young lady, I make you my apologies." He put his hand out and patted
her shoulder; "Poor bird!" he said. But she shivered away from his
touch, and after a hesitating moment he went shuffling down the path
by himself.

On the way home he sniffled audibly; and when he reached the entrance
to his own place he stopped, tucked his stick under his arm, and blew
his nose with a sonorous sound. As he stuffed his handkerchief back
into his pocket, he saw his grandson lounging against the gate,
evidently waiting for him... The dilapidation of the Wright place was
especially obvious here at the entrance. The white paint on the two
square wooden columns of the gateway had peeled and flaked, and the
columns themselves had rotted at the base into broken fangs, and hung
loosely upon their inner-posts; one of them sagged sidewise from the
weight of the open gate which had long ago settled down into the
burdocks and wild parsley that bordered the weedy driveway. What with
the canaries, and the cooking, and the slovenly housework, poor old
Simmons had no time for such matters as repairing or weeding.

Sam, leaning on the gate, watched his grandfather's toiling progress
up the hill. His face was dull, and when he spoke all the youth seemed
to have dropped out of his voice.

"Grandfather," he said, when Mr. Wright was within speaking distance,
"I want to go away from Old Chester. Will you give me some money,
sir?"

Benjamin Wright, his feet wide apart, and both hands gripping the top
of his stick, came to a panting standstill and gaped at him. He did
not quite take the boy's words in; then, as he grasped the idea that