ered why going to seek his fortune
appeared so much more terrible to them.

"Well, why not, Jack?" with impetuous eagerness. "It isn't too late."

"I don't want the years of study. I should come to hate the sight of a
book. No, I'll find out where I belong, some day. Don't worry about me,"
with an abrupt laugh.

"But I am so sorry!" Then they looked into each other's eyes. All these
years had been filled with such good, honest boy-love.

"Good-by, old chap!" cried Jack suddenly; for the wrench must come, and
lingering over it was painful. "I shall miss you lots! it seems so queer
to be without you! Of course you'll succeed: there's no use wishing
about that."

"It's a good wish from you, Jack. Good-by. I hate awfully to say it: I
hate to think that our jolly boyish frolics are over."

"But we'll have many a good row on the river, and tramps through the
woods. We can't outgrow every thing. And there'll be summers and
summers."

"Good-by."

The gate-latch clicked: Jack walked rapidly down the street, whistling
"Kathleen Mavourneen" unconsciously. Did he dream the simple faith of
boyhood had reached its culmination, and was henceforth to wane?

"Dear old Jack," thought Fred: "I don't know as he is quite Launcelot,
though I used to think so at first. But there was Sir Gawain and Sir
Bedevere and a host of worthies, and if he only _would_ he could come up
to the highest. What makes him so obstinate and unambitious, I wonder?
Are there any King Arthurs and loyal knights nowadays, or only common
men and women?"

His sisters opened upon him with the fatal persistency of narrow
feminine natures.

"You may say what you like about Jack Darcy," he flung out angrily, "but
you'll never make me give him up,--never, never!"

"Do hush, children," interposed Mrs. Lawrence. "Fred, I hope you will
learn to modulate your voice, and not shriek so."

Sylvie put on her hat to go home. As she passed Fred she said just above
her breath,--

"You are right and brave. I wouldn't give up my friend because he was
poor; and Jack is so nice!"

"Much she knows about it," thought Fred, with a true boyish disdain. Yet
her approval of Jack was a virtue in his eyes.

CHAPTER II.

"FATHER!" exclaimed Jack a few days after this parting from his bosom
friend, "I think I will go in the mill for a year or two, if there is
any thing for me to do. Meanwhile my inspiration may come along."

"But what would you like best, Jack?"

"T