know I think he's awful fond o' you--awful.'

'No, Dick, he is not. He hates us--father and I.'

'No fear, he don't. He was at our place Sunday night, lookin' at that
photo of you in our albium. He looked at it more'n he looked at all the
rest put together, an' kep' sneakin' peeps, an' that don't show hate, if
you ask me.'

Dick was half an hour late for school that afternoon, but he never faced
Joel ham with a lighter heart or more careless mien. The master pretended
to be absorbed in a patch on the roof till Dick had almost reached his
seat; then he beckoned the boy, took him on the point of his cane, like a
piece of toast, and backed him against the wall, where he held him
transfixed for a few moments, blinking humorously.

'Ginger, my boy, I regret to have to say it, but you are late again.'

'Never said I wasn't,' said Dick, accepting the inevitable.

'True, Ginger, perfectly true. Any explanation? But let me warn you
anything you may say will be taken down as evidence against you.'

'I was visitin'--visitin' Mr. John Summers up at The House' (Summers'
residence was always 'The Rouse '), 'an'--an' he detained me.'

Joel's face suddenly fell into wrinkles, and his disengaged fingers
clawed his sparse whiskers.

'And you used to be quite a clever liar, Ginger,' he said with