Of all this busy life and its varied interests Peter's family knew nothing. His father and mother had gone for a month's trip to the Catskills and there was no one but the servants at home to tell his troubles to had he wished to unburden his worries. So he plodded bravely on alone. How glad he was that the beamhouse was left behind, and that during those warm September days he could work in a large, well-ventilated room where there was fresher air. Perhaps, however, he grew a little thin under his unaccustomed load of anxiety, for when his father and mother returned from their vacation Peter was conscious more than once of his father's fixed gaze, and one evening when the boy was going to bed there was a knock at the door and Mr. Coddington entered the room. For a few seconds he roamed uneasily about, straightening a picture here and an ornament there; then he said abruptly: "Well, Peter--the summer is almost over. Here it is nearly the middle of September! I fancy the weeks have gone pretty slowly with your friend Strong. What do you say to quitting the tannery and going back to school?" Peter's breath almost stopped. He had not dreamed of leaving his work. Such a myriad of thoughts arose at the bare suggestion that he could not answer. Mr. Coddington misunderstood his silence. "Of course you are astonished, my boy, and not a little glad, I imagine. When I sent you to the tannery, however, I did not intend to keep you there permanently. I simply wanted to wake you up to doing something and make you prove the stuff you were made of. You have done that and more too. I have heard nothing but the best reports, and I am proud of you, Peter. The tannery has served its purpose for the present. Suppose we leave it now for a while." Still Peter did not speak. "Perhaps you are disappointed to stop short of earning money enough for your motorcycle," suggested Mr. Coddington, puzzled by the lad's silence. "Is that it? Tell me now, how much would you need to put with what you have already saved? Do you recall the sum you have in the bank?" "I haven't any money in the bank, Father," was Peter's unwilling reply. "What! Not a cent?" Peter shook his head. "Have you drawn it out and spent it all?" "Yes, sir." "I'm sorry to hear that--sorry, and a little disappointed. However, we mustn't expect too much of you. Come now, what do you say to my proposition of returning to school?" "I can't do it, sir." "What!" "I'm afraid you can't quite understand, sir. You see Peter Coddington would like to go back, but Peter Strong won't let him. Peter Strong must stay at the tannery, Father. He can't leave. There are reasons why it isn't possible," Peter blurted out incoherently. "What reasons?" demanded his father. "You've not been getting into trouble, Peter?" "No, sir." Mr. Coddington looked baffled--baffled, and displeased.