some time before I am so fortunate.
Roscoe, I don't know what to do when I leave the school. I shall barely
have five dollars, and you know I have not only myself, but another to
support."

"Keep up your courage, Mr. Crabb! It is nearly time for me to hear from
the friend in New York to whom I wrote is your behalf. If you can secure
the position of his private tutor--"

"If I can, I will hail it as providential. It will relieve me at once
from all anxiety."

"I don't think I shall long remain here myself, Mr. Crabb," said
Hector. "I came here with the full intention of making the most of the
facilities the institute affords for education, but I find the principal
incompetent, and disposed to connive at injustice and brutality. The
only good I have got here has been derived from your instructions."

"Thank you, Roscoe. Such a tribute is, indeed, welcome," said the usher,
warmly.

"It is quite sincere, Mr. Crabb, and I hope my good wishes may bring you
the advantage which I have in view."

"Thank you, Roscoe. I don't blame you for being disgusted with the
management of the school. You have yourself suffered injustice."

"Yes; in writing home, and charging me with theft, before he had
investigated the circumstances, Mr. Smith did me a great injustice. I
doubt whether he has since written to correct the false charge, as
I required him to do. If not, I shall owe it to myself to leave the
school."

"You will be justified in doing so." The next day brought Hector two
letters. One was from Allan Roscoe, and read as follows:

"HECTOR: I have received from your worthy teacher a letter which has
filled me with grief and displeasure. I knew you had great faults, but
I did not dream that you would stoop so low as to purloin money, as it
seems you have done. Mr. Smith writes me that there is no room to doubt
your guilt. He himself discovered in the pocket of your pantaloons a
wallet containing a large sum of money, which he had missed only a short
time before. He learned that you had entered his chamber, and taken the
money, being tempted by your own dishonest and depraved heart.

"I cannot express the shame I feel at this revelation of baseness. I
am truly glad that you are not connected with me by blood. Yet I cannot
forget that my poor brother treated you as a son; and took pains to
train you up in right ideas. It would give him deep pain could he know
how the boy whom he so heaped with benefits has turned out! I may