Andy did not turn in the direction of Centreville.  He felt of the pocket containing his father’s watch and the little box, and then headed straight for Millville.

That was where the big scholar, Graham, lived.  It was five miles away.  Graham boarded with the farmer who had bought Mr. Dale’s cow and calf.

Andy had kept Graham in mind ever since he had agreed to pay for burning up the hay stack.  It was about two o’clock when he reached his destination.

The night he and his school companions had restored the little calf to its frantic mother, Andy had seen Graham in the window of his room in the old farmhouse.

Andy now looked up at the window of this room.  It was open.  A trellis ran up its side.  The house was dark and silent.  He scaled the trellis and rested a hand on the window sill.

“Mr. Graham,” he called out softly.  Then he repeated the call several times, gradually raising his voice.

There was a rustle of bed clothes, a droning mumble.  Andy called again.

“What is it? who is there?” questioned Graham’s tones.

“It’s me,” said Andy.  “Don’t be disturbed.  Just listen for a minute, will you?”

“Eh!  Is that Andy Wildwood?” exclaimed Graham.

“Yes,” answered Andy.

A white-robbed figure came to the window and sat down in a chair there.  Graham rubbed his eyes and stared wonderingly at the strange midnight visitor clinging to the window sill.

“Why, what’s the trouble, Andy?” he questioned in a tone of surprise.

“It’s trouble, yes, you can make sure of that,” responded Andy with a little nervous catch in his voice.  “I’m having nothing but trouble, lately.  There’s so much of it around here that I’ve concluded to get out of it.”

“How get out of it?” demanded Graham.

“I’ve left home—­for good.  I want to leave a clear record behind me, so I’ve come to you.  You don’t mind my disturbing you this way, I hope?”

“No—­no, indeed,” answered Graham promptly.  “Run away, eh?”

“Yes, I’ve got to.  Aunt Lavinia has had me arrested; she wants to send me to reform school.”

“Why,” exclaimed Graham indignantly, “that’s a burning shame!”

“I thought so.  The constable was around last evening.  He locked me in the attic for safe keeping, but I got free, and here I am, on my way to—­to—­on my way to find work.”

“Do you mean circus work?” guessed Graham quickly.

“Why, yes, I do.  I don’t mind telling you, for you have always been a friend to us smaller boys.”

“Always will be, Andy.”

“I believe that.  We all like you.  It’s this way:  I think I have a chance to join a show, and I want to, bad.  I shall be paid something.  When I am, I want to send it to you.”

“To me?  What for, Andy?”

“Well, I smashed the desk and pulled down the chimney at the schoolhouse, you know.”