gwood, whose chimneys and gables were distinctly visible in the winter when the trees were stripped of their foliage. At the time when Mrs. Crawfo

outwardly, but for the luxurious woodbine, which she had trained with so much care and skill that it covered nearly

ay when, three years after her marriage, Amy Hastings came home to die, bringing with her a little two-year-old boy, whom, she called Harold, for his father. Just where the father was, if indeed he were living, she d

man of my tastes-too many temptations for a fellow like me. When I come back we will go into the country, where you can ha

fox hunts. Weeks went by and he never wrote nor came, and Amy would have been utterly destitute and friendless but for Arthur Tracy, who, when her need was greatest, went to her, telling her that he had never been far from

meantime I shall see that you do not suffer. As an old friend of y

care, and tried to seem cheerful and brave whi

in. But not for long. Poor Amy's heart was broken. She loved her husband devotedly, and his cruel desertion of her-for she knew now it was that-hurt her more than years of suffering with hi

and read that Harold Hastings was dead: that Amy was free, and that Arthur Tracy, who through all had loved her just as well as when he first as

you and a father to your child, who shall share my fortune as if he were my own. Answer at

and that day they buried her under the November snow, which was falling in great sheets upon the frozen ground. What Arthur felt when he heard the news no one eve

M

ed

h the little boy, the child Harold, who had inherited his mother's beauty, with all her lovely traits of character. Had Mrs. Crawford consented, Arthur would have supported him entirely;

s from the garden attached to the cottage. But whatever she did, she was always the same quiet, lady-like woman, who commanded the respect of all, and who, poor as she was, was held in high esteem by the better class in Shannondale. Grace Atherton's carriag

he had never felt the effects of their poverty, save when Tom Tracy had jeered at him for it, and called him a pauper. There had been one square fight between the two boys, in which Harold had been the victor, with only a torn jacket, while Tom's eye had been black for a week, and Mrs. Tracy had gone to the

rs. Crawford knew, but he was still too young for anything of that kind; and when Grace Atherton, or Mrs. St. Claire offered him money for the errands he sometimes did for them, she steadily refused to let him take it. Had she known of Mrs. Tracy's proposition that he should be present at the party as hall-boy, she would have declined, for though she could go there herself as an

he was thinking to herself as she sat in her bright, cheerful ki

, and I told her I'd go, and I am to be there at ha

u mean? Only grown up people are

t to be with the grown-ups. I'm to stay in

rawford's rather contemptuous remark, wh

ver it, and oranges and grapes, and, oh, everything! Dick St. Claire told me; he knows; his mother has had parties, and she's going to-night, and her gown is crimson velvet, with black and white fur in it l

d hardly follow him, but she understood what he sai

to-night!' she exclaimed. '

ted to stop the party,' Harold said, repeating as nearl

en in the afternoon Dick St. Claire came to the cottage to play with him, he

aid, 'I know how they do it. You mustn't talk to the people

se walk this way,

arold, who, when the drill was over, felt himself competent to receive

nd gentlemen that;" but when am I to go down

rs ever went down to see the dancing, or to get ice cream, until the par

en used in connection with what he was expected to do. But Harold was too young to understand that he was not of the party itself. Later on it would come to him fast enough, that he was only a pa

and what they say, and what they wear, and if I can, I'll spe

dly, and occasionally saying aloud with a gesture of his han

way,' and 'ge

ust been turned up, and every window was abl

ays Mr. Arthur Tracy was once a poor boy like me; only he had an uncle and I haven't. I've got do earn my money, and I mean to, and sometimes, maybe, I'll have a house us big as this, and just such a

rs. Tracy, who had not yet left her room, start

Those whom you care for

at the top of his voice, 'It ain't old Peterkin, mother; it's Hall Hastings, come to the front door,'

ngin' the bell as if you was a gentleman. Go

to shut the door upon him when, with a quick, dextrous movemen

ack kitchen door, and I'm not a servant,

doubtful, if Mrs. Tracy had not c

minute! And you, boy, go to the kitchen; or, no-now you are

all respects a machine. Just what she meant by that Harold did not know; but he hung his cap on a bracket, and taking his place where she told him to stand, watched h

ere in the dining-room and pantry, and that his Uncle Arthur was coming home that night, and his mother was so glad, she cried; then, with a spring he mounted upo

mptation became too strong to be resisted, two boys instead of one rode down the banister and landed in the lower