"I shall do nothing. If the boy chooses to make a fool of himself, he may try it. Next fall, and possibly before, he'll be coming back in rags, and beg me to take him back." "I hope you won't take him back," said Ralph, who was jealous of Kit. "I shall not consider myself bound to do so, but if he consents to obey me, and learn a trade of Mr. Bickford, I will fit him, up and enable him to do so--out of charity, and because he is my nephew." "Then you don't mean to do anything about it, sir?" asked Aaron Bickford, considerably disappointed, for he longed to get Kit into his power once more. "No, I will leave the boy to himself. Ralph, as our business seems to be over, we will turn about and go home." Mr. Watson drove out of the blacksmith's yard. "Well, Ralph," he said, as they were on their way home, "I am very much annoyed at what your cousin has done, but I don't see that I am to blame." "Of course you're not, pa," returned Ralph, promptly. "Still the public may misjudge me. It will be very awkward to answer questions about Kit. I really don't know what to say." "Say he's run away and joined the circus. We might as well tell the truth." "I don't know but it will be best. I will add that, though it grieves me, I think it advisable, as he is so old, not to interfere with him, but let him see the error of his way for himself. I will say also that when he chooses to come back, I will make suitable arrangements for him." "I guess that will do. I will say the same." "I don't mind saying to you that I shall feel it quite a relief to be rid of the expense of maintaining him, for he has cost me a great deal of money. You are my son, and of course I expect to take care of you, and bring you up as a gentleman, but he has no claim upon me except that of relationship. I won't say that to others, however." "You are quite right, pa. As he is poor, and has his own living to make, it isn't best to send him to a high-priced school, and give him too much money to spend." It will be seen that there was a striking resemblance between the views of father and son, both of whom were intensely selfish, mean and unscrupulous. Stephen Watson foresaw that there would be a difficulty in making outside friends of the family understand why Kit had left home. He deliberately resolved to misrepresent him, and the opportunity came sooner than he anticipated. On the afternoon of the day of his call upon the blacksmith, there was a ring at the bell, and a middle-aged stranger was ushered into the parlor. "I suppose you don't remember me," he said to Stephen Watson. "I can't say I do," replied Stephen, eying him. "I knew your brother better than I did you. I am Harry Miller, who used to go to school with you both in the old red schoolhouse on the hill." "I remember your name, but I should not have remembered you." "I don't wonder. Time changes us all. I am sorry to hear that your poor brother is dead."