st policeman who should
happen along, and having grand games of "I spy" among the maze of
stores and sheds.

Of course, this kind of life could not go on for ever, and there were
times when Terry paused in his eager quest for amusement long enough to
ask himself what he would like to be and to do for a living. The
answers to the question were as various as Terry's moods. He fain
would be a sailor, soldier, fireman, policeman, or coachman, according
as he had been most lately impressed with the advantages and
attractions of that particular occupation. He even sometimes let his
thoughts aspire as high as the position of clerk in the offices of
Drummond and Brown, the owners of Long Wharf. But that was only in
moments of exceptional exaltation, and they soon fell back again to
their wonted level.

This last idea, remote as the possibility of its fulfilment might seem,
had especial vigour imparted into it one morning by a few words that
Miss Kate Drummond, the only daughter of the senior partner, happened
to let fall. She had driven down with her own pony to take her father
home to lunch, and the wharf being such a noisy place, had asked Terry,
who chanced to be lounging near by, wondering if he would ever be the
owner of so fine an equipage, if he would be good enough to hold the
pony's head while she sat in the carriage awaiting her father's coming.

Struck by Terry's prepossessing albeit somewhat dirty countenance, she
thought she might while away the time by asking him some questions
about himself. Terry answered so promptly and politely that she became
quite interested in him, and finally began to sound him as to his plans
for the future.

"Do you know, Terry," said she, with a winning smile that sent a thrill
of pleasure clear down to the tips of the boy's bare toes, "I believe
something good might be made out of you. Your face tells me that
you've got it in you to make your way in the world. Many a rich and
famous man had no better start than you. Wouldn't you like to try as
they did?"

Terry turned away his head to hide the blushes that glowed through the
tan and freckles on his cheeks, and shifted uneasily from one foot to
the other.

"I don't know, mum," said he at last. "I'd like to be a gentleman, and
keep a carriage some day."

Miss Drummond gave a pleasant laugh; the answer was so frankly
characteristic. To be a gentleman and to ride in a carriage seemed to
be the working people's highest