been particularly impressed by his looks. "Does he?"

"Well, it strikes me so. I should say he is ill. Why don't you send for his mother to come up?"

"So I would, if we had a mother to send for," returned Peter. "Our mother died two years ago; and—and my father has married again. We have no longer any place in the old Somersetshire homestead, Raynor. Fred and I stand alone in the world."

"And without means?" cried Charles, quickly; who had lately begun to refer every evil the world contained to the want of money.

"Oh, he allows us something. Just enough to keep us going until we have started on our own account. I get a hundred a-year from the place I'm at. Fred gains nothing yet. He is not out of his articles."

"Well, I'll come and see him again soon," cried Charley, vaulting off. "Good-night, Peter."

Was Fred indeed seriously ill? Was it going to be one

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