away, but the rest of the boys were boarders, and were no better off
than before.

Miss Scudamore was unshaken in her faith in Mr. Jones and considered
the rumor current about him to be due simply to the vindictive nature
of boys.

"Well, aunt," Tom said one day, after a lecture of this sort from her,
"I know you mean to be kind to us, but Peter and I have stood it on
that account, but we can't stand it much longer, and we shall run away
before long."

"And where would you run to, nephew?" Miss Scudamore said calmly.

"That is our affair," Tom said quite as coolly, "only I don't like to
do it without giving you warning. You mean kindly, I know, aunt, but
the way you are always going on at us from morning to night whenever
we are at home, and the way in which you allow us to be treated by
that tyrannical brute, is too much altogether."

Miss Scudamore looked steadily at them.

"I am doing, nephew, what I consider to be for your good. You are
willful, and violent, and headstrong. It is my duty to cure you, and
although it is all very painful to me, at my time of life, to have
such a charge thrust upon me, still, whatever it costs, it must be
done."

For the next month Mr. Jones' life was rendered a burden to him. The
chimney-pots were shut up with sods placed on them, and the fireplaces