Later in the day he met Andy.

Andy had heard of Conrad’s loss and was full of sympathy.

“Conrad,” he said, “it’s a shame about your boat being destroyed.”

“Yes, it is pretty hard.”

“The boys say a tramp did the mischief.”

“I think it very likely.  There was a tramp about town yesterday.  I saw him myself.”

“What could have been his object?  Ruining the boat would not benefit him.”

“It might have been out of revenge.  He asked me for a quarter and I wouldn’t give it to him.”

This explanation occurred to Conrad on the spur of the moment.

“Can’t you have him arrested?”

“He is probably out of town by this time.”

“I suppose you will have a new boat?”

“Yes, after a while.”

“I will lend you mine any time you wish.”

“Thank you,” said Conrad, but he spoke coldly and ungraciously.

It seemed to him humiliating to receive any favors from a poor boy like Andy Grant.

Two weeks later, when Andy went over to the hotel, as usual, to meet his employer and pupil, Mr. Gale said: 

“I have some news for you.”

“I hope it is good news.”

“I don’t know that you will consider it so.  I shall have to leave you for a time.”

Andy’s face fell.  This certainly was bad news.

“I have received a letter this morning,” continued Walter Gale, “from an uncle living in the interior of Pennsylvania.  He is not an old man—­I don’t think he is much over fifty—­but he writes me that he is near his end.  The doctor says he may live three months, certainly not over six.  He has always been a bachelor, and I believe owns coal mines of considerable value.  I was always a favorite of his, and now that he is so sick he wants me to go out and be with him in the closing weeks of his life.”

“I suppose you will go?” said Andy, and he looked very sober.

“I think it is my duty—­don’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose it is your duty.”

Andy began to think what he should do.  He had had an easy and profitable engagement with Mr. Gale, but this would now be over, and he would have to go back to farm work, or try to get a place in the village store.

The latter would yield him only two dollars and a half a week, which seemed to him very small compared with what he now received.

“I shall miss you very much, Mr. Gale,” he said.

“I hope you will.  I shall certainly miss you.”

“It will seem very dull going to work on the farm after my pleasant days with you.”

“You won’t need to go to work on the farm, unless you choose to do so.”

“But I must earn something; I cannot be idle.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you what arrangements I propose to make for you.”

Andy looked up eagerly.

CHAPTER XII.