entally decided that such a
man was unfit for the responsible position he held.

CHAPTER XXXV

DICK HAMLIN

Mr. Hamlin stopped his horse a quarter of a mile from the village in
front of a plain farmhouse.

An intelligent-looking boy, of perhaps fifteen, coarsely but neatly
dressed, approached and greeted his father, not without a glance of
surprise and curiosity at Frank.

"You may unharness the horses, Dick," said Mr. Hamlin. "When you come
back, I will introduce you to a boy friend who will stay with us a
while."

Dick obeyed, and Frank followed his host into the house.

Here he was introduced to Mrs. Hamlin, a motherly-looking woman, and
Annie and Grace, younger sisters of Dick.

"I am glad to see you," said Mrs. Hamlin, to our hero, after a brief
explanation from her husband. "We will try to make you comfortable."

"Thank you!" said Frank. "I am sure I shall feel at home."

The house was better furnished than might have been anticipated. When
Mr. Hamlin left Chicago, he had some money saved up, and he furnished
his house in a comfortable manner.

It was not, however, the furniture that attracted Frank's attention so
much as the books, papers and pictures that gave the rooms a homelike
appearance.

"I shall be much better off here than I would have been at the tavern,"
he thought. "This seems like home."

"I see," said Mr. Hamlin, "that you are surprised to see so many books
and pictures. I admit that my house does not look like the house of a
poor man, who has to struggle for the mere necessaries of life. But
books and periodicals we have always classed among the necessities, and
I am sure we would all rather limit ourselves to dry bread for two out
of the three meals than to give up this food for the mind."

"I think you are a very sensible man, Mr. Hamlin," said Frank. "I
couldn't get along without something to read."

"Not in this out-of-the-way place, at any rate," said Mr. Hamlin.
"Nothing can be more dismal than the homes of some of my neighbors, who
spend as much, or more, than I do every year. Yet, they consider me
extravagant because I buy books and subscribe for periodicals."

By this time, Dick came in from the barn.

"Dick," said his father, "this is Frank Courtney, who comes from Chicago
on a business errand. He is a traveling merchant--"

"In other words, a peddler," said Frank, with a smile, "ready to give
the good people in Jackson a chance to buy stationery at reasonab