HUGHIE'S EMANCIPATION Hughie rose late next morning, and the hurry and rush of getting off to school in time left him no opportunity to get rid of the little packages in his pocket, that seemed to burn and sting him through his clothes.

He determined to keep them safe in his pocket all day and put them back in the drawer at night.

His mother's face, white with her long watching, and sad and anxious in spite of its brave smile, filled him with such an agony of remorse that, hurrying through his breakfast, he snatched a farewell kiss, and then tore away down the lane lest he should be forced to confess all his terrible secret.
The first person who met him in the school-yard was Foxy.
"Have you got that ?" was his salutation.
A sudden fury possessed Hughie.
"Yes, you red-headed, sneaking fox," he answered, "and I hope it will bring you the curse of luck, anyway." Foxy hurried him cautiously behind the school, with difficulty concealing his delight while Hughie unrolled his little bundles and counted out the quarters and dimes and half dimes into his hand.
"There's a dollar, and there's a quarter, and--and--there's another," he added, desperately, "and God may kill me on the spot if I give you any more!" "All right, Hughie," said Foxy, soothingly, putting the money into his pocket.

"You needn't be so mad about it.

You bought the pistol and the rest right enough, didn't you ?" "I know I did, but--but you made me, you big, sneaking thief--and then you--" Hughie's voice broke in his rage.