"What does he know? He's going to school next week, and I'll bet he can't tell you what he wants for books." "I'll ask him," said Barker. "Come here, Tommy, won't you?" Tommy approached him without any hesitation, and showed none of that fear which he exhibited when spoken to by his stepfather. "How much money do you want for school books, Tom?" asked Barker. "None at all," replied Tommy. "Why not?" "I don't like skule," said Tommy, with his hands behind his back. "But you've got to go, and what will it cost?" "About four dollars, sir." "How's that?" demanded Mr. Smithers, sharply. "I bought Harold Stamford's books yesterday, and they didn't come to that. Name the books." "Lemme see," answered Tommy. "Singin' book, 'rithmetic, jography." "Well," said his stepfather, "the first is sixty cents, the second seventy-five, the third a dollar and twenty. I insist upon knowing how you make it out." He took up the cane which stood in the corner and held it up threateningly. "Don't hit me and I'll tell you," replied Tommy. "There's half a dollar for a new bat, a dollar for a pair of skates and a quarter for candy." Mr. Barker burst out laughing. "I tell you he's smart," he exclaimed, "and you can't punish him for telling the truth." "I won't this time," replied Mr. Smithers. "Yet I don't half like this sort of thing. Go an' give the horse his supper, Tom." "Yes, sir," replied Tommy. He hurried off as if he was glad to get away. CHAPTER II. HOW SMITHERS FOUND CONSOLATION. While Tommy was gone Mrs. Smithers came up and laid the table, for although her husband was high-toned, he did not choose to keep a servant. In ten minutes Tommy came back. "Did you feed the horse?" asked Mr. Smithers. "I gave him the supper," replied Tommy; "but he wouldn't touch it." "That's strange," remarked Smithers. "I think that plug of yours is ailing," said Barker, "and it's a wonder to me why you keep him." "Well, you see," replied Smithers, "I got him cheap, and having a good barn at the back, I thought he'd be handy to take to the ferry, and to go out with Sundays and holidays." "That's so." "Tommy," said Smithers, "what did you give him?" The boy was about to answer when Mrs. Smithers rushed into the room. "Where's the oysters?" she almost screamed. "How should I know?" replied her husband. "Didn't I give them to you to cook?" "You did, and I roasted them beautifully, took the top shells off, and left them on the stove in a big dish, while I went upstairs to tidy up." Mr. Smithers bent a severe glance on Tommy. "What did you give the horse?" he asked. "The supper," replied Tommy. "What?" "The oysters. Thought that was what you meant." Mrs. Smithers clasped her hands together, and uttered a cry. "Do horses eat oysters?" demanded Smithers, furiously. "How could I tell?" answered Tommy. "I've heard of donkeys eating thistles." "What would you like to eat, you donkey?" "A mild tongue," said Tommy. "How do you mean, you idiot?"