W HEN Oliver left the house he was uncertain whither to bend his steps. The supper hour was near at hand, but it would hardly be pleasant under the circumstances to meet his step-father and Roland at the tea-table. He preferred to go without his evening meal.
As he walked slowly along the main street on which his step-father's house was situated, plunged in thought, he was called to himself by a slap on his shoulder.
"What are you thinking about, Oliver?" was asked, in a cheery voice.
"Frank Dudley!" said our hero, "you're just the boy I want to see."
"Do I owe you any money?" asked Frank, in mock alarm.
"Not that I know of."
"Then it's all right. I am glad to meet you, too. Where are you going?"
"I don't know."
"Have you had supper?"
"No."