t will be a good while before I come here on a visit."

"Yes. I s'pose it'll make you feel bad. Where are you going?"

"To the City of New York."

"You'll have to live in a small hall bedroom there."

"Why will I?"

"Because you are poor, and it costs a good deal of money to live in New
York. It'll be a great come down."

"It will indeed, but if I can earn enough to support me in plain style
I won't complain. I suppose you'll call and see me when you come to New
York?"

"Perhaps so, if you don't live in a tenement house. Pa objects to my
going to tenement houses. There's no knowing what disease there may be
in them."

"It is well to be prudent," said Rodney, smiling.

It did not trouble him much to think he was not likely to receive a call
from his quondan schoolmate.

"Here is the balance of your money, Ropes," said Dr. Sampson, drawing
a small roll of bills from his pocket, later in the day. "I am quite
willing to give you the odd thirty seven cents."

"Thank you, doctor, but I shan't need it."

"You are poorly provided. Now I would pay you a good sum for some of
your mother's jewelry, as I told you last evening."

"Thank you," said Rodney hastily, "but I don't care to sell at present."

"Let me know when you are ready to dispose of the necklace."

Here the depot carriage appeared in the street outside and Rodney with
his gripsack in one hand and the precious casket in the other, climbed
to a seat beside the driver.

His trunk he left behind, promising to send for it when he had found a
new boarding place.

There was a chorus of good byes. Rodney waved his handkerchief in
general farewell, and the carriage started for the depot.

"Be you goin' for good?" asked Joel, the driver, who knew Rodney well
and felt friendly to him.

"Yes, Joel."

"It's kind of sudden, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"What makes you go?"

"Bad news, Joel."

"Be any of your folks dead?"

"It is not death. I haven't any 'folks.' I'm alone in the world.
It's because I've lost my property and am too poor to remain in school."

"That's too bad," said the driver in a tone of sympathy. "Where are you
goin'?"

"To the city."

"Are you goin' to work?"

"Yes, I shall have to."

"If you was a little older you might get a chance to drive a street car,
but I s'pose you're too young."

"Yes, I don't think they would take me."

"I've thought sometimes I should like such a chance myself," said Joel.
"I've got tired of the coun