"No," and the boy's voice trembled now in spite of himself; "I don't s'pose I ever did. Me an' Shiner have been livin' round this way ever since we can remember, an' I reckon we always lived so. We used to sleep 'round anywhere till Dickey Spry got a chance to run a stand over'n Jersey City, an' then he sold us this place for fifty cents, an' I tell you we've fatted right up ever since we had it." The conversation was taking such a sorrowful turn that Johnny's entrance just then was very welcome. Paul stood very much in need of some cheerful company, to prevent the great lump that was growing in his throat from getting the best of him. "Well, you are goin' it strong!" exclaimed Johnny, as he closed the door, by pulling one portion of their house against the other. "Why this is 'bout as good as a 'lectric light, ain't it? I tell you we shall be jest as snug as mice when winter comes, for this candle makes the place so warm." Johnny's idea of the heat from one candle could not be a correct one, if he thought that their house would be as warm in January from it as it was then in August. But January was so far away that no one thought of starting an argument on the subject. Ben brought forward the dainties he had bought, and although Shiner's eyes did not stick out as far as he had said, there was enough of a pleasant surprise in his face to satisfy Ben for the outlay he had made. "Now this is what I call livin' high," said Johnny, in a choking voice, as he tried to eat pea-nuts, bologna sausage, and crackers, all at the same time. "Seems like we'd had a reg'lar streak of luck ever since we bought this house, don't it?" "It was a good trade, that's what it was, an' it's lucky for Polly that we had it, or he'd found out the difference in huntin' round for a place to sleep." Poor Paul! he was doing his best to eat the portion of the feast that had been set aside as his, but, hungry as he had been, he found it difficult to swallow because of the lump in his throat, that kept growing larger and larger every moment, and which seemed to be doing its best to force the tears from his eyes. He thought of his parents and his sister, who were probably going farther away from him each moment, grieving quite as much, if not more, because of his absence than he did himself; and when he realized that he might never see them again, the tears would roll from beneath his eyelids. But he brushed them away very quickly, as if ashamed to have his companions see them, honest though they were. Then, as Ben and Johnny began to talk of their business, leaving him alone, as it seemed, the tears came faster and faster, until he could no longer wipe them away, and putting back into the paper the cracker he was trying to eat, he threw himself upon the straw, crying as if his heart would break.