Making His Mark. Alger Horatio Jr.

a moment. Then he said:

      "I hope Abel and I will be friends."

      "It will be wise for you to treat him well," said his stepmother.

      "When do you expect him here?"

      "Some time this afternoon."

      "Have you any more to say to me?"

      "Not at present."

      Gerald rose slowly and left the house. He felt crushed and humiliated. He felt that his stepmother had the upper hand. He remembered well the day, only two years before, when Mrs. Ruth Tyler entered their home as his father's wife. She had come to Portville and opened a milliner's shop on a very small scale. She attended the same church as his father, and in a short time managed to make his acquaintance. She consulted him on business matters, and exerted herself to please him. Finally, marriage followed. During his father's life Gerald had no fault to find with her treatment of him, but since the funeral she had thrown off the mask. Gerald could only think of her as one who had defrauded him of his rightful inheritance.

      CHAPTER II

      MR. TUBBS, THE GROCER

      Gerald was so disturbed by the communication which his stepmother had made that he walked at random, hardly knowing in what direction he was going. Before he was well aware of it, he found himself passing the grocery store in which, according to Mrs. Lane's plans, he was to find employment. Raising his eyes he saw Mr. Tubbs standing in the doorway.

      The grocer was a short, stout man, not over five feet four inches in height and weighing well on to two hundred pounds. His features relaxed into a smile as he recognized Gerald.

      "Come here, Gerald," he said.

      Gerald paused, and as he looked into the grocery store with its sanded floor, barrels of flour, and boxes of potatoes, with the dried codfish hanging against the wall, his heart sank within him. He was not afraid of work, but to work in such a place and with such surroundings seemed to him dismal indeed.

      "Then you are coming to work for me?" said Mr. Tubbs smiling broadly. "Hasn't your mother told you?"

      "My stepmother mentioned it this morning," said Gerald, gravely.

      "We made the bargain last week. You'll get good pay, too. Three dollars a week. I never paid so much before, but I expect you will earn it. You look like a good, strong boy."

      "Yes, I am strong," said Gerald, briefly.

      "And you are willing to work, I suppose?"

      "I don't know, Mr. Tubbs. Mrs. Lane had no right to make a bargain for me. My father always intended that I should go to college."

      "That would cost a sight of money, Gerald. Here you would learn business. In a few years you may be earning ten dollars a week."

      He spoke as if this were a very large sum.

      "I am not afraid to work, Mr. Tubbs, but I don't think I shall like the grocery business."

      "Pooh, pooh! a boy like you doesn't know what he would like. How old are you?"

      "Sixteen."

      "Sixteen? Why, at sixteen I could lift a barrel of flour. I worked well, if I do say it myself. I only got two dollars a week in this very store, and now it's my own."

      He looked around him with an air of pride. His highest ambition was realized in the possession of a grocery store.

      "What do you say to that?"

      "You have done well, Mr. Tubbs."

      "Haven't I? And you can do as well. Why, in five years if your mother will advance a little money, I may give you an interest in the business."

      Gerald did not reply. His heart was sore, and he felt that life had few attractions for him if it was to be passed here.

      "Are you going to school now?"

      "I have been."

      "Your mother told me you might come here a week from Monday, but I'd like to have you come a week earlier, if you can as well as not."

      "No, I will wait," said Gerald, hastily.

      "Well, just as you like, but if you'll come in evenings so as to get a little used to the work, I'll give you—say, seventy-five cents for a week."

      "I think you will have to excuse me, Mr. Tubbs."

      "Oh, well, I won't insist upon it," said the grocer, half dissatisfied.

      It was Saturday, the weekly school holiday. To-day, at least, Gerald was free. He decided to walk to Crescent Pond and go out in his boat. He had a small dory there, which his father had given him on his last birthday. On the way he passed a small cottage belonging to his father's estate. It was tenanted by a widow named Holman. Her son, John, had been one of his schoolmates but was now employed in a shoe shop.

      John was sitting on a wheelbarrow in the yard.

      "Come and have a row, John," said Gerald, "that is, if you are not working to-day."

      "No, the shop is shut down for a fortnight," said John, soberly. "It is likely to be a bad job for us."

      "How is that?"

      "Our rent was due yesterday, and we can't pay it."

      "But this is one of father's houses."

      "Yes; if your father was alive there would be no trouble."

      "Have you had any notice to pay?" asked Gerald, quickly.

      "Your stepmother says that if the rent is not paid on Monday we must turn out."

      "Surely she would not be so inhuman."

      "That is exactly what she said when mother went to the house yesterday afternoon. My being out of work made no difference to her. I wish the house was yours, Gerald."

      "Nothing seems to be mine, John," said Gerald, gravely. "Mrs. Lane told me this morning that I must leave school and go to work."

      "What a shame! How could your father leave you in the power of such a woman?"

      "I can't tell, John. That is what puzzles me. But how much is the rent?"

      "Six dollars."

      "Have you got anything toward it?"

      "No. What money we have must go toward food."

      "Then I'll tell you what I'll do. I have some money in the savings bank. I'll go and draw out six dollars and lend it to you, but you mustn't let Mrs. Lane know where it came from."

      "You are awfully kind, Gerald; but I don't think we ought to accept your offer."

      "Why not? The money is mine."

      "Your stepmother might object."

      "I don't think she knows that I have any money in the bank; besides, it has always been mine to do what I pleased with. Father never interfered with it at any time."

      "Still, as you have no money left to you, you may need it."

      Gerald admitted to himself that this might very probably be true, but he felt that Mrs. Holman needed the money more than he did.

      "We won't worry about the future," he said. "At present you need the money and I don't."

      "I am afraid I shall have to accept the money for mother's sake."

      "That is right, John; come with me and I'll get it out."

      The savings bank was a small building on the main street. It was scarcely a quarter of a mile distant, and the two boys were soon inside. Gerald made out a check at a small table near the door and presented it to the paying teller. Gerald was a favorite with the bank officer, who said to him jocosely:

      "What are you drawing this money for? Are you going to get married?"

      "Not just yet, Mr. Barton, I am afraid my account isn't large enough for that."

      "It wouldn't last long, I am afraid, if you wanted it for that purpose. How will you have it?"

      "It doesn't matter. A five and a one will do."

      "Here it is."

      Gerald