"Perhaps I will," said Abel, vaguely; "but I want to rest a while." When Gerald left the room he said: "Gerald treated me to some soda water." "Did he?" "Yes, and he took out a dollar bill to pay for it. Do you allow him much money?" "No; he won't have as much as you." "I should hope not. He's only your stepson." "I am quite aware of that, and so is he." "Does he attend the academy?" "He has been doing so; but I have decided to withdraw him and put him to work." "Where? In a shoe shop?" "No. Mr. Tubbs, a grocer in the village, has agreed to take him." "That's a good arrangement. He hasn't any money, and ought to work for a living like that Holman boy I met." "Did you meet John Holman?" "Yes. Who is he?" "His mother is one of my tenants; but if she doesn't pay a month's rent on Monday I shall turn her out." "That's right, mother. Business is business. I wish I were going to sleep in that large room to-night." "You shall go into it to-morrow." "I expect Gerald will make a fuss," chuckled Abel. "No doubt he will." "But you won't give in to him, will you, mother? You won't forget that I am to have the best of everything?" "Yes, my darling; I will see that you are well provided for," said Mrs. Lane, fondly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER VII A PLEBEIAN RELATIVE ON Sunday the family attended church. Many curious glances were fixed on the Lane's pew, and there was a general wonder who the new boy was. Abel was not at all troubled by this scrutiny, but held up his head and assumed airs of importance. "Who is that new boy, Gerald?" asked Harry Lovell. "It is Abel Tyler—Mrs. Lane's son." "I never knew she had a son." "Nor did I till lately." "Is he going to live here?" "I suppose so." "I don't think I shall like him." "Why not?" Gerald asked. "He looks disagreeable. Do you like him?" "I haven't made up my mind. He only came yesterday. We must give him a chance." Toward evening Mrs. Lane said: "Gerald, I am going to transfer you to the small room, and give your present room to Abel." Gerald had a good temper ordinarily, but his eyes flashed with indignation. "Why is this, Mrs. Lane?" he demanded. "I don't acknowledge your right to question or criticise my arrangements," said his stepmother, coldly. "Mrs. Lane, that room has always been mine. My father gave it to me when I was eight years old, and I have occupied it ever since. Abel is a stranger in the house. Why should my room be given to him?" "When your father was alive he made such arrangements as he chose for you. He is dead, and his authority has descended to me." "There is no justice in this change," said Gerald, bitterly, for he was attached to his chamber, and it was endeared to him by many associations.