"And why did you study, mother, dear?" "I had a strong incentive; I studied because I loved you." Bolax pressed close to his mother's side. "Oh, Ma, dear! I will study too because I love you." When Mr. Allen returned in the evening, Bo went to the gate to meet him, and threw his arms around his father's neck, asking to be forgiven and promising to be a good boy in the future. Mr. Allen clasped the dear child to his heart wondering if he had made a mistake in his manner of chastising a boy with such a loving disposition. That night the good mother told of Bo's desire to change schools. "That's just what I intended proposing; I had a conversation with old Mathews, who has brought up seven sons. He thinks from what I told him of our son, a change would be just what he requires at present." A few days after this, Mrs. Allen took Bo up to the College and begged the President to admit him. "He is entirely below the age, Madame," remarked the President, "we have no pupils under twelve years of age;" however, he allowed himself to be persuaded and acceded to the lady's request on condition that the boy should have a special tutor, which would cost an extra fee. To this Mrs. Allen gladly agreed, as the child wanted three months of being ten years old and a private teacher was just what he needed. Bo was delighted to go up to St. Thomas', especially as it meant daily rides on the train. CHAPTER VIII. THE COAL MAN. Whistling and with a roll of music under his arm, Bolax turned out of his way to go the woods. "It's Saturday," thought he, "and Professor was pleased with my lesson, so I'll just take a holiday." As he was turning off the bridge he heard some one say: "Well, young man, where are you bound for?" Looking up he saw Mr. O'Donnel, the coal man. "Where are you taking such a big load?" said Bolax. "Oh, about three miles out on the White Road." "That's the most beautiful road in the country; please let me go with you." "You seem to know a great deal about roads." "Oh, yes; I often take long rambles with Papa when he is at home; he is so fond of wild flowers. So is Mamma; she calls the woods 'God's own garden,' and while there is a wild flower to be had, from the arbutus and hepatica in early Spring to the golden rod in the autumn, we gather them for our little Chapel. My Papa knows the name of every flower and shrub and tree that grows in the United States, and never tires telling me about them." "Well," said Mr. O'Donnel, "I'll let you come along with me if you can climb up; you're a mighty knowing sort of little chap, and I like to hear you talk." The day was an ideal one. A clear sky, a bright October sun and a pleasant breeze all combined to make Bolax enjoy his drive, although one would suppose he felt anything but comfortable perched on the hard seat of a coal cart.