Herbert was not of an unforgiving nature, but he felt that Eben had wronged him deeply, and saw no reason why he would not repeat the injury if he ever got the chance.  He had at least a partial understanding of Eben’s mean nature and utter selfishness, and felt that he wished to have nothing to do with him.  Ebenezer Graham was very “close,” but he was a hard-working man and honest as the world goes.  He was tolerably respected in Wayneboro, though not popular, but Eben seemed on the high road to become a rascal.

A week slipped by, and a circular containing the list of prizes drawn was sent to Eben.

He ran his eyes over it in a flutter of excitement.  Alas! for his hopes.  In the list of lucky numbers the number on his ticket was not included.

“I have drawn a blank!  Curse the luck!” he muttered, savagely.  “The old man needn’t think I am going to stay here in Wayneboro.  If he won’t give me money to go out West, why, then—­”

But he did not say what then.

CHAPTER XIV.

A trip to Boston.

“To-morrow, Herbert,” said George Melville, as they parted for the day, “I shall propose a new excursion to you.”

Herbert regarded him inquiringly.

“I want to go to Boston to make a few purchases, but principally to consult my physician.”

“I hope you are not feeling any worse, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, with genuine concern, for he had come to feel a regard for his employer, who was always kind and considerate to him.

“No, I am feeling as well as usual; but I wish to consult Dr. Davies about the coming winter—­whether he would advise me to spend it in Massachusetts.”

“If Mr. Melville goes away, I shall have to look for another place,” thought Herbert, soberly.  It was hardly likely, he knew, that he would obtain a position so desirable as the one he now filled.

“I hope he will be able to do so, Mr. Melville,” he said, earnestly.

“I hope so; but I shall not be surprised if the doctor ordered me away.”

“Then you won’t want me to come to-morrow?”

“Certainly, unless you object to going to Boston with me.”

“Object?” repeated Herbert, eagerly.  “I should like nothing better.”

In fact, our hero, though a well-grown boy of sixteen, had never been to Boston but three times, and the trip, commonplace as it may seem to my traveled young readers, promised him a large amount of novelty and pleasurable excitement.

“I shall be glad of your company, Herbert.  I hardly feel the strength or enterprise to travel alone, even for so trifling a trip as going to Boston.”

“At what hour will you go, Mr. Melville?”

“I will take the second train, at nine o’clock.  It will afford me time enough, and save my getting up before my usual time.”

Herbert would have preferred going by the first train, starting at half-past seven, as it would have given him a longer day in the city, but of course he felt that his employer had decided wisely.