Steve’s mother had a son by her second husband, seven years old at this time--a child who, perhaps, would have been a good boy if he had been left to his mother’s care and training. But his father utterly spoiled him by giving him his desires and wishes unstinted, no matter at what sacrifice or how foolish those wishes were. If it was the most precious article belonging to his stepbrother or sisters, if he asked for it, he was to have it. Steve had long rebelled against this, especially on behalf of his sisters, but always to no effect. In fact, he made himself only the more hated by his stepfather. He did not dislike his little half-brother; he wished to treat and love him as his mother’s child, but the child’s father made this an impossibility for Steve, through his continual injustice. The result was that the boy was perfectly spoiled, and, whenever he saw his brother or sisters have anything new, he used to cry for it until his father made them give it up to him. One evening the whole family was sitting round the table, waiting for evening prayers, at which the mother always insisted that everyone should be present. Steve’s sister, Dora, had that day secured at school a pretty little picture book; she was sitting looking at this when her little stepbrother, who was sitting next to her, snatched at the book and tore a leaf. She, of course, pulled the book away from him, which made the spoiled child set up a fearful howling. His father got up and gave poor, innocent little Dora a severe slap on the cheek, which made the poor child turn blue from pain in a moment. Steve could not stand this. He was now sixteen years of age, and could not quietly see his little sister treated in such a cruel and unjust way. He rose, pale from anger, and, striking his fist on the table, which made the different articles thereon jump again, said in a voice hard and firm,-- ‘By God, if you strike my sister again in that way, I shall kill you. Do you hear?’ And his voice sounded and his expression looked so threatening, that the coward (all blusterers are cowards) felt awed and afraid. He had not the courage to brave Steve in his anger. He looked down and did not say a word more. CHAPTER IX FAVOURITE HEROES When Steve was fifteen years of age he was taken from school and placed in an office at a small--very small--salary.