“No more rough farming for me,” he said, on the morning when he was leaving for Andover, forgetting that he had never so much as hoed a row of potatoes or weeded a garden bed, let alone what he called rough farming. “I am going to have a good time after I am through college, and perhaps shall fix up the old house and spend a few weeks there in the summer with some high bloods, whose acquaintance I shall make. That will be a tony thing to do. Or, I may bring a wife there for the summer,—a rich one, if I have any; none of your poor country girls for me. I leave them to you. Maybe I shall fancy that Connie, What’s-her-name?—your father’s ward, you know. How much do you s’pose she’s worth?” He was sitting on the kitchen table, swinging his legs back and forth and watching Kenneth strapping his trunk by the door, and paying very little attention to him until Connie What’s-her-name was mentioned. Then Kenneth looked up quickly, and said: “Do you mean Connie Elliott? Why, she’s only a little girl, five or six years old, and you are nearly fifteen.” “Phoo! Nine years’ difference is nothing if you fancy the girl and she has the ready,” Harry replied. “Father was ten years older than mother. It’s the thing to do. But, halloo, there’s Sorrel and the buggy. I s’pose it’s time to go. Good-by, Ken. You are a good sort of fellow after all, and I shall miss you awfully. Good-by, Aunt Mary. You have always been nice to me. I’m sorry I have not been a better boy, more like Ken. Good-by.” There were tears in his dark eyes as he kissed his Aunt Mary and shook hands with Kenneth, both of whom, under the spell he cast over them, would have forgiven far more than they had to forgive in the handsome boy, who, as long as they could see him, stood up in the buggy and waved his hat and hands to them as they stood watching him in the door, and thinking, not of his faults, but how lonely they should he without him. In Kenneth’s heart there was no feeling of envy. It had always seemed right that the good things should come to Harry and the bad things, if there were any, should come to himself. This arose partly from his unselfishness, and partly because Harry claimed everything as his right. Kenneth would have liked Andover, but as it did not seem within his reach, he was content with the Millville Academy, where he soon became the most popular boy, as well as the first in his class. At the dancing-school, which he attended every Saturday afternoon, he did not succeed quite as well. His movements were a little clumsy, but he learned many things which he had heard Harry say were essential to the manners of a gentleman, and felt himself quite accomplished, though of course not equal to Hal, who always seemed to know the right thing to say and do. At first there were a few homesick letters from Hal, as he began to find his level and didn’t like it.