decidedly.

"Speak for yourself, Dick Bumstead," said John haughtily. "I
wouldn't lower myself by a comparison with him. He's only a
laborer, and will grow up a clodhopper."

"He's my friend, John Haynes," said Dick stoutly, "and if you've
got anything else to say against him, you'll oblige me by going
farther off."

John left in high dudgeon.

That day, to his father's surprise, Dick worked with steady
industry, and did not make a single attempt to shirk.



CHAPTER XV. POMP BEHAVES BADLY

The village of Rossville was distant about five miles from the
long line of railway which binds together with iron bands the
cities of New York and Boston. Only when the wind was strongly
that way could the monotonous noise of the railway-train be
heard, as the iron monster, with its heavy burden, sped swiftly
on its way.

Lately a covered wagon had commenced running twice a day between
Rossville and the railway-station at Wellington. It was started
at seven in the morning, in time to meet the early trains, and
again at four, in order to receive any passengers who might have