"He's only a little fresh, sir; there's good stuff in him." "And then, John, there's a boy who's been under early disadvantages, but a bright boy, full of energy, good mind, but needs to be taken in hand, with a little kindness." "Who, sir?" "Bellefont." "Bellefont!" said Stover, exploding. "I beg your pardon, sir. You're wrong there. That kid is hopeless. Nothing will do him any good. He's a perfect little nuisance. He's a thoroughgoing, out-and-out little varmint!" The Roman tapped the table and, looking far out through the darkened window, smiled the gentle smile of one who has watched the ever-recurrent miracle of humanity, the struggling birth of the man out of the dirtied, hopeless cocoon of the boy. And Stover, suddenly beholding that smile, all at once stopped, blushed and understood! THE END End of Project Gutenberg's The Varmint, by Owen Johnson and F. R. Gruger