f he's anything like his father, he is an impertinent
jackanapes."

John pricked up his ears, and listened attentively.

"He grossly insulted me at the town meeting to-day, and I sha'n't soon
forget it. It isn't for his interest to insult a man who has the power
to annoy him that I possess."

"Haven't you got a mortgage on his farm?"

"Yes, and at a proper time I shall remind him of it. But to come back to
your own affairs. What was the prize given to young Frost?"

"A blue-and-gold copy of Whittier's Poems, in two volumes."

"Plain binding, I suppose."

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. The next time I go to Boston, I will buy you the same thing
bound in calf. I don't intend that you shall suffer by your teacher's
injustice."

"It wasn't so much the prize that I cared for," said John, who felt
like making the most of his father's favorable mood, "but you know you
promised me twenty-five dollars if I gained it."

"And as you have been defrauded of it, I will give you thirty instead,"
said the squire promptly.

John's eyes sparkled with delight. "Oh, thank you, sir!" he said. "I
wouldn't change places with Frank Frost now for all his prize."

"I should think not, indeed," said the squire pompously. "Your position
as the son of a poor farmer wouldn't be quite so high as it is now."

As he spoke he glanced complacently at the handsome furniture which
surrounded him, the choice engravings which hung on the walls, and the
full-length mirror in which his figure was reflected. "Ten years from
now Frank Frost will be only a common laborer on his father's farm--that
is," he added significantly, "if his father manages to keep it; while
you, I hope, will be winning distinction at the bar."

Father and son were in a congenial mood that evening, and a common
hatred drew them more closely together than mutual affection had ever
done. They were very much alike--both cold, calculating, and selfish.
The squire was indeed ambitious for his son, but could hardly be said
to love him, since he was incapable of feeling a hearty love for any one
except himself.

As for John, it is to be feared that he regarded his father chiefly as
one from whom he might expect future favors. His mother had been a good,
though not a strong-minded woman, and her influence might have been of
advantage to her son; but unhappily she had died when John was in his
tenth year, and since then he had become too much like his father.

CHAPTER III. FRANK