Mr. Ingalls was right in his conjecture. On board the steamer Mr. Briggs had thought of his young ward, and was rather annoyed that he had not left directions at the office that he should be paid his regular weekly stipend.

“There is one thing which I have forgotten,” he said to his wife.

“What is it?” she inquired.

“Gilbert has been in the habit of coming to me every week for his board. I ought to have left directions at the office with Seymour to pay him in my place.”

He forgot that Mrs. Briggs was not aware of this arrangement. She was not slow in expressing her dissatisfaction.

“You don’t mean to say that that boy lived on you!” she exclaimed.

“I pay his board, if that is what you mean by living on me.”

“That is what it amounts to. Why permit this?”

“Surely, you don’t expect that Gilbert will pay all his expenses out of five dollars a week,” said her husband.

“Why can’t he get along as well as other boys?”

“Other boys have no friends able to help them. Gilbert’s father was my friend, and I mean to stand by him.”

“How much do you allow him for board?”

“Six dollars a week.”

“Can’t he get boarded cheaper?”

“It seems to me that six dollars is very cheap. You remember that I spent a hundred dollars a week for you and Randolph and myself at Saratoga one season. That is about thirty-three dollars apiece.”

“There is no resemblance in the two cases,” said Mrs. Briggs, coldly. “Gilbert Greyson is only a working-boy.”

“And I am a working-man.”

“Don’t talk foolishly, Mr. Briggs,” said his wife, sharply.

“I have not much time to talk foolishly or otherwise. Will you attend to this matter of Gilbert’s board?”

“I will attend to it,” said Mrs. Briggs.

“Then there will be no need of my writing to the office.”

“No, there will be no occasion to trouble yourself further in the matter.”

On this assurance Mr. Briggs dismissed Gilbert from his mind, and shortly afterwards bade good-by to his wife and son.

“I sometimes think your father is actually soft,” said Mrs. Briggs to Randolph, on the way over the ferry. “What claim has that Greyson boy upon him, that he should squander six dollars a week upon him? And that isn’t all, I presume. I have no doubt the boy manages to coax extra money out of him almost every week.”

“He won’t get it out of you, mother,” said Randolph.

“I should say not,” said Mrs. Briggs, very emphatically. “I should feel that I was robbing you. If your father impoverishes himself by such ill-timed liberality, you will be the sufferer.”

“I didn’t think of that,” said Randolph, soberly.

“I don’t, of course, wish to be mean or parsimonious,” continued Mrs. Briggs, “but I hold that a man’s first duty is to his own family.”

“Of course it is,” said Randolph, who felt confident of it now that he saw the bearing upon his own interests.

“Will you give Gilbert the six dollars a week?” he inquired.

“Not unless he asks for it,” said Mrs. Briggs. “If he doesn’t need it there will be no occasion to offer it.”

“If he don’t ask for it, will you give it to me?” asked Randolph.

“You have an allowance of five dollars a week now. It seems to me that ought to be sufficient.”

“I can’t save anything from it. If you give me the six dollars beside, I’ll put some in the savings bank.”

“I will wait and see whether the boy calls for it.”

“I hope he won’t.”

“He probably will. He’ll take all he can get. That is his nature.”

Mrs. Briggs quite misread Gilbert, as my readers will probably judge; but she was too prejudiced to judge him fairly.

Randolph was not as mean as his mother. He had a little of his father’s nature, though he was more like his mother. The thought that it would impair his future inheritance did not much affect him, but the prospect of having his allowance so largely increased took away all consideration for Gilbert. He cared very little whether our hero was able to pay his board or not, if only the money might be paid to him. He was very selfish certainly; but he loved money for what it would buy, and not for its own sake, as was the case with his mother. Of course he hoped that Gilbert would not present himself at the house, or make inquiry for the money; but in this he was destined to be disappointed.

Sitting at the window on the evening Gilbert had resolved to call, he saw, not without disappointment, our hero mount the steps and ring the bell.

“He’s come, mother,” said he, in a tone of regret.

“Who has come?”

“Gilbert Greyson. I suppose he has come for his six dollars.”

“I suppose he has,” said Mrs. Briggs, with a curl of the lip. “I knew he wouldn’t keep away long. Now, Randolph, one thing I ask,—don’t say a word about the matter. I want to make him introduce the subject himself. I don’t wish to spare him any embarrassment.”

“All right, mother.”

Directly the door opened, and Gilbert entered.

“Good-evening, Mrs. Briggs,” he said, approaching and taking the lady’s hand. She just touched his hand coldly, and withdrew hers.

“Good-evening,” she said, briefly.

“Good-evening, Randolph,” said Gilbert, turning to the younger member of the party.

“Good-evening,” said Randolph, less frigidly. “Have you got a place yet?”

“Not yet. My employer has not returned from Washington.”

“Probably it will make very little difference to you how long he stays,” said Mrs. Briggs, disagreeably.

“I hope it will make considerable,” returned Gilbert. “I was surprised to hear that Mr. Briggs had gone to Europe.”

“He went very suddenly,” said Randolph. “It has put off my birthday party.”

“I should like to have seen him before he went,” said Gilbert.

“He had no time to notify all his acquaintances that he was going,” said Mrs. Briggs.

“How long will he be gone?”

“It is quite uncertain,” said the lady, shortly. “It will depend on his business, of course.”

“I wish this visit were well over,” thought Gilbert, but he felt that he must introduce the matter which led to his call.

“Did Mr. Briggs leave any message for me?” he inquired.

“Any message for you?” repeated Mrs. Briggs, arching her eyebrows. “Why should you expect that he would leave any message for you?”

“Perhaps you are not aware,” said Gilbert, uncomfortably, “that Mr. Briggs, while I am at work on small wages, has been in the habit of paying my board.”

“Indeed!” said Mrs. Briggs, in apparent surprise. “Why should he do that?”

“Out of friendship for my father, he told me,” said Gilbert.

“I should hardly have supposed that you would request such a thing of one not related to you.”

“I didn’t request it,” said Gilbert, coloring. “Mr. Briggs was kind enough to offer to do it. I accepted, on condition that I might hereafter repay him what money he should advance.”

“It is not very likely the money will ever be repaid,” said Mrs. Briggs, coldly.

“It will be repaid if I live,” said Gilbert, warmly.

“I have heard such promises before,” said the lady, contemptuously. “They are generally made to be broken.”

“Not in my case,” said Gilbert, flushing.

“I will not discuss the matter,” said Mrs. Briggs, coldly. “May I ask why you have introduced this subject?”

“Mr. Briggs gave me no notice that he intended to withdraw his assistance, and I accordingly went to the office yesterday, only to learn that he had gone to Europe, and left no message there. I thought he might possibly have spoken to you on the subject, and therefore I called. My board-bill, amounting to six dollars, is due to-night, and unfortunately I have no funds to meet it.”

“It must be rather humiliating for you to accept charity,” said Mrs. Briggs. “I don’t think my son would be willing to do it.”

“I should say not,” said Randolph.

“Say nothing more, Mrs. Briggs,” said Gilbert, rising. “If you regard it in that light, I wish no assistance.”

“I don’t wish you to suffer,” continued Mrs. Briggs, coldly. “I will give you money for your board-bill, if you will tell me how much it amounts to.”

“Thank you, I won’t trouble you,” said Gilbert. “I shall get along somehow. Good-evening.”

“You are impetuous. You will bear in mind that I have not refused you the money.”

“I will bear it in mind. Good-evening, madam.”

“You did it well, mother,” said Randolph, admiringly, as our hero left the house. “Will you give me the six dollars, now he has refused it?”

“I will give it to you this week, Randolph; but mind, I make no promises for the future.”

“I guess it’s all right,” thought Randolph, pocketing the bills complacently. “I’ll take care she keeps it up.”