"No, I haven't, Uncle Ezra."
"Hum, well, I didn't think you would. Boys have no head for business nowadays. I knew your money would do you little good. So you are to come and live a year with me, eh?"
"I suppose so. Yes, of course, Uncle Ezra," and Dick tried to make his voice sound cheerful, but it was hard work when he thought of the gloomy house.
"Well, I told Samanthy I'd bring you back with me, and she's going to have your room all ready. Then, too, I've arranged to send you to a good boarding school. It is taught by a friend of mine; a man who doesn't believe in nonsense."
Dick could see, in fancy, the kind of a school Uncle Ezra would pick out, and he could also fancy the principal of it, a harsh, stern old man. He sighed, but there was no help for it.
"So I will take you away with me to-morrow," went on Mr. Larabee, rubbing his hands as if delighted at the prospect. "I shall—Gracious goodness! What's that?" he exclaimed, jumping from his chair, as a loud growl sounded from under the library table. "Have you a wild animal in here. Nephew Richard?"
"I guess it's my bulldog. Grit," replied Dick. "Here, Gibbs," calling the butler, "have Grit taken to the stable."
Grit was led away, growling out a protest.
"I can't bear dogs," said Uncle Ezra. "You'll
