And Tip Lewis was Tip no longer; no one knew him by that name; every one there said "Edward," save the store clerks, and they called him "Ed." He had a queer feeling sometimes that he was somebody else, and that Tip Lewis, whom he used to know so well, would be very much astonished if he could see him now. He went into Sabbath school, and became a member of Mr. Minturn's Bible class; but teachers were scarce, and before he had been there three weeks Mr. Minturn sent him to take charge of a class of very little boys, who called him "Mr. Lewis," and made him feel strange and tall. He began to realize that he was almost sixteen years old, and growing very fast. He was leading a very busy life now-a-days; at work all day, in and for the store, and in the evening doing all he could with his books. Those books and his love for them were a great safeguard to him, kept him away from many a temptation to go astray; and yet it was hard work to accomplish much in the little time he had, and with no helper. Sometimes he sighed wearily, and felt as though the road was full of stones. "I pity you, old fellow," one of the younger clerks said to him one evening, as they were leaving the store. "I don't know for what," was the good-natured answer. "Why, Mr. Minturn's pink of a perfect and wonderful and altogether amazing son Ray has just got home from the University; saw him pass the store not an hour ago, leaning back in the carriage like a prince." "What's he?" asked Edward. "He's a prig; that's what he is." "What's a prig?" "Ho! you're a greeney, if you don't know what a prig is. Wait till he snubs you and lords it over you awhile; then I guess you'll know. He'll have a good chance, seeing you're right there at the house all the while. I wouldn't be in your shoes for a penny." Spite of its making him a great greeney, Edward did not know what a prig was; but, judging from his companion's tone, he decided that it must be something very disagreeable. He went home feeling cross and uncomfortable, wishing that Ray were anybody in the world rather than Mr. Minturn's son, or anywhere else rather than at home. He was beginning to have such a nice time there; they were all so kind to him, and really seemed to like him. It was too bad to have it all spoiled. "I know what kind of a fellow he is," he muttered to himself; "he's like that Mr. Symonds who comes to the store twice a week or so after kid gloves, and acts as if he thought he was a great deal too good to ask me a decent question. My! I wish he was in Texas." The dining-room was a blaze of light when he peeped in, soon after the family were gathered waiting for Mr. Minturn. The newcomer sat on the sofa, one arm a-round little Alice, and the other resting gently on his mother's lap. Edward guessed, by his mother's face, that she did _not_ wish he was in Texas. Mr. Minturn came in presently, and Edward stole into the room just behind him; but Alice called him eagerly: