pensioners, whom he would not desert in their infirmity, he
remembered, and the great man's love for his trees gave him reason,
with a sudden leap of faith, to believe in his kindness towards him.
"I'm better than an old tree," reasoned Jerome, and raised the
knocker again boldly and let it fall with a great brazen clang. Then
he jumped and almost fell backward when the door was flung open
suddenly, and there stood Squire Merritt himself.

"What the devil--" began Squire Merritt; then he stopped and chuckled
behind his great beard when he saw Jerome's alarmed eyes. "Hullo,"
said he, "who have we got here?" Eben Merritt had a soft place in
his heart for all small young creatures of his kind, and always
returned their timid obeisances, when he met them, with a friendly
smile twinkling like light through his bushy beard. Still, like many
a man of such general kindly bearings, he could not easily compass
details, and oftener than not could not have told which child he
greeted.

Eben Merritt, outside his own family, was utterly impartial in
magnanimity, and dealt with broad principles rather than individuals.
Now he looked hard at Jerome, and could not for the life of him tell
what particular boy he was, yet recognized him fully in the broader
sense of young helplessness and timid need. "Speak up," said he;
"don't be scared. I know all the children, and I don't know one of
'em. Speak up like a man."

Then Jerome, stung to the resolution to show this great Squire, Eben
Merritt, that he was not to be classed among the children, but was a
man indeed, and equivalent to those duties of one which had suddenly
been thrust upon him, looked his questioner boldly in the face and