“Yes; no doubt he will,” said Mr. Holden, laughing.  “He will think of you whenever he has a bad cold.”

Nobody even smiled at this witty sally, and, Mr. Holden, a little disappointed, remarked:  “Well, time’s getting on.  I guess we must be going, as we have a long journey before us.”

The whole family accompanied Herbert to the road.  After kissing Mary and Mrs. Kent, and shaking the doctor cordially by the hand, Herbert jumped into the wagon.  Just before the horse started the doctor handed our hero a sealed envelope, saying, “You can open it after a while.”

Though, like most boys of his age, Herbert had a great horror of making a baby of himself, he could hardly help crying as he rode up the street, and felt that he had parted from his best friends.  His eyes filled with tears, which he quietly wiped away with the corner of his handkerchief.

“Come, come, don’t blubber, boy,” said Mr. Holden, coarsely.

Herbert was not weak enough to melt into tears at an unkind word.  It roused his indignation, and he answered, shortly, “When you see me blubbering, it’ll be time enough to speak, Mr. Holden.”

“It looked a good deal like it, at any rate,” said Abner.  “However, I’m glad if I’m mistaken.  There’s nothing to cry about that I can see.”

“No, perhaps not,” said Herbert; “but there’s something to be sorry for.”

“Something to be sorry for, is there?” said Abner Holden.

“Yes.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I’ve left my best friends, and I don’t know when I shall see them again.”

“Nor I,” said Mr. Holden.  “But I think it’s high time you left them.”

“Why?” asked Herbert, indignantly.

“Because they were petting you and making too much of you.  You won’t get such treatment as that from me.”

“I don’t expect it,” said our hero.

“That’s lucky,” said Abner Holden, dryly.  “It’s well that people shouldn’t expect what they are not likely to get.”

Here a sense of the ludicrous came over Herbert as he thought of being Mr. Holden’s pet, and he laughed heartily.  Not understanding the reason of his sudden mirth, that gentleman demanded, in a tone of irritation, “What are you making a fool of yourself about?”

“What am I laughing at?” said Herbert, not liking the form of the question.

“Yes,” snarled Abner.

“The idea of being your pet,” explained Herbert, frankly.

Mr. Holden did not appreciate the joke, and said roughly, “You better shut up, if you know what’s best for yourself.”

They rode along in silence for a few minutes.  Then Abner Holden, thinking suddenly of the envelope which Dr. Kent had placed in Herbert’s hand at parting, and feeling curious as to its contents, asked: 

“What did the doctor give you just as you were starting?”

“It was an envelope.”

“I know that; but what was there in it?”