The lad whom he called Maurice was better dressed, and he seemed
to carry with him a certain air of refinement that was lacking in
his friend, who was of a rougher nature. Despite this difference
he and Thad Tucker were the closest of chums, sharing each other's
joys and disappointments, small though they might be.

They had met just now at the post-office of a little country town
not many miles below Evansville, Indiana, as the afternoon mail
was being sorted.

The yellow flood of the great Ohio River could be seen from where
they stood, glowing in the early November sunshine.

Upon being greeted with these words Maurice Pemberton shook his
head dolefully.

"It's come, just as I've been half expecting it these four months,
Thad. The old couple I live with have sold their house and leave
for Chicago in a week. That turns me out into the Streets, for you
know they've given me a home ever since mother, who was a friend
of Mrs. Jasper, died; and in return I've tried to make good by
doing all their gardening and other work between school hours. Now
a son has sent for them to come and make their home with him.
Pretty tough on a fellow not to know where he's going to sleep
after a single week."

But Thad was smiling now, as though an idea had flashed into his
head that gave him reason for something akin to pleasure.

"Well, I don't know; if it comes to the worst, Pard Maurice,