sir."
"I am obliged to leave this neighborhood at once, and can't conveniently carry the box," explained the stranger. "Here's something for your trouble."
Luke was about to say that he required no money, when it occurred to him that he had no right to refuse, since money was so scarce at home. He took the tin box and thrust the bank-bill into his vest pocket. He wondered how much it was, but it was too dark to distinguish.
"Good night!" said Luke, as the stranger turned away.
"Good night!" answered his new acquaintance, abruptly.
If Luke could have foreseen the immediate consequences of this apparently simple act, and the position in which it would soon place him, he would certainly have refused to take charge of the box. And yet in so doing it might have happened that he had made a mistake. The consequences of even our simple acts are oftentimes far-reaching and beyond the power of human wisdom to foreknow.
Luke thought little of this as, with the box under his arm, he trudged homeward.
CHAPTER V
LUKE RECEIVES AN INVITATION
"What have you there, Luke?" asked Mrs. Larkin, as Luke entered the little sitting-room with the tin box under his arm.
"I met a man on my way home, who asked me to keep it for him."
"Do you know the man?" asked his mother, in surprise.
"No," answered Luke.
"It seems very singular. What did he say?"
"He said that he was obliged to leave the neighborhood at once, and could not conveniently carry the box."
"Do you think it contains anything of value?"
"Yes, mother. It is like the boxes rich men have to hold their stocks and bonds. I was at the bank one day, and saw a gentleman bring in one to deposit in the safe."
"I can't understand that at all, Luke. You say you did not know this man?"
"I never met him before."
"And, of course, he does not know you?"
"No, for he asked my name."
"Yet he put what may be valuable property in your possession."
"I think," said Luke, shrewdly, "he had no one else to trust it to. Besides, a country boy wouldn't be very likely to make use of stocks and bonds."
"No, that is true. I suppose the tin box is locked?"
"Yes, mother. The owner—he says his name is Roland Reed—wishes it put under lock and key."
"I can lock it up in my trunk, Luke."
"I think that will be a good idea."
"I hope he will pay you for your trouble when he takes away the tin box."
"He has already. I forgot to mention it," and Luke drew from his vest pocket, the bank-note he had thrust in as soon as received. "Why, it's a ten-dollar bill!" he exclaimed. "I wonder whether he knew he was giving me as much?"
"I presume so, Luke," said his mother, brightening up. "You are in luck!"
"Take it, mother. You will find a use for it."
"But, Luke, this money is yours."
"No, it is yours, for you are going to take care of the box."
It was, indeed, quite a windfall, and both mother and son retired to rest in a cheerful frame of mind, in spite of Luke's failure in the race.
"I have been thinking, Luke," said his mother, at the breakfast-table, "that I should like to have you buy a Waterbury watch out of this money. It will only cost three dollars and a half, and that is only one-third."
"Thank you, mother, but I can get along without the watch. I cared for it chiefly because it was to be a prize given to the best skater. All the boys know that I would have won but for the accident, and that satisfies me."
"I should like you to have a watch, Luke."
"There is another objection, mother. I don't want any one to know about the box or the money. If it were known that we had so much property in the house, some attempt might be made to rob us."
"That is true, Luke. But I hope it won't be long before you have a watch of your own."
When Luke was walking, after breakfast, he met Randolph Duncan, with a chain attached to the prize watch ostentatiously displayed on the outside of his vest. He smiled complacently, and rather triumphantly, when he met Luke. But Luke looked neither depressed nor angry.
"I hope your watch keeps good time, Randolph," he said.
"Yes; it hasn't varied a minute so far. I think it will keep as good time as my silver watch."
"You are fortunate to have two watches."
"My father has promised me a gold watch when I am eighteen," said Randolph, pompously.
"I don't know if I shall have any watch at all when I am eighteen."
"Oh, well, you are a poor boy. It doesn't matter to you."
"I don't know about that, Randolph. Time is likely to be of as much importance to a poor boy as to a rich boy."
"Oh, ah! yes, of course, but a poor boy isn't expected to wear a watch."
Here the conversation ended. Luke walked on with an amused smile on his face.
"I wonder how it would seem to be as complacent and self-satisfied as Randolph?" he thought. "On the whole, I would rather be as I am."
"Good morning, Luke!"
It was a girl's voice that addressed him. Looking up, he met the pleasant glance of Florence Grant, considered by many the prettiest girl in Groveton. Her mother was a widow in easy circumstances, who had removed from Chicago three years before, and occupied a handsome cottage nearly opposite Mr. Duncan's residence. She was a general favorite, not only for her good looks, but on account of her pleasant manner and sweet disposition.
"Good morning, Florence," said Luke, with an answering smile.
"What a pity you lost the race yesterday!"
"Randolph doesn't think so."
"No; he is a very selfish boy, I am afraid."
"Did you see the race?" asked Luke.
"No, but I heard all about it. If it hadn't been for Tom Harper you would have won, wouldn't you?"
"I think so."
"All the boys say so. What could have induced Tom to get in the way?"
"I don't know. It was very foolish, however. He got badly hurt."
"Tom is a friend of Randolph," said Florence significantly.
"Yes," answered Luke;
