without a home, he would go out into the Common
or the Public Garden and sit for hours on
some bench--thinking.

All this could have but one ending, of course.
Before the middle of August William summoned
Pete to his rooms.

``Oh, Pete, I'm going to move next week,''
he began nonchalantly. His voice sounded as if
moving were a pleasurable circumstance that
occurred in his life regularly once a month. ``I'd
like you to begin to pack up these things, please,
to-morrow.''

The old servant's mouth fell open.

``You're goin' to--to what, sir?'' he stammered.

``Move--_move_, I said.'' William spoke with
unusual harshness.

Pete wet his lips.

``You mean you've sold the old place, sir?--
that we--we ain't goin' to live here no longer?''

``Sold? Of course not! _I'm_ going to move
away; not you.''