must be Paul Revere, because he had been spoken of as a rider; Julius Cæsar and Columbus were hopelessly mixed, both having mentioned themselves as crossing the water, and it being impossible, from the description given, to distinguish between the Rubicon and the Atlantic Ocean; the Lady of the Lake and Pocahontas were confused, as they each saved a life; and every one mistook the Old Woman that lived in a Shoe for Puss in Boots, because of her persistent talk about foot-wear.

Cynthia had made a greater number of correct guesses than any one, but as she was one of the hostesses she could not, of course, claim a prize, so it fell to Tony Bronson, who was next on the list. Cynthia turned away to hide the grimace which she could not repress when the dear little clock in a red-leather case was given to him as first prize.

Kitty Morgan, Gertrude's cousin, was awarded the "booby" prize, for having made the poorest guesses—a dainty little pin, which, she said, quite repaid her for her stupidity; while one of the Brenton girls, whose list was next best to Bronson's, received a pretty silver-framed calendar as "Consolation."

It made a merry evening, and after the game was over they danced and played other games until it was time to go home. It was eleven o'clock when the last sleigh drove away.

"Only an hour to midnight," said Cynthia; "can't we sit up and see the old year out? Do, papa, let us! We never have, and it must be such fun. We couldn't go to sleep, anyhow, after such an exciting evening."

Mr. Franklin consented, and they sat about the fire discussing the success of the game and the girls and boys who had been there, one or two of whom remained for the night at Oakleigh.

Neal and Cynthia were alone for a few moments. They had gone out into the hall to see the hour by the tall clock, and they found the hands pointing to ten minutes of twelve.

"Let us wait here for it to strike," said Cynthia, going to the window.

The lamp had gone out in the hall, and it was but dimly lighted from the room where the family were sitting. Outside, the moon was shining on the white fields and frozen river. The old year was dying in a flood of glory.

"I always feel so full of good resolutions on New-Year's Eve," said Cynthia, in a low voice; "I wish I could keep them all."

"So do I," returned Neal. "I am always turning over a new leaf. I must have turned over three volumes of new leaves by this time. But they don't amount to much."

"It is discouraging, isn't it? I have never said anything about it to any one before. It seems to me I am always breaking my good resolutions."

"I don't see how. First of all, it doesn't seem as if you did anything that is wrong—a girl doesn't have much chance to."

"Oh yes, she does. You don't know. And I have so many faults. There are my bureau drawers—I can't keep them neat, and my clothes would be all in tatters if it were not for Edith and mamma. And, worst of all, there is my tongue."

"Your tongue?"

"Yes. It is such fun to make fun of people and say sharp things when I don't like them—the kind of thing I am always saying to that Bronson."

Neal laughed, and then he sighed.

"You are putting me into a bad corner. If you think your faults are so tremendous, what must you think of mine? I'm a thief and a coward."

"Neal!"

"Yes, I am. I am a thief because I don't pay that money. I had no business to borrow it in the first place, and I could save it out of my allowance if I would take the trouble, but I am too lazy: and I am such a coward I won't ask Hessie for it, because I am ashamed to have your father know it. It's all a nasty business, anyway."

He looked moodily out on the snow, drumming his fingers on the window-pane.

"Neal," said Cynthia, softly touching his arm with her hand as she spoke, "let's turn over one more new leaf. I will look out for my tongue and my bureau drawers, and you will tell mamma everything and start fresh. Will you, Neal? Promise!"

Before he answered the clock began to strike.

"Happy New-Year! Happy New-Year!" was heard from the parlor. "Neal and Cynthia, where are you? Come in here, that we may all be together when the clock stops striking."

So the old year died, and Neal had not given the required promise.

One day, shortly before he returned to St. Asaph's, he said to his sister,

"Hessie, if I had been of age I think I would have tried to break the will of grandmother's."

"Oh, Neal dear, don't say that! What do you mean?"

"Well, it isn't that I mind your having the money; you have always been a brick about keeping me supplied; but the trouble is, I need more than you give me."

"Neal, I am afraid you are spending too much," said Mrs. Franklin, looking at him anxiously. "Are you in debt again? You know I would love to give you all I have, but your guardians and the trustees of the estate and John all think that you have a very large allowance for a school-boy, and it would not be a good plan to let you have any more."

"Bother them all!" exclaimed Neal, seizing the poker and giving the fire an angry thrust. A shower of sparks flew out, but he let one burn a hole in the rug without noticing. "I'm tired of being tied to your apron-string. I've a good mind to cut loose altogether."

"Don't say that!" cried Mrs. Franklin, in distress, going to him and putting her arm through his. He was taller than she, and she had to look up at him.

"If it were only you, it would be different," continued her brother; "but you see you're married now, and everything is changed."

"But John is fond of you, Neal; I know he is. But he knows all about boys, and his advice is good. Would—would five dollars help you?"

"You're a good little soul, Hessie," said Neal, looking down at her affectionately, his momentary ill-humor passing, "and I suppose it is not your fault if you can't give me any more. No, thank you; I won't take the fiver. Don't worry about me. Here comes Jack in the cutter; we're going to the village." And in a moment he was off.

The next day he went back to St. Asaph's.

The winter passed quickly after Christmas had come and gone, and all had settled down again to the regular routine of work. Mrs. Franklin could not help feeling anxious about Neal. She confided her fears to her husband, but he made light of them.

"The boy only wanted more spending-money, Hester. He is very extravagant, and you will be doing very wrongly if you supply him with more money. His allowance is too large, at any rate, for a boy of his age. Jack gets along perfectly well with just one-fifth the amount."

"But Jack is different."

"Very different, and Neal ought to be different, too. You paid his debts in the fall, which were enormous for a school-boy, and then he was free to start afresh. You will never cure him of extravagance if you keep him supplied with all the money he wants."

Mrs. Franklin was forced to acknowledge the truth of her husband's remarks. She said no more, though she was none the less worried.

Cynthia noticed that her step-mother was not as light-hearted as formerly. They were going in to Boston one Saturday morning to do some shopping together. Cynthia had decided to buy a watch with Aunt Betsey's money, and she had brought the gold pieces with her.

"I am so afraid of losing them I don't know what to do," she said. "Fifty dollars is so enormous, isn't it? Please take it in your bag, mamma; I know I shall lose it."

Mrs. Franklin smiled absently, and when she had put away the money she looked out of the window again.

"Mamma," said Cynthia, leaning towards her, "you are worried about something, aren't you? Tell me, is it Neal?"

Mrs. Franklin looked startled.

"I did not know I had such a tell-tale face," she said. "Yes, you have guessed it, Cynthia. I cannot help feeling worried about him. I have not heard from him for some time, and that