“Almost Luke’s age.  He thinks Luke beneath him, though why he should do so, except that Luke is poor, I can’t understand.  Not long since there was a skating match for a prize of a Waterbury watch, offered by the grammar-school teacher, which Luke would have won had not Randolph arranged with another boy to get in his way and leave the victory to him.”

“So Randolph won the watch?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose he had a watch of his own already.”

“Yes, a silver one, while Luke had none.  This makes it meaner in him.”

“I don’t mind it now, mother,” said Luke, who had overheard the last part of the conversation.  “He is welcome to his watches—­I can wait.”

“Has Squire Duncan shown his hostility to Luke in any other way?” inquired the stranger.

“Yes; Luke has for over a year been janitor at the school-house.  It didn’t bring much—­only a dollar a week—­but it was considerable to us.  Lately Squire Duncan was appointed on the school committee to fill a vacancy, and his first act was to remove Luke from his position.”

“Not in favor of his son, I conclude.”

Luke laughed.

“Randolph would be shocked at the mere supposition,” he said.  “He is a young man who wears kid gloves, and the duties of a school janitor he would look upon as degrading.”

“I really think, Luke, you have been badly treated,” said Roland Reed, with a friendly smile.

“I have thought so, too, sir, but I suppose I have no better claim to the office than any other boy.”

“You needed the income, however.”

“Yes, sir.”

By this time they were at the door of the cottage.

“Won’t you come in, sir?” asked Mrs. Larkin, cordially.

“Thank you.  I will not only do so, but as I don’t care to stay at the hotel, I will even crave leave to pass the night under your roof.”

“If you don’t mind our poor accommodations, you will be very welcome.”

“I am not likely to complain, Mrs. Larkin.  I have not been nursed in the lap of luxury.  For two years I was a California miner, and camped out.  For that long period I did not know what it was to sleep in a bed.  I used to stretch myself in a blanket, and lie down on the ground.”

“You won’t have to do that here, Mr. Reed,” said Luke, smiling.  “But it must have been great fun.”

“How can you say so, Luke?” expostulated his mother.  “It must have been very uncomfortable, and dangerous to the health.”

“I wouldn’t mind it a bit, mother,” said Luke, stoutly.

Roland Reed smiled.

“I am not surprised that you and your mother regard the matter from different points of view,” he said.  “It is only natural.  Women are not adapted to roughing it.  Boys like nothing better, and so with young men.  But there comes a time—­when a man passes forty—­when he sets a higher value on the comforts of life.  I don’t mind confessing that I wouldn’t care to repeat my old mining experiences.”