The ticket arrived two days later; Eben took care to slip the envelope into his pocket without letting his father or anyone else see it, for unpleasant questions might have been asked as to where he got the money that paid for it, Mr. Graham knowing very well that his son had not five dollars by him. For a few days Eben must remain in Wayneboro, until the lottery was drawn. If he was unlucky, he would have to consider some other plan for raising money to get away from Wayneboro. It was not till the day after the trial and his triumphant acquittal, that Herbert saw Eben. He came to the store to buy some groceries for his mother. “Good-evening, Herbert,” said Eben. “Eben,” said Herbert, coldly, “except in the way of business, I don't want to speak to you.” “You don't bear malice on account of that little affair, do you, Herbert?” said Eben, smoothly. “That little affair, as you call it, might have been a very serious affair to me.” “I only did my duty,” said Eben. “Was it your duty to charge an innocent person with theft?” “I didn't see who else could have taken the things,” said Eben. “Probably you know as well as anybody,” said Herbert, contemptuously. “What do you mean?” demanded Eben, coloring. “You know better than I do. How much do I owe you?” “Thirty-three cents.” “There is your money,” said Herbert, and walked out of the store. “I hate that boy!” said Eben, scowling at Herbert's retreating figure. “He puts on too many airs, just because a city man's taken him in charity and is paying his expenses. Some time I'll be able to come up with him, I hope.” Herbert was not of an unforgiving nature, but he felt that Eben had wronged him deeply, and saw no reason why he would not repeat the injury if he ever got the chance. He had at least a partial understanding of Eben's mean nature and utter selfishness, and felt that he wished to have nothing to do with him. Ebenezer Graham was very “close,” but he was a hard-working man and honest as the world goes. He was tolerably respected in Wayneboro, though not popular, but Eben seemed on the high road to become a rascal. A week slipped by, and a circular containing the list of prizes drawn was sent to Eben. He ran his eyes over it in a flutter of excitement. Alas! for his hopes. In the list of lucky numbers the number on his ticket was not included. “I have drawn a blank! Curse the luck!” he muttered, savagely. “The old man needn't think I am going to stay here in Wayneboro. If he won't give me money to go out West, why, then--” But he did not say what then. CHAPTER XIV. A TRIP TO BOSTON. “To-morrow, Herbert,” said George Melville, as they parted for the day, “I shall propose a new excursion to you.” Herbert regarded him inquiringly. “I want to go to Boston to make a few purchases, but principally to consult my physician.”