st not to be too sure I'm
going to get those silver-plated skates after all, though Mom is
looking pretty mysterious these days; and some sort of package came
to her by express from New York the other day. She hurried it away
before I could even see the name printed on the wrapper."

"Perhaps," said Thad a bit wistfully, "you might bequeath me your old
skates in case you do get new ones. Mine are not half as good for
hockey. I don't blame Nick for envying you their possession; but
then it hasn't been so much what you had on your feet that has made
you the swift hockey player you are, but coolness of judgment,
ability to anticipate the moves of the enemy, and a clever stroke
that can send the puck skimming over the ice like fury."

"Here, that'll do for you, Thad. No bouquets needed, thank you, all
the same. According to my notion there are several fellows in
Scranton my equals at hockey, and perhaps my superiors. Nick Lang,
for instance, if only he had skates he could depend on, and which
wouldn't threaten to trip him up in the midst of an exciting
scrimmage."

"But, see here, Hugh, you were speaking just now about a chap built
like Nick turning over a new leaf, and making himself respected in
the community in spite of the bad name he's always had. Honestly
now, do you really believe that's possible? Is there such a thing as
the regeneration of a boy who's been born bad, and always taken
delight in doing every sort of mean thing on the calendar? I can't
believe it."

Hugh Morgan turned and gave his chum a serious look.

"I've got a good mind to tell you something that's been on my mind
lately," he said.

CHAPTER II

A BULL IN THE CHINA SHOP

On hearing his chum say that, Thad gripped Hugh's arm.

"Then get busy, Hugh," he hastened to remark. "When you start
cogitating over things there's always something interesting on foot.
What is it this time?"

"Oh! just a little speculation I've been indulging in, Thad, and on
the very subject we were talking about--whether a really bad man, or
boy, for that matter, can ever turn right-about-face, and redeem
himself. You say it's impossible; I think otherwise."

"Tell me a single instance, then, Hugh."

"Just what I'm meaning to do," came the ready response, "but it's in
romance, not history; though there are just as strong instances that
can be proven. I've heard my father mention some of them long ago.
But it happens, Thad, that I've been reading o