It was not till supper-time that Andy was introduced to the members of Mr. Brackett’s family.

“I hope you’ll do better than the last boy,” said Mrs. Brackett.

“I hope so,” said Andy.

Here Mr. Dodge entered the room.

“Father, I’ve hired a new boy,” said Mr. Brackett.

“I see you have,” replied the old man, demurely, looking at Andy as if he had never seen him before. “What’s his name?”

“Henry Miller.”

“I am glad to see you, Henry,” said the old gentleman, with a smile.

“Thank you, sir!”

Just then Andy felt his next neighbor at the table, Tommy, trying to stick a pin into his leg. It was one of the engaging tricks of Mr. Brackett’s promising heir.

Now, Andy was not inclined to submit to anything of the kind, and he forcibly took the pin from the hands of the young mischief-maker.

“Gimme my pin!” screamed Tommy.

For answer, Andy stuck it into his coat lapel on the opposite side.

“Have you got Tommy’s pin?” asked Mrs. Brackett, angrily.

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Andy.

“Give it right back to him!”

“So I will, after supper; but I object to his using my leg for a pincushion,” answered our hero, coolly.

Mrs. Brackett’s temper was not of the best.

“Do you hear that, Mr. Brackett?” she snapped.

“Hear what, Lucinda?”

“Hear that boy defy me to my face?”

“I guess you’d better give Tommy his pin,” said Mr. Brackett, who stood in awe of his wife.

“You must excuse me, sir, unless you give him a different place at the table,” said Andy, firmly, but with perfect politeness.

“Come here and sit by your mother, my angel!” said Mrs. Brackett.

As Tommy rose to obey, Andy, with a smile, restored to him his pin.

I am sorry to relate the sequel. Tommy, emboldened by his success, seized an opportunity playfully to prick his mother, and found that he had made a decided blunder. The lady instantly seized the young culprit by the collar and dragged him from the room, shaking him vigorously.

“I’ll learn you to play tricks on your ma!” she exclaimed, angrily. “Not another mouthful shall you have to eat to-night, you saucy little imp! But what can be expected when your father upholds you in your bad actions?”

“Really, Lucindy,” exclaimed Mr. Brackett, justly astonished, “I don’t understand you!”

Mrs. Brackett volunteered no explanation, but flounced back to her seat, and the remainder of the meal was passed in solemn and dreary silence.

Andy was very much amused at the sudden change in Mrs. Brackett’s sentiments toward her angel boy, but of course said nothing.

Later in the evening he got a chance to speak a few words, unobserved, with the old gentleman.

“You did right, Henry,” said Mr. Dodge—(It was decided from motives of prudence that he had better call our hero by this name)—“in showing that young torment that he couldn’t play tricks on you. He is about the worst behaved boy I know.”

“Does he ever trouble you, sir?”

“‘No; not much. His parents think it would not be politic to let him.”

“Mrs. Brackett seems a very agreeable woman,” said Andy, laughing.

“She’s a good deal worse than her husband. She is very bad-tempered, mean and disagreeable. She isn’t lazy, like her husband, but he is better natured than she. How do you think you shall like staying here?”

“I wouldn’t stay a day longer if it were not for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Henry! You are a good boy. I shan’t stay long myself, but there are some things I must attend to before I can go away.”

Here Brackett came in sight, and the two separated, not wishing to excite his suspicions.