of the Almighty in her daily and nightly prayers. Meanwhile the
noise at the supper table grew louder and more incessant, and
sundry deep potations of home-brewed ale began to do their work.
One man, seated near Ned Landon, was holding forth in very slow
thick accents on the subject of education:

"Be eddicated!" he said, articulating his words with difficulty,--
"That's what I says, boys! Be eddicated! Then everything's right
for us! We can kick all the rich out into the mud and take their
goods and enjoy 'em for ourselves. Eddication does it! Makes us
all we wants to be,--members o' Parli'ment and what not! I've only
one boy,--but he'll be eddicated as his father never was--"

"And learn to despise his father!" said Robin, suddenly, his clear
voice ringing out above the other's husky loquacity. "You're
right! That's the best way to train a boy in the way he should
go!"

There was a brief silence. Then came a fresh murmur of voices and
Ned Landon's voice rose above them.

"I don't agree with you, Mr. Clifford," he said--"There's no
reason why a well-educated lad should despise his father."

"But he often does," said Robin--"reason or no reason."

"Well, you're educated yourself," retorted Landon, with a touch of
envy,--"You won a scholarship at your grammar school, and you've
been to a University."