TOM RE-ENTERED his new boarding-place as the clock struck eight. Mr. and Mrs. Middleton were discussing him, but stopped short as he came in. They foresaw that he would be troublesome, but there is great power in money, and they had just a thousand reasons for keeping on good terms with him.

“Have you been taking a walk, Mr. Temple?” said Nathan blandly.

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope you like our village,” chimed in the lady.

“I don’t know,” said Tom. “I don’t like the people much.”

“Indeed! May I ask why?”

“They stared as me as if they had never seen a gentleman before, and one old woman stopped and wanted to know all about me.”

“It must have been Prudence Peabody,” said Mr. Middleton. “How did she look?”

“She was born at a time when it wasn’t fashionable to be good-looking,” answered Tom. “She is short, wrinkled, and walks a little lame.”

“That’s she.”

“I told her I was the grandson of General Washington’s first cousin,” said Tom, “and the old fright believed it.”

“I fear, my young friend, that you are not sufficiently regardful of the truth,” expostulated Mr. Middleton, with mild censure.

“Oh, I was only chaffing. If she believes it, it won’t do her any harm.”

“I had a fight besides,” continued Tom.

“A fight! Not with Miss Peabody?” asked Mrs. Middleton, horror-stricken.

“Not much. I don’t fight with women,” said Tom. “It was with two boys. One said his father was a lawyer.”

“It must be James Davenport,” said Nathan, disturbed. “How came you to fight with him?”

“He and another fellow were pitching ball, and wouldn’t let me into the game, so I grabbed the ball, and they went for me.”

“Were you much hurt?”

“I wasn’t the one that was hurt,” said Tom significantly. “I laid them both flat and threw the ball into a corn-field.”

“Really,” said Mrs. Middleton, who stood in considerable awe of the lawyer’s family, “that was very unprincipled.”

“I regret exceedingly, my young friend,” said Nathan gravely, “that you should have committed an unprovoked assault upon the son and nephew of one of our first citizens.”

“It was their fault,” said Tom coolly. “Why were they so boorish as to decline playing with me?”

“They didn’t know you.”

“They know me now,” said Tom significantly.

“Was the ball lost?” asked Mr. Middleton, disturbed.

“Very likely. It wouldn’t be easy to find it in a corn-field.”

“Then you are responsible for the loss.”

“Oh, I am willing to pay for it. I told them so. If the old man——”

“The old man!”

“Yes, the lawyer—if he sends you a note about it, just pay it to him and charge to me.”

“How can I be sure that I shall be repaid?” inquired Nathan cautiously.

“Oh, I’ll see you paid. I’ve got twenty-five dollars in my pocket-book.”

Nathan was relieved. He had no fancy for running any pecuniary risk.

“Still,” he said, “I regret this occurrence.”

“You must be very quarrelsome,” said Mrs. Middleton, who didn’t like Tom, and would have showed it much more plainly if he had been a poor boy.

“I suppose I am,” said Tom frankly. “They used to call me the bully of the village, but I never tyrannized over weak boys. It’s only the upstarts and pretenders that I interfere with. Those boys I saw to-night need a few lessons in good manners.”

“My young friend, I fear you quite mistake their character. They stand high socially—very high—indeed I may say they belong to one of the first families, if not our very first. I had hoped you would find them congenial companions.”

“I am afraid you’ll be disappointed,” said Tom. “They seem to me like snobs.”

Mr. and Mrs. Middleton exchanged looks of discomposure. They feared that Tom would get them on bad terms with the lawyer’s family, whom, like true sycophants, they were disposed to fawn upon.

“We will talk of this another time,” said Nathan. “Whenever you are tired you are at liberty to retire. Is there anything you would like first?”

“Yes,” said Tom unexpectedly. “I should like something to eat.”

“We have had supper,” said Mrs. Middleton, in a pointed manner.

“I know it, but I have been walking, and am hungry.”

“It is very injurious to the health to eat just before going to sleep,” said Nathan, reinforcing his wife.

“I’ll take the risk,” said Tom coolly. “If I get sick no one will suffer but myself.”

“Corinthia, is there anything in the pantry?” asked Nathan deprecatingly, for he saw a frown on the face of his spouse.

“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Middleton shortly. “Perhaps you are hungry, too,” she added sarcastically.

“Oh, dear, no!” said Nathan hastily, “not after our hearty supper.”

“Does he call the supper hearty?” thought Tom. “I’ll bet the old woman won’t let him have what he wants to eat.”

Here Tom was mistaken, for Mr. and Mrs. Middleton were quite agreed in their notions of economy.

Very much against her will Mrs. Middleton produced some bread and butter, and on Tom’s specially calling for it, some meat. Her thin lips were compressed with displeasure, and she very evidently thought our hero a glutton. If she expected her displeasure would produce the least effect on Tom, she was mistaken. He ate heartily—in fact, he ate all that was set before him.

“Have you had enough?” asked Mrs. Middleton sharply.

“It will do,” said Tom coolly.

“I am glad of it,” she retorted.

“Pleasant female that!” thought Tom. “She isn’t used to me yet. She’ll find it harder to starve me than she thinks.”

“Now, I think I’ll go to bed,” said Tom. “Oh, there’s one thing I forgot to mention; I noticed there was a straw-bed in my room.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Middleton. “Doesn’t it suit you?”

“No, I am used to a mattress.”

“Mr. Middleton and I sleep on a straw-bed.”

“It’s all right if you like it, but I don’t like it.”

“Really,” said Mrs. Middleton, who could not control herself at the bidding of policy as well as her husband, “if you are an inmate of our family, I think you will have to conform to our regulations.”

“Then,” said Tom, “I think I had better not trouble you any longer. I can easily find another boarding-place.”

But this did not suit Mr. Middleton. He could not bear the idea of giving up twenty dollars a week, and although it would cost money to buy a mattress, according to Tom’s unreasonable desire, and make more liberal arrangements for the table, all that could be done, and still a considerable margin be left for profit.

“My young friend,” he said, “Mrs. Middleton and I will talk over the matter and see what we can do. Of course our first desire is to make you as comfortable as possible.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Tom, with the air of one who heard something unexpected.

“I hope you will have no cause to doubt it,” Nathan continued. “Good-night, and pleasant dreams.”

“Good-night,” said Tom. “Please thump on my door in the morning, when breakfast is ready.”

“He’s a perfect pig,” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, when our hero had left the room. “I never in all my born days saw a boy eat so much.”

“He certainly has a good appetite,” said Nathan.

“He’ll eat us out of house and home,” said the lady indignantly.

“But you must remember, my dear, how well we are paid. You get six dollars a week clear profit, while out of my fourteen I have to pay the large expense of his board.”

“True,” said Mrs. Middleton, more calmly, “viewed in that light, it is well to keep him. But I ask you, Mr. Middleton, is it well to yield to all his unreasonable demands?”

“Why, my dear, we must try to keep him contented or he will go away.”

“I hate him!” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, with energy.

“I can’t say I like him,” said Nathan, “but I like the money I am to receive from him.”

The two talked together for an hour, Tom being the staple of their conversation. They were about to retire for the night, when a series of noises of a startling character resounded through the house, evidently proceeding from Tom’s chamber.

“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s that boy,” gasped Nathan.

“Go up and see what is the matter, Mr. Middleton.”

“Come with me, Corinthia,” said Nathan, in tremulous accents. “He may be crazy.”

In a state of nervous apprehension the two made their way to the door of Tom’s room.