out!" boasted Malachi one day and waited to hear his wife's approving echo.
Instead there came a sound like a sob, and he turned with astonished eyes to behold a coddled mother who was weeping.
"Oh, I think it's terrible, Mal!" she broke out, as with emotion that had been long suppressed. "It's been necessary, I guess, but he's almost ruined," she wailed. "He's a little old man. He don't think of anything but money—making money—Success! Success! Success! He's just got his eye on that."
If George Judson could have seen his mother's tears, he would have been mystified. If he had heard her speech he would have laughed. Neither seeing nor hearing, he went blissfully and determinedly upon his way.
Eventually he graduated from high school two years behind his class, and he had been at least a year behind his age to begin with. He was an oldster among youngsters and was sufficiently embarrassed by this fact that he would not appear upon the platform at the commencement exercises to receive his diploma. He had gained the knowledge it stood for, and that was the important thing with George anyway. The diploma was eventually slipped into his hand at one of his stores by his admiring principal.
These two stores, by the way, had by this time grown to be considerable enterprises, with ever-
