CHAPTER VI. MR. KENYON'S CHANGE OF BASE.

"G OOD-MORNING, Oliver," he said pleasantly, when our hero entered the room.

"Good-morning, sir," returned Oliver in surprise.

"We missed you at supper last evening," continued the step-father.

"Yes, sir; I took supper at Dr. Dudley's," explained Oliver, not quite certain whether this would be considered satisfactory.

"Dr. Dudley is a very worthy man," said Mr. Kenyon. "His son is about your age, is he not?"

"Yes, sir."

"He has a daughter, also—rather a pretty girl."

"I believe Roland thinks so," said Oliver, glancing at his step-brother.

"Roland has taste, then," said Mr. Kenyon. "You two boys mustn't quarrel about the young lady."

"I shan't quarrel," said Roland stiffly. "There are plenty other girls in this world."

"You are a philosopher, I see," said his father.

Roland felt that this had gone far enough. Why should his father talk pleasantly to Oliver, who had defied his authority the day before? If this went on, Oliver would be encouraged in his insubordination. He felt that it was necessary to revive the subject.

"I expect my ball is lost," he said in an aggrieved tone.

"What ball?" asked his father.

"The ball I batted out into the road yesterday afternoon."

"Probably someone has picked it up," said Mr. Kenyon, proceeding to open an egg.

Roland was provoked at his father's coolness and unconcern.

"If Oliver had picked it up for me it would not have been lost," he continued, with a scowl at our hero.

"If you had picked it up yourself, wouldn't it have answered the same purpose?"

Roland stared at his father in anger and dismay. Could he really mean it? Had he been won over to Oliver's side? Oliver, too, was surprised. He began to entertain a much more favorable opinion of his step-father.

"Didn't you tell Oliver to pick it up yesterday afternoon?" demanded Roland, making a charge upon his father.

"Yes, I believe I did."

"Well, he didn't do it."

"He was wrong, then," said Mr. Kenyon mildly. "He should have respected my authority."

"I'll go and look for it directly breakfast is over," said Oliver, quite won over by Mr. Kenyon's mildness.

"It wouldn't be any use," said Roland. "I've been looking for it myself this morning, and it isn't there."

"Of course, it wouldn't stay there all night," said Mr. Kenyon. "It has, no doubt, been picked up."

"Aint you going to punish Oliver for disobeying you?" burst out the disappointed Roland.

Oliver turned to his step-father with interest to hear his answer.

"No, Roland. On second thought, I don't think it was his place to go for the ball. You should have gone after it yourself."

Oliver smiled to himself with secret satisfaction. He had never thought so well of his step-father before. He even felt better disposed toward Roland.

"Why didn't you ask me politely, Roland?" he said. "Then we should have saved all this trouble."

"Because I am older than you, and you ought to obey me."

"I can't agree with you there," said Oliver composedly.

"Come, boys, I can't allow any quarrelling at the table," said Mr. Kenyon, but still pleasantly. "I don't see why we can't live together in peace and quietness."

"If he will only be like that all the time," thought Oliver, "there will be some pleasure in living with him. I am only afraid it won't last. What a difference there is between his manner to-day and yesterday."

Oliver was destined to be still more astonished when breakfast was over.

He had known for some time that Roland was better supplied with money than himself. In fact, he had been pinched for the want of a little ready money more than once, and whenever he applied to Mr. Kenyon, he was either refused or the favor was grudgingly accorded. To-day, as he rose from the table, Mr. Kenyon asked:

"How are you off for pocket-money, Oliver?"

"I have twenty-five cents in my pocket," said Oliver with a smile.

"Then it is about time for a new supply?"

"If you please, sir."

Mr. Kenyon took a five-dollar bill from his pocket, and passed it over to our hero.

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, with mingled surprise and gratitude.

"How much did you give him?" asked Roland crossly.

"The same that I give you, my son;" and Mr. Kenyon produced another bill.

Roland took the bill discontentedly. He was not satisfied to receive no more than Oliver.

"I think," he said to our hero, "you ought to buy me a new ball out of your money."

Oliver did not reply, but looked toward Mr. Kenyon.

"I will buy you a new ball myself," he said. "There is no call for Oliver to buy one, unless he wants one for his own use."

"If you will excuse me, sir," said Oliver respectfully, "I will get ready to go to school."

"Certainly, Oliver."

Roland and his father were left alone.

"It seems to me you've taken a great fancy to Oliver all at once," said Roland.

"What makes you think so?"

"You take his part against me. Didn't you tell him yesterday to go after my ball?"

"Yes."

"To-day you blame me for not going myself. You reward him for his impudence besides by giving him five dollars."

Mr. Kenyon smiled.

"So my conduct puzzles you, does it?" he inquired complacently.

"Yes, it does. I should think Oliver was your son instead of me."

"Have I not treated you as well as Oliver?"

"I think you ought to treat me better, considering I am your own son," grumbled Roland.

"I have good reasons for my conduct," said Mr. Kenyon mysteriously.

"What are they?"

"You are a boy, and it is not fitting I should tell you everything."

"You aint afraid of Oliver, are you?" demanded Roland bluntly.

Mr. Kenyon smiled pleasantly, showing a set of very white teeth as he did so.

"Really, that is amusing," he answered. "What on earth should make me afraid of Oliver?"

"I don't see what other reason you can have for backing down as you have."

"Listen, Roland. There is more than one way of arriving at a result, but there is always one way that is wiser than any other. Now it would not be wise for me to treat Oliver in such a way as to create unfavorable comment in the village."

"What do you care for what people in the village think?" asked Roland bluntly. "Haven't you got the money?"

"Yes."

"And Oliver hasn't a cent?"

"He has nothing except what I choose to give him."

"Good!" said Roland with satisfaction. "I hope you don't mean to give him as much as you do me," he added.

"Not in the end. Just at present I may."

"I don't see why you should."

"Then you must be content to take my word for it, and trust to my judgment. In the end you may be assured that I shall look out for your interests, and that you will be far better off than Oliver."

With this promise Roland was measurably satisfied. The thing that troubled him was that Oliver seemed to have triumphed over him in their recent little difference. Perhaps, could he have fathomed his step-father's secret designs respecting Oliver, he would have felt less dissatisfied. Mr. Kenyon was never more to be dreaded than when he professed to be friendly.