As I attempt to visualize myself to myself at the time of my “graduation” from the common school, I see a lad, twelve years of age and growing rapidly in stature, with unsettled, brown hair which would neither part nor be smoothed, a front tooth missing, having been knocked out by a stone inadvertently thrown while he was in swimming, a lean, lank, uncouth, awkward lad at the awkward age, with a mental furnishing which permitted him to tell with authority when America was discovered, able to draw a half of an apple on drawing-paper, just in common fractions, able to distinguish between nouns and verbs, and a very good reader of most fearsome dime novels. The law said that I was “fitted” now to leave school and take my place among the world’s workers! But now that I was ready to enter the mill, with my school-certificate in my possession, Uncle Stanwood raised his scruples again, saying regretfully enough, “Oh, Al mustn’t leave the school. He might never get back again, Millie.” My aunt laughed cynically, and handed two letters to her husband. “Read them, and see what you think!” she said. Uncle read the two letters, and turned very pale, for they were lawyer’s letters, threatening to strip our house of the furniture and to sue us at law, if we did not bring up the back payments we owed on our clothing and our furniture! “You see, canter,” scoffed aunt, “he’s got to go in. There’s no other help, is there!” Uncle, crushed, said, “No, there isn’t. Would to God there was!” And so the matter was decided. “In the morning you must take Al to the school-committee and get his mill-papers,” said my aunt, before we went to bed. “I’ll ask off from work, then,” replied my uncle. I always enjoyed being in the company of Uncle Stanwood. He was always trying to make me happy when it was in his power to do so. I knew his heart--that despite the weakness of his character, burned with great love for me. He was not, like Aunt Millie, buffeting me about, as if I were a pawn in the way. He had the kind word for me, and the desirable plan. On our walk to the school-committee’s office, in the heart of the city, we grew very confidential when we found ourselves beyond the keen, jealous hearing of Aunt Millie.