Though Matthew De Vere was much gratified at Fred's misfortunes, and especially pleased at his own renewed friendship with Nellie Dutton, he was nevertheless far from happy. Time was going by rapidly—almost flying—and no money had been raised to meet his promise to Jacob Simmons. The three hundred dollars was constantly in his mind. Where and how could it be raised?

The problem tormented him day and night, and he could see no solution to it. He did not dare to speak to his father about the money, for the latter would then find out everything, and would be sure to punish him severely. Matthew did not look upon such an outcome with any degree of favor. He considered himself a young man, and did not propose to be treated with the rod.

On the other hand, there stared him in the face Jacob Simmons' threat of exposure and arrest. The situation was desperate. The money must be got, whether or no, and yet how could it be procured?

If he failed in raising it, the boy he hated would be vindicated, while he would be shown up and disgraced before all the village. Nellie would have nothing more to do with him—would not so much as look at him—and she would, he reasoned, again become friendly with Fred, and then he would have no power to break it off as he had recently done. She would be lost to him, and his rival would reign in his stead.

"No, no! This shall not be!" he said angrily, and spurned the thought from him; but it as quickly returned. He tried to forget it, but could not. The pressure from Jacob Simmons forced it back upon his mind, and it remained there and tormented him till he was almost mad.

In this condition of mind he went to school next day, hoping that a pleasant greeting and a few smiles from Nellie would dissipate the vision that had so haunted him. Perhaps they would have done so, but he had not the pleasure of testing so desirable a remedy.

Nellie came late—after school had commenced.

"It is just my luck that she should be late to-day," he thought, "when she is always so punctual."

He often looked toward her seat, but could not catch her eye. She seemed unusually busy with her books.

Matthew did not know what to make of it. He looked at his watch—a handsome gold one that his father had given him as a birthday present. It wanted only fifteen minutes of recess time.

"I will see her then," thought Matthew.

The bell rang, and the scholars left their seats and passed out into the anteroom—all save those who wished to remain and study.

Matthew grew anxious as Nellie did not come out with the other girls. Recess was half gone. He made an excuse to go to his seat on the pretense of getting something, but really to try and speak to Nellie. She was with the teacher, however, who was assisting her to work a difficult example.

Matthew returned to the anteroom angry. He could not bear the disappointment gracefully.

"She avoids me for some cause," he said to himself, and then wondered what it could be. "Last night," he reflected, "we were the best of friends. Can it be possible that Simmons has already told the secret? He threatened yesterday that he would unless I made a payment."

The thought made him wretched. He was unfit for study, and wanted to get out to learn if any such report had actually been circulated.

On the reassembling of school he obtained a dismissal for the day on the plea of feeling ill. He was ill—very ill at ease in his mind, beset as it was with fears, and troubled over the sudden change in Nellie's manner toward him.

On his way from school he met Tim Short. He was glad to see him, and yet shuddered for fear he would say it was all up with them.

"What brings you here at this time?" finally asked Matthew.

"I was going up to school to see you."

"What has happened that you want to see me?" queried Matthew, dreading the answer.

"I have been discharged."

"Is that all?" drawing a long breath of relief.

"Isn't that enough?" asked Tim indignantly.

"It might be worse; but what were you discharged for?"

"Discharged to give Fred Worthington my place, I suppose," answered Tim, with evident ill feeling toward Fred.

"Is it possible? And has he your place?"

"Yes, he went to work this morning."

"I think you have as much cause now as I have to be down on him."

"Yes, and more too," returned Tim savagely.

"On his account we got into this trouble with Simmons, and are liable to be exposed any day," said Matthew.

Tim turned pale. "I thought you promised to fix that," he replied."So I did, but I have not been able to raise the money. Now, something has got to be done at once. Let us go up to the pines and decide what it shall be."

Tim assented, and the two boys soon found themselves quite alone in the thick pine grove just outside of the village.

Now the change Nellie Dutton showed toward Matthew was not caused, as he supposed, by any disclosure from Jacob Simmons, but by the letter she had received from Fred in the morning before going to school.

It made a deep impression upon her. She was impulsive, like nearly all girls of her age, and did not stop to reason much about Fred's case, especially since Matthew urged his opinions upon her with such assurance. Her intimacy with Matthew was not from any great regard that she had for him, but because her nature seemed to demand some favorite, and when her friendship with Fred ceased, for reasons with which the reader is already familiar, she accepted Matthew's attentions with a little more than ordinary courtesy.

Now she saw she had judged Fred hastily, and the statement in his letter, that she had not proved as good a friend as Grace Bernard, touched her as nothing else had ever done. She admitted the truth of his assertion, and felt truly sorry that she had not been more loyal to him."I shall regret my present intimacy with one who has no honor," she mused. "He must have meant Matthew, and I wonder if he referred to him in saying, 'when I was led to your house on that wretched night by a certain person.'" This thought once having taken shape grew upon her.

Nellie studied over Fred's letter, reading it again and again. "You know he is my enemy." She did not notice this before, but now it recalls the night of the party. "Yes, Fred, I do know it," she said to herself almost audibly, "but I had almost forgotten the spite he showed you."

This thought placed Matthew under suspicion, and went far toward helping Fred's cause, though he was now so thoroughly under a cloud.

Nellie found herself repeating over this sentence: "Grace Bernard stood by me while you did not." She could hardly drive it from her thoughts, but why it clung so to her she did not suspect. That evening she wrote an answer to Fred's letter, and sealed it ready to mail in the morning.

The night was cloudy and dark. A cold November wind from the northeast swept over the little village—so icy and damp that none cared to venture out.

There was no trade for the merchants, and they closed their stores early and hurried shivering to their homes. By ten o'clock not a light was anywhere to be seen.

All had retired, and nearly all had entered into happy dreamland when they were suddenly awakened by the shrill cry of "Fire! fire! fire!"

Soon the words were taken up by others and yet others till every person in the village was aroused and startled by the sound.