ll my life to please
grandfather or any one else."

When he mentioned his determination to win literary glory she was always
greatly interested. Dreams of histrionic achievement were more coldly
received. The daughter of a New England country clergyman, even in these
days of broadening horizons, could scarcely be expected to look with
favor upon an actor's career.

June came and with it the first of the summer visitors. For the next
three months Albert was happy with a new set of acquaintances. They were
HIS kind, these young folks from the city, and his spare moments were
for the most part spent in their society. He was popular with them, too.
Some of them thought it queer that he should be living all the year in
the village and keeping books for a concern like Z. Snow and Co., but
juvenile society is tolerant and a youth who could sing passably, dance
wonderfully and, above all, was as beautifully picturesque as Albert
Speranza, was welcomed, especially by the girls. So the Saturdays and
Sundays and evenings of that summer were pleasant for him. He saw little
of Helen or Gertie Kendrick while the hotel or the cottages remained
open.

Then came the fall and another long, dreary winter. Albert plodded on at
his desk or in the yard, following Mr. Keeler's suggestions, obeying his
grandfather's orders, tormenting Issy, doing his daily stint because he
had to, not because he liked it. For amusement he read a good deal, went
to the usual number of sociables and entertainments, and once took part
in amateur theatricals, a play given by the church society in the
town hall. There was where he shone. As the dashing young hero he was
resplendent. Gertie Kendrick gazed upon him from the third settee
center with shining eyes. When he returned home after it was over his
grandmother and Mrs. Ellis overwhelmed him with praises.

"I declare you was perfectly splendid, Albert!" exclaimed Olive. "I was
so proud of you I didn't know what to do."

Rachel looked upon him as one might look upon a god from Olympus.

"All I could think of was Robert Penfold," she said. "I says so to
Laban: 'Laban,' says I, ain't he Robert Penfold and nobody else?' There
you was, tellin' that Hannibal Ellis that you was innocent and some day
the world would know you was, just the way Robert Penfold done in the
book. I never did like that Hannie Ellis!"

Mrs. Snow smiled. "Mercy, Rachel," she said, "I hope you're not blamin'
Hannie because of what he di