then,
he had been abominably treated. He could not go to college now, for he
would never accept it from Hessie, who had been willing to believe he
took the money. He lashed himself into a fury again as he thought of it.
He was utterly unreasonable, but of course he was quite unconscious of
being so.

Finally the better thoughts came uppermost again, and he decided what to
do. He would go to Philadelphia and ask his guardian to put him in the
way of getting some work. He would tell him the whole story.
Fortunately, he did not remember that Cynthia had said her father went
to Philadelphia; if he had he would not have gone, thinking that his
guardian would have been prejudiced against him by his brother-in-law.

He packed his valise and started that night, though his friends urged
him to stay longer. He felt a feverish impatience to be off and have
things settled. With it was a feeling of excitement; he was going to
seek his fortune. Thrown upon a cold world by the unkind and unjust
suspicions of his nearest relatives, he would rise above adverse
circumstances and "ennoble fate by nobly bearing it!"

It was a very heroic martyr that bought a ticket for Philadelphia that
night.

He did not engage a berth in the sleeping-car; he was a poor man now and
must begin to economize. Besides, upon counting his money he found that
he had but just enough with which to reach his destination.

He was very tired with the adventures of the last two days, and the
night before, spent in a shed, had not been comfortable, so he slept
well, notwithstanding the fact that he was not in a Pullman sleeper. He
did not wake until it was broad daylight, and the train was speeding
along through New Jersey. The storm was over, the sun was shining down
upon a bright and rain-washed world, and Neal Gordon was entering upon a
new life.

"So this is the 'Quaker City,'" he thought, as the train glided over the
bridges and into the huge station. "I wonder if every one is in a
broad-brimmed hat! And now to find cousin William Carpenter. He's a
Quaker of the Quakers, I suppose; I can never get into the habit of
saying 'thee' and 'thou.'"

He did not see much of the Quaker element in the busy station, nor when
he went down stairs and out on to Broad Street. He was on the point of
jumping into a hansom to be driven to his cousin's house, when he
remembered that he had not a cent in his pocket with which to pay for
it. It was a novel experience for Neal.