stride forward Scranton had taken in the way of catering to her rising
population.

Of course, there were those in the town---you can always find a few in
every community---who seriously objected to so much "good money being
wasted," as they termed it, on such trivial things, when Scranton
really needed an up-to-date library building in place of the poor
apology for one that had to serve.

These people, doubtless from worthy motives, though they were
short-sighted in their opposition, lost no opportunity for running down
the entire enterprise. The person who, perhaps, had more influence
than any of the others, and was more vehement in deriding the "foolish
expenditure of funds along such silly lines, instead of trying to
elevate the standard of reading among Scranton's young people," was
the rich widow, Mrs. Jardine.

She had a son named Claude, whose life was rendered miserable by the
lofty ambition of his mother to make him a genius. She never ceased
talking upon all sorts of elevating subjects; and where other boys
were allowed to lead normal lives, and have lots of innocent if
strenuous fun during vacations, and holidays, poor Claude led a life
of bondage.

He was rather an effeminate-looking boy, tall and slender, with a
face entirely destitute of color such as would indicate abounding
spirits and good health; but it was no wonder, everyone knew how he
was being made such a "sissy" of by his doting "mamma." despite all
this there seemed to be a spark of ordinary boyish spirits concealed
under Claude's superior airs. He sometimes stood and watched the