"Well, I think it foolish to leave a youth so much money," said Mr. Larabee, "and now my judgment is confirmed. You are no longer a millionaire." "I don't know as I care much," said Dick coolly. "My money didn't do as much as I expected it would." "Foolish, perverse youth," murmured his uncle. "But you must make a change in your plans. You can no longer stay at this expensive school. You had better pack up your things and come home with me to Dankville. I will look after you until your father comes home from Europe. Doubtless I may be able to get you a position in a woolen mill in which I am interested. If you hurry we can take the late train, and I will be able to use the excursion ticket I bought." Dick considered matters a moment. Then he said: "I don't think I'll go with you, Uncle Ezra." "Not go with me? Why, what will you do?" "Stay here and finish out the spring term. I'm just beginning to enjoy himself. There are only a few weeks left." "But how can you? You have very little, if any, money." "My tuition and board are paid up to the end of this term," said Dick calmly. "I have considerable money on deposit in the Kentfield bank, that I drew out from my funds at Hamilton Corners, when I came here. That will last me for some time. I think I prefer staying here to going back to--to Dankville." "Well, of all the foolish, idiotic, senseless, rash proceedings I ever heard of!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "The idea! You will stay here and use up what little money is saved from the wreck of your fortune! Why, maybe you could get a rebate on what has been paid for board and tuition." "I shouldn't think of asking for it," said Dick. "No, I think I'll stick it out here." There was a movement at the door, and something came into the room, something that slid up to Dick, and began wiggling at his feet. "Quiet, Grit, old boy," he said. "Is that your bulldog?" asked Uncle Ezra. "Yes; he was too lonesome at home without me, so I sent for him. He stays in the stable." "Another foolish and useless expense," murmured the old man. "Oh, what is the world coming to!" Dick didn't know, so he didn't answer. "Think well," went on Mr. Larabee. "You had better come home with me. I can get you work in the woolen mill." "I'll stay here," replied Dick firmly. "Then I wash my hands of you!" exclaimed the aged man. "Never appeal to me for help! I am done with you! Of all the foolish, thoughtless, rash youths I ever met, you are the worst; and your father----" What Mr. Larabee would have said about Mr. Hamilton he never finished, for Grit, hearing the voice of a man he considered his enemy, made a rush from under the table where he was lying, and growled as though he was going to sample Uncle Ezra's legs. "Take that brute away!" exclaimed Dick's crabbed relative, but before the order could be executed Mr. Larabee turned and fled from the room, Grit pursuing him as far as the hall.