ut
people generally believed that Spicer had carried no money home,
especially as it was known that he was intoxicated on the night in
question; and that the alleged theft was only a ruse to satisfy
certain importunate creditors.

Everybody knew that Tom was bad enough to steal, even from his father;
from which my readers can understand that it is an excellent thing to
have a good reputation. Bobby knew that he would lie and use profane
language; that he spent his Sundays by the river, or in roaming
through the woods; and that he played truant from school as often as
the fear of the rod would permit; and the boy that would do all these
things certainly would steal if he got a good chance. Our hero's
judgment, therefore, of the case was not favorable to the bully, and
he would have thanked him to stay away from the river while he was
there.

"Hallo, Bob! How are you?" shouted Tom, when he had come within
hailing distance.

"Very well," replied Bobby, rather coolly.

"Been to Boston, they say."

"Yes."

"Well, how did you like it?" continued Tom, as he seated himself on
the rock near our hero.

"First rate."

"Been to work there?"

"No."

"What have you been doing?"

"Travelling about."

"What doing?"

"Selling books."

"Was you, though? Did you sell any?"

"Yes, a few."

"How many?"

"O, about fifty."

"You didn't, though--did you? How much did you make?"

"About fifteen dollars."

"By jolly! You are a smart one, Bobby. There are not many fellows
that would have done that."

"Easy enough," replied Bobby, who was not a little surprised at this
warm commendation from one whom he regarded as his enemy.

"You had to buy the books first--didn't you?" asked Tom, who began to
manifest a deep interest in the trade.

"Of course; no one will give you the books."

"What do you pay for them?"

"I buy them so as to make a profit on them," answered Bobby, who, like
a discreet merchant, was not disposed to be too communicative.

"That business would suit me first rate."

"It is pretty hard work."

"I don't care for that. Don't you believe I could do something in this
line?"

"I don't know; perhaps you could."

"Why not, as well as you?"

This was a hard question; and, as Bobby did not wish to be uncivil, he
talked about a big pout he hauled in at that moment, instead of
answering it. He was politic, and deprecated the anger of the bully;
so, though Tom plied him pretty hard, he did not re