“I hope I shall not disappoint you, Mr. Huet.” “Well, Robert, I will bid you good night and God bless you! We don’t know what lies before us, but if you succeed, I will take care that your career shall be a fortunate one.” Robert walked slowly back to his humble home, almost wishing that the night were over and his journey actually begun. There was but one way out of Cook’s Harbor--that is, by land. A stage left the village every morning for Kaneville, six miles distant, a small station on a road which terminated many miles away in Boston. The stage started at seven o’clock, so Robert was forced to get up betimes, take an early breakfast and walk up to the tavern. Mr. Jones, the landlord, was standing on the piazza when Robert made his appearance. He had no proprietary right in the stage line, but the driver generally stopped overnight at the tavern and the horses were kept in his stable, so that he had come to assume a certain air of proprietorship. As Robert was climbing up to take a seat by the driver Mr. Jones, with a frown, called out: “Look here, you young rascal, come right down!” “Why am I to come down, Mr. Jones?” said Robert independently. “Because I tell you to. We can’t have any boys stealing rides.” “Is this stage yours?” asked Robert, surveying the landlord with provoking coolness. “No matter whether it is or not,” retorted Jones, red in the face. “I tell you to come down. Do you hear?” “Yes, I hear.” “Then you’d better come down double quick or I’ll give you a taste of a horsewhip.” “I advise you to mind your own business, Mr. Jones,” said Robert hotly, “and not interfere with the passengers by this stage.” “You’re not a passenger, you young beggar!” “I am a passenger--and now you’d better stop talking.” “Have you got money to pay your fare?” asked the landlord, beginning to suspect he had made a fool of himself. “When the driver calls for the fare it will be time enough to tell.” “Luke,” said Mr. Jones to the driver, “you’d better take that boy’s fare now. He wants to swindle you out of a ride.” “You may take it out of this,” said Robert, tendering a five-dollar bill. “I guess we’ll let it stand till we get to Kaneville,” said Luke, gathering up the reins. Robert darted a glance of triumph at the discomfited and bewildered landlord, and his journey was begun. The latter, on Luke’s return, learned to his further surprise that Robert had gone to Boston. On reflection, he concluded that Mrs. Trafton must have some relatives in the city from whom they hoped to borrow enough money to raise the mortgage. “But he won’t succeed, and in four weeks I shall turn him and his aunt out of doors,” Mr. Jones complacently reflected. CHAPTER XXIII AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE When Robert arrived in Boston he was at first bewildered by the noise and bustle to which, in the quiet fishing village, he was quite unaccustomed. All that he knew about the city was the names of the principal streets.