T HE more Oliver thought about it, the stranger it seemed to him that the letter intended for him should have been lost. In spite of Mr.Kenyon's plausible explanations, he felt that it had been suppressed. But why? He could conceive of no motive for the deed. He had no secret correspondent, nor had he any secret to conceal. He was quite at sea in his conjectures.

He could not help showing by his manner the suspicion he entertained. Mr.Kenyon did not appear to notice it, but it was far from escaping his attention. He knew something about character reading, and he saw that Oliver was very determined, and, once aroused, would make trouble.

"There is only one way," he muttered, as he furtively regarded the grave look on the boyish face of his step-son. "There is only one way, and I must try it!"

He felt that there was daily peril. Any day another letter might arrive at the post-office, and it might fall this time into Oliver's hands. True, he had received a letter from Dr.Fox, in which he expressed his inability to discover how the letter had been mailed without his knowledge, but assuring Mr.Kenyon that it should not happen again.

"I shall not hereafter allow your wife the use of writing materials," he said. "This will remove all danger."

Still Mr.Kenyon felt unsettled and ill at ease. In spite of all Dr.Fox's precautions, a letter might be written, and this would be most disastrous to him.

"Oliver," said Mr.Kenyon one evening, "I have to go to New York on business to-morrow; would you like to go with me?"

"Yes, sir," said Oliver promptly.

To a country boy, who had not been in New York more than half a dozen times in the course of his life, such a trip promised great enjoyment, even where the company was uncongenial.

"We shall probably remain over night," said his step-father. "I don't think I can get through all my business in one day."

"All the better, sir," said Oliver. "I never stopped over night in New York."

"Then you will enjoy it. If I have a chance I will take you to the theatre."

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, forgetting for the moment his prejudice against his step-father. "Is Roland going?" he asked.

"No," answered Mr.Kenyon.

Oliver stared in surprise. It seemed strange to him that he should be offered an enjoyment of which Roland was deprived.

"I can't undertake to manage two boys at a time," said Mr.Kenyon decisively. "Roland will have to wait till the next time."

"That's queer," thought Oliver, but he did not dwell too much on the thought. He was too well satisfied with having been the favored one, for this time at least.

Roland was not present when his father made this proposal, but he soon heard of it. His dissatisfaction may well be imagined. What! Was he, Mr.Kenyon's own son, to be passed over in favor of Oliver? He became alarmed. Was he losing his old place, and was Oliver going to supplant him? To his mind Oliver had of late been treated altogether too well, and he did not like it.

He rushed into his father's presence, his cheeks pale with anger.

"What is this I hear?" he burst out. "Are you going to take Oliver to New York, and leave me at home?"

"Yes, Roland, but——"

"Then it's a mean shame. Anyone would think he was your son, and not I."

"You don't understand, Roland. I have an object in view."

"What is it?" asked Roland, his curiosity overcoming his anger.

"It will be better for you in the end, Roland. You don't like Oliver, do you?"

"No. I hate him."

"You wouldn't mind if he didn't come back, would you?"

"Is that what you mean, father?" asked Roland, pricking up his ears.

"Yes. I am going to place him in a cheap boarding-school where he will be ruled with a rod of iron. Of course Oliver doesn't understand that. He thinks only that he is going to take a little trip to New York. Your presence would interfere with my plans, don't you see?"

"That's good," chuckled Roland with malicious merriment. "Do they flog at the school he's going to?"

"With great severity."

"Ho! ho! He'll get more than he bargains for. I don't mind staying at home now, father."

"Hope you'll have a good time, Oliver," said Roland, with a chuckle, when Oliver and his father were on the point of starting. "How lonely I'll feel without you!"

Oliver thought it rather strange that Roland should acquiesce so readily in the plan which left him at home, but it soon passed away from his mind.