"How do you like your step-father, Frank," asked Ben Cameron as the two boys were walking home from school together.

"You mean Mr. Craven?"

"Of course. He is your step-father, isn't he?"

"I suppose he is, but I don't like to think of him in that way."

"Is he disagreeable, then?"

"He treats me well enough," said Frank, slowly; "but, for all that, I dislike him. His appearance, his manners, his soft voice and stealthy ways are all disagreeable to me. As he is my mother's husband, I wish I could like him, but I can't."

"I don't wonder at it, Frank. I don't fancy him myself."

"Somehow, everything seems changed since he came. He seems to separate my mother from me."

"Well, Frank, I suppose you must make the best of it. If he doesn't interfere with you, that is one good thing. Some step-fathers would, you know."

"He hasn't, so far; but sometimes I fear that he will in the future."

"Have you any reason for thinking so?"

"A day or two since he called me, just as I was leaving the house to come and see you, and asked if I were willing to have him join with my mother as my guardian."

"What did you say?"

"That I didn't want any change. He said the responsibility was too great for a woman."

"What answer did you make?"

"That my mother could get as much help and advice as she needed, even if she were sole guardian."

"Did he seem angry?"

"Not at all. He turned it off very pleasantly, and said he would not detain me any longer."

"Then why should you feel uneasy?"

"I think there's something underhand about him. He seems to me like a cat that purrs and rubs herself against you, but has claws concealed, and is open to scratch when she gets ready."

Ben laughed.

"The comparison does you credit, Frank," said he. "There's something in it, too. Mr. Craven is like a cat—that is, in his ways; but I hope he won't show his claws."

"When he does I shall be ready for him," said Frank, stoutly. "I am not afraid of him, but I don't like the idea of having such a person in the family."

They had arrived at this point in the conversation when they were met by a tall man, of dark complexion, who was evidently a stranger in the village. In a small town of two thousand inhabitants, where every person is known to every other, a strange face attracts attention, and the boys regarded this man with curiosity. He paused as they neared him, and, looking from one to the other, inquired:

"Can you direct me to Mr. Craven's office?"

The two boys exchanged glances.

Frank answered:

"It is that small building on the left-hand side of the street, but I am not sure whether he is there yet."

Curious to know how the boy came to know so much of Mr. Craven's movements, the stranger said:

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, sir; he is my step-father."

It was the first time he had ever made the statement, and, true as he knew it to be, he made it with rising color and a strange reluctance.

"Oh, indeed!" returned the stranger, looking very much surprised. "He is your step-father?"

"Yes; he married my mother," said Frank, hurriedly.

"Then you think he may not have come to the office yet?"

"There he is, just opening the door," said Ben, pointing to Mr. Craven, who, unaware of the interest his appearance excited, was just opening the door of the office, in which he was really beginning to do a little business. His marriage to a woman of property, and the reports which had leaked out that he had a competence of his own, had inspired a degree of confidence in him which before had not existed.

"Thank you," said the stranger. "As he is in, I will call upon him."