John Rexford cared very little for the interests of others. His humanity was dwarfed and his regard for Fred's feelings or reputation amounted to nothing. In fact, he cherished malice against the boy for getting the better of him in the matter of his dealings with his customers.

That our young friend should have found out so much about his business methods, and should dare to hold the threat of exposure over his head, rankled in the breast of J. Rexford, Esq. With something of a spirit of revenge he took good care to let his suspicions become generally known regarding his former clerk, knowing, as he must, that the injury to him would be almost irreparable.

In consequence of the merchant's free expression of opinion, by noon nearly all of the villagers knew of Fred's discharge and his dishonesty—or rather what they supposed and were willing to accept as his dishonesty.

They further coupled this episode with the bar room occurrence, and at once decided that Worthington was a dissipated young scamp, and whatever good opinions they might have held of him before were straightway forgotten.

Thus was Fred rated by the people of Mapleton, many of whom he met on coming from the mill. As he passed up the street towards his home some of them spoke to him in a strained, unnatural manner, others looked at him in a knowing way, and a few small boys crowded about him, as though he was on exhibition.

Here and there, also, curious feminine heads appeared at the windows, and though Fred walked with his eyes apparently fixed upon the ground, they were turned upward sufficiently to catch glimpses of certain well known forms, and he believed himself the subject of their thoughts and conversation.

Once he raised his head as if by an irresistible impulse, for he was then passing the residence of Dr. Dutton. Why he did so he could not satisfy himself, for he half expected to see Miss Nellie at the window, and he dreaded meeting her eyes; yet there was a strange fascination about the house, and with this sense of dread, strong as it was, he was conscious of a much stronger desire to look on her sweet face, hoping that her eyes might show at least a kindly feeling towards him, if nothing more. But instead of Nellie he saw her mother, who seemed looking directly at him."She must have heard everything from the new clerk," thought Fred, and he fancied that in his single hasty glance he saw a look of mingled sympathy and sorrow.

He knew her for a noble, tender hearted woman, one who had shown him many a kindness, and who possessed such delicacy of feeling that she had never referred in his presence to that wretched night when he called there in a state of intoxication.

When our young friend reached home, he was despondent, as you may imagine. He threw himself upon the lounge, and thought over the occurrences of the morning—of his unsuccessful attempt to get work, and of the general attitude of the people—and it seemed to his young and sensitive mind that he could not bear their unjust suspicions.

Then he remembered the kindness of Mr. Farrington, who had promised to assist him in trying to clear his reputation, and expressed a desire to aid him in other ways. The thought made him sincerely thankful that he had been one of Mr. Farrington's scholars in Sunday school, and had thereby gained the friendship of such a man. To have a friend like him at this time was worth everything, for Mr. Farrington was a prominent man and had great influence throughout the village.Our young friend remained at home the rest of the day. In the evening his friend Dave called.

"Tell me how it all happened, Fred," said he, taking him by the hand with a friendly grasp.

"I suppose you have heard the whole story long before this."

"Yes, but I want to hear your side, and then I shall know the truth."

"Thank you, Dave, for your confidence in me. I only wish others had half as much. Yes, I am through at the old store that I thought so much of."

"But is it possible you were discharged, as I heard at school?"

"Yes, I was discharged," replied Fred sorrowfully. "I tell you, Dave," he continued, "it is pretty hard to be discharged on an unjust suspicion, and to be looked upon in the village as I am tonight."

"It's too bad! I'm sorry for you, Fred, and I think De Vere is the cause of the whole trouble."

"I don't see how he could have been at the bottom of what came up yesterday between Mr. Rexford and me."

"Well, I believe, from what he said, that he was the means of your first trouble, and I can't see why you won't charge him with it, and not let every one think he is so nice and that you are guilty."

"What has he said?" asked Fred eagerly, thinking perhaps Matthew had exultingly told the boys his trick.

"He told Tom Martin that he was glad you showed up as you did, for it gave the people a chance to see what kind of a fellow you were."

"Was that all he said?"

"No; Tom said to him that he supposed he and you were great friends, as he had seen you together so much. De Vere replied that he knew what he was about, and had gained his point. That's all I heard. Isn't that enough?"

"Oh, that doesn't count for anything!" replied Fred, turning the matter off. "But tell me," he continued, "what was said at school about me. You said you heard the report there."

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

"Yes; I am not expecting anything complimentary, and may as well know the worst."

Dave Farrington hesitated a moment, unwilling to repeat the unkind words of Fred's former schoolmates.

"The worst came from De Vere," he said at length.

Fred's face colored.

"I expected this," he replied; "but what did he say?""When I got to the school house for the afternoon session, De Vere was there, and knowing that I always stood up for you, he cried out in a sneering way:

"'Well, Farrington, what have you to say for your friend Worthington now? I suppose, of course, you know what he has done, and that John Rexford discharged him last night?'

"I said, 'Yes, I know about his discharge, but I don't know that he has done anything to deserve it.'

"'He stole some money from the drawer,' he returned.

"'How do you know that?' I asked.

"'Why, everybody says so! I always said that you would get enough of him,' he replied.

"'That is no proof, and, besides, I want you to know I haven't enough of him yet,' said I. 'I have not been friends with him for the same reason that you were, nor do I propose to leave him under such circumstances.' I guess that must have hit him pretty hard, for he colored up as red as could be and acted mad."

Fred found it difficult to restrain his anger as he saw the bitter enmity of De Vere, and realized his gratification over his own misfortune—a misfortune of which Matthew was the cause. But he finally asked what the other scholars had to say about him."Well, they all talked about the matter, and most of them seemed to think that you were guilty, though Grace Bernard said she heard her father say that there might have been some mistake about the bill, and that she didn't believe you stole it, for you were always one of the best boys in school."

"That's better than I expected," replied Fred, with a brighter look. "But is that all?" he asked, with some anxiety.

Dave noticed this, and suspecting his meaning, hesitated. "I guess it is about all," he answered.

Fred seemed disappointed at not getting the answer he sought. Seeing he was not likely to get at what interested him most—Miss Nellie's opinion—he asked openly if she were not there, and what she said.

"I don't remember exactly what she said," replied Dave, "but she seemed to side with Matthew. You know they are pretty intimate now; he seems to have better success there than when you went to school. I tell you what it is, Fred, if you hadn't got tipsy, he wouldn't have had much show, but that's what killed you. The girls all said more about that than they did about this."

Fred had his answer now, and it was anything but welcome intelligence to him. There is no denying that he cared more for Nellie's good opinion than for what all the rest of the school thought of him.

"She has condemned me at once," he said to himself bitterly, "while Grace Bernard has proved my friend; and she has not only condemned me without reason, but has taken up with my enemy—with that scoundrel De Vere, who has been the cause of all my trouble."