"Kit," said his uncle, clearing his throat, "in your circumstances I have thought it desirable that you should learn a trade, and have spoken to Mr. Bickford about taking you as an apprentice." "In what business?" asked Kit. "I'm a blacksmith," said Mr. Bickford, taking it upon himself to reply, "and it's a good, healthy business as any you'd want to follow." "I have no doubt of it," said Kit, quietly, "but I don't think I should like it all the same. Uncle Stephen, how does it happen that you have selected such a business for me?" "I heard that Mr. Bickford needed an apprentice, and I have arranged matters with him to take you, and teach you his trade." "Yes," put in Mr. Bickford, "I've agreed to give you your board and a dollar a week the first year. That's more than I got when I was 'prentice. My old master only paid me fifty cents a week." Kit turned to his uncle. "Do you think my education has fitted me for a blacksmith's trade?" he asked. "It won't interfere," replied Mr. Watson, a little uneasily. "Wouldn't it have been well to consult me in the matter? It seems to me I am rather interested." "Oh, I supposed you would object, as you had been looking forward to being a gentleman, but I can't afford to keep you in idleness any longer, and so have arranged matters with Mr. Bickford." "Suppose I object to going with him?" said Kit, calmly. "Then I shall overrule your objections, and compel you to do what I think is for your good." Kit's eye flashed with transient anger, but as he had no idea of acceding to his uncle's order, he did not allow himself to become unduly excited. Indeed he had a plan, which made temporary submission a matter of policy. "What's the boy's name?" asked Aaron Bickford. "I am generally called Kit. My right name is Christopher." "Then, Kit, you'd better be getting your traps together, for I can't stop long away from the shop." "I have arranged to have you go back with Mr. Bickford to-day," said Stephen Watson. "That's rather short notice, isn't it?" Kit rejoined. "The sooner the matter is arranged, the better!" answered his uncle. "Very well," said Kit, with unexpected submission. "I'll go and pack up my clothes." Mr. Watson looked relieved. He had expected to have more trouble with his nephew. In twenty minutes Kit reappeared with his school valise. He had packed up a supply of shirts, socks, handkerchiefs, and underclothing. "I am all ready," he said. "Then we'll be going," said the blacksmith, rising with alacrity. Kit took his place on the seat beside Mr. Bickford. "Good-by, uncle!" he said; "it may be some time before we meet again." "What does the boy mean?" asked Stephen Watson, turning to Ralph with a puzzled look. "I don't know. He's been acting queer all the morning." So Kit rode away with Aaron Bickford, but he had not the slightest intention of becoming blacksmith. Instead of blacksmith's forges, visions of a circus ring and acrobatic feats were dancing before his mind.