CHAPTER XIII.
"The rich and poor meet together; the Lord is the Maker of them all."
The boys gathered around the stove before school, and talked. The boys,—not all of them, by any means. Only that small, select number who were above, and led all the rest. Tip wandered outside of the circle, feeling very forlorn; he didn't belong anywhere these days. Bob and his friends had very nearly deserted him; there was scarcely any of their fun in which he had time or desire to join, and the other cliques in school had never noticed him; so he stood outside, and wondered what he should do with himself. Howard Minturn wheeled suddenly away from the boys, and called to him,—
"Tip, see here."
And Tip went there.
"What do you want?" he asked crossly; for some way he felt out of sorts with that company of finely-dressed boys around the stove.
"Want you to come over to-night. It's my birthday, you know, and some of the boys are coming to take tea, and spend the evening. Can you come?"
Tip's wide-open eyes spoke his astonishment. "What do you want of me?" he asked at last, speaking boldly just what he thought.
"Why, I want you to come and help have a nice time," returned Howard, with great kindness, but just a little condescension in his tone.
Tip heard it, and his bitterness showed itself a little. "It's a new streak you've got, ain't it?" he said, still speaking crossly. "You've had lots of birthdays, and this is the first one I've heard of."