continued Dick, "is that I never gamble, whether it's over a game of billiards or something else. I don't believe it's right. It isn't a question of money at all. In fact, if you need a little cash, I don't mind lending it to you. But I'll not gamble for it.

"However," went on the wealthy youth, "don't let me stand in the way of you two having a good time. 'Every one to their notion,' as the old lady said when she kissed the cow," and Dick laughed.

"What's the cow got to do with it?" inquired Simon, who did not see the point of Dick's joke.

"Afraid," murmured Guy, but so low that Dick did not hear him.

"The cow," retorted Dick, with a glance at Simon, "is a second cousin to the one that jumped over the moon. But, aside from all this," he continued, more seriously, "if I did feel like playing billiards with you in there, I couldn't do it this afternoon, for I promised my father I'd be home early. He has an appointment with me—a very important one—and I'm in a hurry to keep it."

"Didn't look so, by the way you were walking along the street a moment ago," sneered Simon.

"I was just looking at some new fishing tackle in White's window," answered Dick. "I have my horse tied in front of the post-office, and I guess you know he goes fast enough to take me home in a hurry. Now I think I'll say ta-ta, and get along. Try to work some one else into your billiard game," and, with a nod that had in it not the least sign of displeasure, in spite of his firm words, Dick turned and walked off.

"Well, if he ain't the limit!" ejaculated Guy. "He makes me tired. Come on in, I'll play you a game; but not for ten dollars. Dad growled the other day because I asked him for money, and I've got to go slow."

"I wish I'd taken him at his word and borrowed about twenty-five dollars from him," remarked Simon, as he followed Guy into the billiard-room.

Meanwhile Dick had reached the post-office, where his horse, a handsome bay of fine spirit, but gentle disposition, was waiting him. The animal whinnied with pleasure as the lad came up, and when he patted the black muzzle, the horse showed every evidence of delight.

"I wonder if they think I can't get home in a hurry on you, Rex?" asked Dick, as he loosened the strap and vaulted into the saddle. "Come on, now, show 'em how you can go!"

The splendid animal was off like a shot, many persons in the street turning to look at the pleasing picture the well-built youth made on his handsome steed. Past the billiard parlor Dick rode at a fast pace, and several youths inside hurried to the door.

"There he goes," remarked Simon, with a sneer. "I'd like to take some of the starch out of him."

"Who?" inquired another player, chalking his cue.

"Dick Hamilton."

"He hasn't any starch in him," was the answer. "He's one of the best fellows in the world. One of the very few who has not been spoiled by their father's wealth. You don't know Dick Hamilton, or you wouldn't say he's stiff or proud."

"We don't want to know him," put in Guy.

"Well, I'd be proud to," went on the player at the next table. "He isn't in my class, or, rather, I'm not in his, but he always bows pleasantly and speaks to me every time we meet. He's a real sport, he is. None of your tin-horn variety."

Through the main street of the town Dick rode, waving his hand now and then to acquaintances who saluted him. To some he called out cheery words of greeting, and to several elderly men he bowed respectfully.

As Dick turned out of the main thoroughfare into one that led to the handsome mansion where he and his father lived, he came in sight of a spectacle that made him pause. It was a rattletrap of a wagon, drawn by a horse that seemed as much in danger of falling apart as did the vehicle. In the wagon was a miscellaneous collection of scrap iron, broken pipes, pieces of stoves, fractured pulleys and bent shafting mingling in a confused mass. On the seat sat a pleasant-faced, bright-looking youth, about Dick's age, and nearly of his size.

"Hello, Henry!" called Dick. "What in the world have you got there?"

"Scrap iron, scrap wagon and a scrap horse," replied Henry Darby, with a grin.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm in a sort of new venture," was the answer. "I'm collecting old iron, wherever I can find it, and selling it again. I bought up a lot out in the country, and I hired this rig to get it back to town with; only I'm afraid I'm not going to arrive."

"What's the matter?"

"Why, this horse—if you can call such an animal a dignified name like that—has the heaves, a spavin, spring-halt, blind-staggers, and a few other things. It got tired a few minutes ago, and went on a strike. I'm afraid to do anything to it to make it go for fear it'll fall apart right here in the road."

Dick, who had brought his steed to a stop, laughed heartily.

"Well, you are in a fix," he said. "But I don't understand about this old iron business."

"I've got to do something to make a living," answered Henry Darby, who seemed confused about something. "I have been doing it on a small scale for quite a while. Now I'm trying to branch out a bit. There's money in old iron, if I could sell enough of it. But I don't see how I'm going to get this load home. You might lend me your horse," he added with a laugh; for in spite of the poverty of Henry Darby, and the wealth of Dick Hamilton, the two boys were good friends.

"I'm sorry I can't do that, Henry," said Dick; and his voice showed that he was sincere. "The fact is, I'm in a hurry to get home. When I went out this morning father told me to be sure to be in at three o'clock, as he had something important to tell me."

"Maybe he's going to reduce your allowance," suggested Henry, with a laugh.

"No, I can't imagine what it is," and Dick spoke soberly "But that it's important I know by the way he acted. Otherwise I'd lend you my horse to pull that load back with. I'll tell you what I'll do, however. As soon as I get home I'll send one of the grooms out here with one of the work horses. They'll think that load is a feather. But now I am in a hurry, so I must gallop on. It won't do to keep dad waiting, especially when he laid so much stress on my being home on time."

"Oh, don't trouble about a horse. I guess I can get this—this animal to go after a while," and Henry laughed; for he was of a happy disposition, and trouble rolled away from him "like water off a duck's back," as he used to say.

"But it's no trouble at all," insisted Dick. "You wait here and I'll send a man back with a horse. You can drive him home to-morrow, or to-night, if you like."

"All right. It's very kind of you," said Henry, but Dick did not stay to listen to the thanks before he had called to Rex, under whose flying feet the dust of the road arose in a cloud.

"He must be in a hurry to ride like that," thought Henry, as he tried to lead on his apology for a horse. "I wonder what it is that his father is going to tell him? It must be about money I guess, for Mr. Hamilton has so much he doesn't know what to do with all of it."

Dick was also wondering, as he galloped along, what the important matter might be that his parent was to speak to him about. He only had a hint of it in what Mr. Hamilton had said that morning.

"This is your birthday," Dick's father had remarked, when he and his son were at breakfast in the Hamilton mansion. "I wish you many happy returns, and I will add that I have something very important to say to you this afternoon—something that may have a great influence on your future life. I will meet you here in the library at three o'clock, and communicate to you certain portions of your dear