ll the
machination of Duval would have been without effect.

The question now, however, was, to raise the money. He knew of no one
to whom he could apply except his father, nor did he have much hope from
that quarter. Still, he would make the effort.

Reaching home he found his father seated in the library. He looked up
from the evening paper as George entered.

"Only half-past nine," he said, with an air of sarcasm. "You spend your
evenings out so systematically that your early return surprises me. How
is it? Has the theater begun to lose its charm!"

There was no great sympathy between father and son, and if either felt
affection for the other, it was never manifested. Mutual recrimination
was the rule between them, and George would now have made an angry
answer but that he had a favor to ask, and felt it politic to be
conciliatory.

"If I had supposed you cared for my society, sir, I would have remained
at home oftener."

"Umph!" was the only reply elicited from his father.

"However, there was a good reason for my not going to the theater
to-night."

"Indeed!"

"I had no money."

"Your explanation is quite satisfactory," said his father, with a slight
sneer. "I sympathize in your disappointment."

"There is no occasion, sir," said George, good humoredly, for him. "I
had no great desire to go."

Dawkins took down a book from the library and tried to read, but
without much success. His thoughts continually recurred to his pecuniary
embarrassments, and the debt which he owed to Duval seemed to hang like
a millstone around his neck. How should he approach his father on the
subject? In his present humor he feared he would have little chance.

As his father laid down the newspaper Dawkins said, "Wouldn't you like a
game of checkers, sir?"

This, as he well knew, was a favorite game with his father.

"I don't know but I should," said Mr. Dawkins, more graciously than was
his wont.

The checker-board was brought, and the two commenced playing. Three
games were played all of which his father won. This appeared to put
him in a good humor, for as the two ceased playing, he drew a
ten-dollar-bill from his pocket-book, and handed to his son, with the
remark, "There, George, I don't want you to be penniless. You are a
little extravagant, though, I think. Your pay from Mr. Danforth ought to
keep you in spending money."

"Yes, sir, I have been rather extravagant, but I am going to reform."

"I am very glad