The other boy, whose name was Arthur, I never met among the rowdies. His evenings, I am sure, were spent at home. I always found him studying his lessons, or reading with his sisters, or amusing himself at home.
That was twenty years ago. Both boys had begun to show which way they were leaning, and how their tastes inclined them. Twenty years will show it plainer.
The other day I heard of Willie. Somebody met him in Chicago.
“What is he?” I asked.
“A good-for-nothing, certainly, if not worse,” was the answer; “a shabby, idle, drinking fellow, whom nobody wants to employ.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear it—sorry, but not surprized. I wonder where Arthur is!”
“Arthur! Why, didn’t you know, he has just been taken into partnership with that old firm with which he served his time? They could not spare him, so they had to take him in.”
“Good!” I said. “It is just what I should have expected. He learned right.”—Young Folks.
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EARLY PROMISE