“Oh, I don’t mean that you are not brave enough if there is any fighting to be done,” said she. “I’d trust you quickly enough for that, but I think you are very poor-spirited to be afraid to carry our bundles or be seen with any of us, just because those common boys that go to the Hastings School in Fordham chose to laugh at you for doing it. If you go on in this way, you won’t be the kind of man father was, or that Mr. Abbott is. Mr. Abbott is only too glad to do things for women, and father was just like him in that. And if you are not willing to do these little things for us now, I don’t believe you will take care of us when you grow up, so we may as well get accustomed to taking care of ourselves.” Peter’s face flushed. He recognized the truth of Victoria’s remarks, although he had no intention of acknowledging it. “See here,” said he, “I wish you’d stop! There is no one else in the world that I’d let say those things to me. If you were a fellow, I’d knock you down.” “Oh no, you wouldn’t,” said Victoria, laughing good-humoredly, “for the very good reason that I should be engaged in knocking you down! You think over that mushroom plan, Peter,” she continued, as she rose from the rock upon which she had been sitting. “I must go into the house now and see what there is to be done. Come along, Sophy, and tell me how school went to-day.” The sisters walked away together, leaving Peter to ruminate over Victoria’s remarks. He looked after them for a moment and then himself departed. He had suddenly determined to go to a certain florist who owned some large greenhouses in Fordham, and consult with him as to the best method of raising mushrooms. Perhaps it could be kept a secret from the boys at school. At any rate, the subject was worth considering. He walked over to the village and took an electric car, which carried him in a short time almost to his destination, although it was a distance of some miles. Upon leaving the car, he had a walk of several blocks, and his way was through the most crowded street of Fordham,—the main street, in fact, upon which were most of the shops, and which at this hour of the afternoon, when the trains arrived at short intervals from Boston, was well filled with people. Peter walked along, paying little attention to the passers-by, as his mind reviewed the late conversation with Victoria, when he was attracted by some squirrels in a cage. The cage was standing upon a barrel outside of a provision store. The store was on a corner, and the squirrels were on the side street, which was a small one. They were skipping about in the revolving cage, engaged in an ever-failing attempt to make progress, and compelled to pursue their ceaseless round of futile activity. Peter, as he watched them, wished that he could set them free. He wondered how much the provision dealer would sell them for. Then he remembered that there was little enough money to spare, and none with which to free squirrels.