opened a small millinery store in Chicago, and
is doing fairly well. But Jonas is her chief trouble, as he is lazy and
addicted to intemperate habits. His chances of success and an honorable
career are small.

"How can I spare you, Philip?" said Mr. Carter regretfully. "I know your
father has the best right to you, but I don't like to give you up."

"You need not," said Mr. Granville. "I propose to remove to New York;
but in the summer I shall come to my estate near Chicago, and hope,
since the house is large enough, that I may persuade you and your niece,
Mrs. Forbush, to be my guests."

This arrangement was carried out. Mrs. Forbush and her daughter are
the recognized heirs of Mr. Carter, who is wholly estranged from the
Pitkins. He ascertained, through a detective, that the attack upon
Philip by the man who stole from him the roll of bills was privately
instigated by Mr. Pitkin himself, in the hope of getting Philip into
trouble. Mr. Carter, thereupon, withdrew his capital from the firm, and
Mr. Pitkin is generally supposed to be on the verge of bankruptcy.
At any rate, his credit is very poor, and there is a chance that the
Pitkins may be reduced to comparative poverty.

"I won't let Lavinia suffer," said Uncle Oliver; "if the worst comes to
the worst, I will settle a small income, say twelve hundred dollars, on
her, but we can never be friends."

As Phil grew older--he is now twenty-one--it seems probable that he
and Mr. Carter may be more closely connected, judging from his gallant
attentions to Julia Forbush, who has developed into a charming young
lady. Nothing would suit Mr. Carter better, for there is no one who
stands higher in his regard than Philip Granville, the Errand Boy.

FRED SARGENT'S REVENGE.

Fred Sargent, upon this day from which my story dates, went to the head
of his Latin class, in the high school of Andrewsville. The school was
a fine one, the teachers strict, the classes large, the boys generally
gentlemanly, and the moral tone pervading the whole, of the very best
character.

To lead a class in a school like this was an honor of which any boy
might have been proud; and Fred, when he heard his name read off at
the head of the roll, could have thrown up his well-worn Latin grammar,
which he happened to have in his hand just at that moment, and hurrahed.
It was quite a wonder to him afterward that he did not.

As a class, boys are supposed to be generous. I really don't know
wh