“I suppose you brought a trunk with you?” she questioned. “Yes, ma’am, and it ought to be here. The expressman said he would get it around by eight.” “Like as not it was Gus Tenney,” said Aunt Sarah. “If it was it won’t get here until afternoon, I guess. He’s the most worthless, shiftless negro in town.” But Aunt Sarah, for once, did the coloured gentleman an injustice, for even as she finished he backed his team up to the sidewalk. “You show him where to put it,” she instructed, “and tell him to be careful and not bump the walls. And don’t pay him a cent more than a quarter of a dollar, Joseph. Have you got any money?” “Yes, ma’am, thanks.” Aunt Sarah, who had begun to look around in a mildly distracted way for her purse, stopped and said “Hmph!” Then, “Well, don’t you give him more than a quarter, now!” Five minutes later Joe was unpacking his belongings and whistling quite merrily. After all, things weren’t so bad, he reflected. Aunt Sarah was cross-grained beyond a doubt, but she gave a fellow plenty to eat! “And good eats, too!” he murmured contentedly. CHAPTER II JOE LOOKS FOR WORK “Joseph Faulkner?” inquired Mr. Dennison, the high school principal. “Yes, sir.” “I’m very glad to meet you, Faulkner.” They shook hands and Mr. Dennison pulled a chair nearer the big, broad-topped desk. “Sit down, please. You wrote me a week or so ago from Akron, I believe, and enclosed a letter from your principal, Mr. Senter.” “Yes, sir.” “I have it here, I think.” Mr. Dennison searched for a moment in the file at his elbow and drew forth the two communications pinned together. He read Mr. Senter’s letter again and nodded. “I see,” he murmured. “Now tell me something about yourself, my boy. Your father has died recently?” “Yes, sir, in November.” “I’m very sorry. I think now I recall reading of his death in the paper. He was the editor of the _Enterprise_, I believe?” “Yes, sir. He owned the paper, too. That is, most of it.” “Your mother is alive, I trust?” “Yes, sir.” “And you have brothers and sisters?” “No, sir; there’s only me.” “I see. I rather expected your mother would call with you, Faulkner. It’s the customary thing. We rather like to meet the pupils’ parents and get in touch with them, so to speak. Possibly your mother, however, was not feeling well enough to accompany you this morning.” “She isn’t here, sir. She’s in Columbus. You see, father didn’t leave much money and so she――she took a position in Columbus and sent me here to live with an aunt, a Miss Teele, on Brewer Street. Mother wants me to finish high school. I thought I’d ought to go to work, but she wouldn’t let me.”