sir."

"The first thing you'll do when you go to school will be to smoke; not
because you like it but because it's against the rules. Break all the
rules you can, my boy, and get sent home, for you're needed here."

"Naw," Tom replied turning at him and almost snarling, "I ain't no use."

Young Merryvale regarded the boy with some amazement, then noting the
grimness of his expression, said nothing further. In a moment Hertha,
wearing her long coat, came down the stairs and she and her brother went
on their way.

Before he went to his room that night, Tom spoke a word alone with
Ellen. "Don't let Sister grieve too much," he said.

Ellen looked at him sadly. "You put me in a very hard position, Tom. You
make me seem almost cruel."

"Never mind about that. What's done can't be mended. But don't let
Hertha grieve--not if you can help it."

He kissed his older sister good-night and went into his little room,
there to sit upon his trunk and with his face in his hands bury himself
in thought.

"Ef I was any use," he said, "Ellen couldn't drag me away; but I ain't
the brother she needs."

He stepped up the gangway into the little boat the next morning like a
man. They were all there to see him off: his mother wiping her eyes and
telling him to be her good boy; Ellen, resolute, not giving way to her
sorrow; and Hertha, his beautiful sister, waving her handkerchief, her
lips trying to smile. He watched them until the boat was far out in the
stream; and then, with a very sober face, took his seat where he could
look ahead toward the nearing sea.

CHAPTER III

It was still early morning when the boat left the dock and the three
women walked back toward their home after their good-by to Tom. No one
spoke for a time and then Aunt Maggie said impressively, "Dere ain't no
use in cryin' 'bout what yer can't help. Tom's gone, but maybe it'll
make a man o' him; maybe it were best fer him ter leabe de women folk.
Heah 'tis, Monday morning. Ellen, hab yer settle in yer mind which o' de
boys gits de washin' ter my folks?"

"I suppose," said Hertha, "it will be either Thaddeus Jackson or Obadiah
Thomas."

"It will be Thaddeus," Ellen answered. "He will do it all right, Mammy,
because his father lets him save his money."

"I hope he isn't saving to go to school," said Hertha; and then, quite
unexpectedly to herself, laughed. She had been living so many days
weighted with sorrow that the sailing of the boat had come a