riend gave it to me."

"Who do you mean--Mr. Graham?" she asked archly.

"He would be more likely to relieve me of it. No, it is Mr. Waterbury."

"I am going to kiss you for that, Mr. Waterbury," said Jennie
impulsively; and she suited the action to the word.

"What will Mr. Waterbury think, Jennie?" said her mother.

"He thinks himself well repaid for his gift," answered that gentleman,
smiling; "and half inclined to give Tom another watch."

"Isn't it my turn, now?" asked Tom, with a courage at which he afterward
rather wondered; but he was fast getting rid of his country bashfulness.

"I never kiss boys," said Jennie demurely.

"Then I will grow into a man as fast as I can," said Tom, "and give
somebody a watch, and then---- But that will be a good while to wait."

"I may kiss you good-by," said Jennie, "if I feel like it."

She did feel like it, and Tom received the kiss.

"It strikes me, Tom," said Mr. Waterbury, as they were walking home,
"that you and Jennie are getting along fast."

"She kissed you first," said Tom, blushing.

"But the kiss she gave me was wholly on your account."

"She seems just like a sister," said Tom. "She's a tip-top girl."

CHAPTER XIX.

A MISSOURI TAVERN.

The next day Tom started on his way. His new companion, Donald Ferguson,
was a sedate Scotchman, and a thoroughly reliable man. He was possessed
to the full of the frugality characteristic of the race to which he
belonged, and, being more accustomed to traveling than Tom, saved our
hero something in the matter of expense. He was always ready to talk of
Scotland, which he evidently thought the finest country in the world. He
admitted that Glasgow was not as large a city as London, but that it was
more attractive. As for New York, that city bore no comparison to the
chief city of Scotland.

"You must go to Scotland some time, Tom," he said. "If you can't visit
but one country in the Old World, go to Scotland."

Privately Tom was of opinion that he should prefer to visit England; but
he did not venture to hurt the feelings of his fellow-traveler by saying
so.

"I wonder, Mr. Ferguson," he could not help saying one day, "that you
should have been willing to leave Scotland, since you so much prefer it
to America."

"I'll tell you, my lad," answered the Scotchman. "I would rather live in
Scotland than anywhere else on God's footstool; but I won't be denying
that it is a poor place for a man to make money, if