“How are you, father?” he said, nonchalantly, taking a cigar from his mouth.  “Didn’t expect to see me, did you?”

“What brings you here, Eben?” asked Mr. Graham, uneasily.

“Well, the cars brought me to Stockton, and I’ve walked the rest of the way.”

“I’ve heard of you,” said his father, frowning.  “I got a letter last night from Mrs. Jones.”

“She said she was going to write,” said Eben, shrugging his shoulders.

“How came it,” said his father, his voice trembling with anger, “that you haven’t paid your board bill for six weeks?”

“I didn’t have the money,” said Eben, with a composure which was positively aggravating to his father.

“And why didn’t you have the money?  Your wages are ample to pay all your expenses.”

“It costs more money to live in Boston than you think for, father.”

“Don’t you get ten dollars a week, sir?  At your age I got only seven, and saved two dollars a week.”

“You didn’t live in Boston, father.”

“I didn’t smoke cigars,” said his father, angrily, as he fixed his eye on the one his son was smoking.  “How much did you pay for that miserable weed?”

“You’re mistaken, father.  It’s a very good article.  I paid eight dollars a hundred.”

“Eight dollars a hundred!” gasped Mr. Graham.  “No wonder you can’t pay your board bill—­I can’t afford to spend my money on cigars.”

“Oh, yes, you can, father, if you choose.  Why, you’re a rich man.”

“A rich man!” repeated Mr. Graham, nervously.  “It would take a rich man to pay your bills.  But you haven’t told me why you have come home.”

“I lost my situation, father—­some meddlesome fellow told my employer that I occasionally played a game of pool, and my tailor came to the store and dunned me; so old Boggs gave me a long lecture and my walking papers, and here I am.”

Ebenezer Graham was sorely troubled, and, though he isn’t a favorite of mine, I confess, that in this matter he has my sincere sympathy.

CHAPTER IV.

Herbert loses his place.

Ebenezer Graham with some difficulty ascertained from Eben that he had other bills, amounting in the aggregate to forty-seven dollars.  This added to the board bill, made a total of seventy-seven dollars.  Mr. Graham’s face elongated perceptibly.

“That is bad enough,” he said; “but you have lost your income also, and that makes matters worse.  Isn’t there a chance of the firm taking you back?”

“No, sir,” replied the prodigal.  “You see, we had a flare up, and I expressed my opinion of them pretty plainly.  They wouldn’t take me back if I’d come for nothing.”

“And they won’t give you a recommendation, either?” said Ebenezer, with a half groan.

“No, sir; I should say not.”

“So you have ruined your prospects so far as Boston is concerned,” said his father, bitterly.  “May I ask how you expect to get along?”