hen Mr. Polk said he would leave that day instead of
staying several days, as he had intended, Steve could make no reply.

Before Mr. Polk left, however, in giving final instructions to his
charge, the old kindly manner returned, and as he said, "I hope you
will like it here, son," the boy replied with his old freedom:

"I knows I'm a-goin' to like it, and that thar Miss Grace Trowbridge
is the nicest one of 'em all. She used ter live in New York City, the
president said, whar you used ter live. Didn't you nuver know her
thar?" he asked innocently, not yet comprehending in the least city
conditions.

Mr. Polk set his lips grimly and answered sternly: "Yes," as he
mounted a mule to ride back the forty miles to the nearest railroad
station.

What was the matter again? The boy did not know, and he felt as
though a sudden chill had come upon him. But a moment later Mr. Polk
looked down at him kindly, reached over, pressed his hand, and said:
"Be a good boy," as he rode away on the ambling mule.

So Steve began his school life. He went into the second reader class,
his opportunities at the Follets' having put him beyond the beginners.
In his class were children of all ages and mature men and women, who
were just getting their first opportunity to learn. Steve was bright
and quick, had a good mind, and made rapid progress.

With the superior social advantages which he had found along the way
from Hollow Hut to the school, the boy became a great ally of the
teachers in the battle for nightgowns, combs, and brushes for the hair
and teeth, also for white shirts, collars and neckties on Sunday,
which most of the boys thought "plum foolishness anyways."

"Here, fellows," Steve would say when he found them turning in at
night with soiled feet, coats and trousers, "this ain't the way ter
git ter be president." He organized a company of "regulators" in the
boys' dormitory, and when any fellows turned in with soiled feet,
coats and trousers, Steve's shrill whistle summoned the army and a
lively pillow fight ensued which was hard on the pillows but always
brought victory for nightgowns. And when a boy refused to brush his
hair in the morning the regulators invariably caught him, and the
penalty was a thorough brushing down of his rebellious locks by at
least twenty-five sturdy young arms. Under such methods the cause of
nightgowns and brushes was made to thrive.

There was another cause which was more difficult, but which enli