ound something better."

"I'm glad if I've been of any use to you," replied Irving. "I know you
didn't expect I would be when you took me in. And your giving me this
chance has meant that I could stay on here and tutor Lawrence this
summer and at the same time pay all my living expenses. It's been more
of a help than you know--to Lawrence as well as to me."

"You're both good boys," said Mr. Beasley. "But it seems like you're too
shy and quiet ever to make much of a lawyer, Irving--or a teacher," he
added, in candid criticism.

Irving blushed. "Maybe I'll get over that in time, Mr. Beasley."

"You had better," observed the storekeeper. "It's of no manner of use to
anybody--not a particle. Lawrence, now, is different."

Yes, Lawrence was different; the fact impressed itself that evening on
Irving when his brother came home from the haying field with his uncle.
Lawrence was big and ruddy and laughing; Irving was slight and delicate
and grave. The two boys went together to their room to make themselves
ready for supper.

"We finished the north meadow to-day," said Lawrence,--"the whole of it.
So don't blame me if I go to sleep over French verbs this evening."

"I'll tell you something that will wake you up," Irving replied. "I'm
going to teach at St. Timothy's School--in New Hampshire. So your going
to college is sure, and we'll be only a couple of hours apart."

"Oh, Irv!" In Lawrence's exclamation there was more expressiveness, more
joy, than in all his brother's carefully restrained statement. "Oh, Irv!
Isn't it splendid! I think you're the finest thing--!" Lawrence grasped
Irving's hand and at the same time began thumping him on the back. Then
he opened the door and shouted down the stairs.

"Uncle Bob! Aunt Ann! Irv has some great news to-night."

Mrs. Upton put her head out into the hall; she was setting the table and
held a plate of bread.

"What is it, Irv? Have you--have you had a letter?"

There was an anxious, almost a regretful note in her voice.

"Yes," said Irving. "I'll tell you about it when I come down."

At the supper table he expounded all the details. Like Mr. Beasley, his
uncle and his aunt had never heard of St. Timothy's School. Irving was
able to enlighten them. At college he had become familiar with its
reputation; it was one of the big preparatory schools in which the
position of teacher had seemed to him desirable almost beyond the hope
of attainment.

He recited the terms which