“Now, young man,” said Fox, in a tone of authority, “go up to your chamber, and stay there till you’re ready to obey orders.” Harry hesitated a moment, then quietly went upstairs. Mr. Fox was relieved, for he was a little apprehensive that his ward would prove rebellious and decline to obey. John Fox stole up after his ward, and Harry heard the door bolted on the outside. He was a prisoner. When he heard the bolt slide in the lock, he said to himself: “Mr. Fox and I can never agree. He has not yet been appointed my guardian, and he never will receive the appointment. I have the right to choose for myself, as Mr. Howard told me, and I mean to exercise it.” Some of my readers may, perhaps, picture Harry as forcing open the door of his chamber and rushing from the house, breathing loud defiance as he went. But he was a sensible boy, and meditated nothing of the kind. “I can wait till morning,” he reflected. “I don’t think I shall be here twenty hours hence, but I mean to get a good night’s sleep. It will be time enough to decide in the morning what I will do.” So, in spite of his imprisonment, Harry enjoyed a comfortable night’s sleep, and was awakened in the morning by hearing his door opened. Mr. Fox entered, and sat down on a chair by the bed. “Good-morning, sir,” said Harry, composedly. “What I want to know is, have you made up your mind to do as I told you last night?” “I prefer to keep it in my possession.” “I guess I’ll have to keep you here a little longer.” “Then be kind enough to send me up some breakfast. I am paying my board. I shall object to paying unless I get my meals regularly.” This consideration weighed with John Fox, and he sent Joel up with a cup of coffee and some dry bread, five minutes later. “By the way, Joel, come up here about the middle of the forenoon; I want to say a few words to you in private.” “All right, I’ll come. I must go downstairs now.” “I wonder what he wants to see me about?” said Joel, to himself. Joel made a pretty shrewd guess, and resolved, by all means, to keep the appointment. He was anxious to get his father out of the way, but John Fox was unusually deliberate in his motions. Finally, about half-past nine, he left the house for the village. Presently his mother said: “Joel, if you’ll stay and mind the house, I’ll run over to Mrs. Bean’s and borrow some sugar.” His mother put on her bonnet, and started across a field to her nearest neighbor’s. “Now’s my time,” thought Joel. “Mam’s sure to get talkin’ with Mrs. Bean and stay half an hour or more.” He ran up the garret stairs, and drew the bolt that held Harry captive. “Joel, I want you to let me out of this place.” “Oh, gracious!” exclaimed Joel, in apparent dismay. “Dad would give me the wu’st kind of a lickin’.” “Would he know how I got out?” asked Harry. “I don’t know. What are you willing to give?”