“Land sakes, you needn’t be so proud, Joseph Faulkner! I guess I’m your mother’s own half-sister, ain’t I? And if that doesn’t give me the right to buy a pair of overshoes for you――Hmph! I never heard such foolishness. You take those wet shoes off directly and I’ll bring you up a cup of ginger-tea. Fine thing it would be to have you sick on my hands the very first week you’re here!” Joe went up, smiling to himself, and obeyed directions. Only, when Aunt Sarah passed a steaming cup of ginger-tea in to him he didn’t play quite fair. He gave it a trial, to be sure, but he didn’t like it, and if Aunt Sarah had been listening she might have heard one of the guest room windows cautiously raised. Let us hope that the ginger-tea had no ill effects on Aunt Sarah’s shrubs! Damp feet did not affect Joe’s appetite, and, watching him eat, Aunt Sarah dared hope that he was not in for a serious illness! By Saturday he had settled down into his new life. He was relieved to find that the few weeks away from school had not put him far behind and during that first week he proved to his own and Mr. Dennison’s satisfaction that he really belonged in the junior class. He found much to like about the school. For one thing, the building, which was fairly new, was quite a model school structure, with big, broad rooms lighted by an almost continuous row of high windows through which the sunlight fairly streamed. Sunlight in classrooms makes for cheerfulness, and cheerfulness for better work, and better work for more cheerfulness! That, at least, was the way Joe summed it up. The fellows seemed an average lot, some nice, some rather objectionable, some neither one thing nor the other. The same was probably true also of the girls, but Joe, having no sisters of his own, was shy of girls and didn’t attempt to decide as to whether they were nice or otherwise. At home he and Aunt Sarah settled down into a very pleasant companionship. Although her voice remained as acid as ever, it was evident to Joe that she was prepared to be fond of him, and that, used as he was to affection, was sufficient to make him fond of her. She was sometimes fussily anxious about him, but she didn’t try to govern his movements, and that he appreciated. Aunt Sarah’s bark, he soon decided, was far worse than her bite. The newspaper route occupied his afternoons between school and supper――which was more like dinner, since he had only a light lunch in the middle of the day――and required no great effort. On Monday he collected two dollars and a half for the five days he had worked and handed the amount over to Aunt Sarah. His board and lodging was, he learned, to cost three dollars a week.