And having exhausted that edifying subject for the moment, he presently began to brag of his plans and prospects. "I don't believe you stand much of a chance there; they say Luke Conway is awful particular," the middle-aged stranger heard John remark. "Pooh! shut up!" cried Albert. "Particular! That's just it, and makes my chance all the better. I've brought the kind of recommendation that a particular man wants, you see." "But there'll be lots of other fellows trying for the place." "Don't care if there's fifty," said Albert, "I'd come in ahead of 'em all. I've got testimonials of character and qualifications from Professor Howe, Rev. Joseph Lee, Dr. Henshaw, and Esquire Jenks, the great railroad contractor. His name alone is enough to secure me the situation." At this juncture, the strange gentleman turned around and gave Albert a quick, searching glance. But the conceited boy was too much occupied with himself to notice the movement, and kept on talking. Now and then the thought of the victim whom he had fooled seemed to come back and tickle him amazingly. "Wonder where the old man is now. Ha, ha! Do you suppose he has found out where Harrowtown is? Oh, but wasn't it rich to see how scared he was when I waked him up? And how he jumped and scrambled out of the car! 'Pon my word, I never saw anything so comical." Here the stranger turned again and shot another quick glance, this time from indignant eyes, and his lips parted as if about to utter a stern reproof. But he did not speak. Some hidden motive withheld him. We will now leave Albert and his fellow travelers, and follow good Gideon Randal. It was quite dark when he stepped from the cars, and he inquired of a man at the station, "Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Aaron Harrington?" "There's no such man living here, to my knowledge," was the reply. "What, isn't this Harrowtown?" asked Mr. Randal in great consternation. "No, it is Whipple Village." "Then I got out at the wrong station. What shall I do?" in a voice of deep distress. "Go right to the hotel and stay till the train goes in the morning," said the man, pleasantly. There was no alternative, Mr. Randal passed a restless night at the hotel, and at an early hour he was again at the station, waiting for the train. His face was pale, and his eye wild and anxious. "The stage broke down, and I missed the first train," thought he, "and then that boy told me to get out here. I've made a bad beginning, and I'm afraid this trip will have a bad ending." There were other passengers walking to and fro on the platform, waiting for the cars to come. One was a plain-featured, honest-looking boy, who had been accompanied to the station by his mother. Just before his mother bade him good by, she said, "Lyman, look at that pale, sad, old man. I don't believe he is used to traveling. Perhaps you can help him along." Soon a loud, prolonged whistle was heard. The cars were coming.