"we're not to go to the seaside? oh, mother, why not?"

"because, dear, we can't afford it. i'm very, very sorry, but you must try to enjoy your holidays at home; and, please, tom, don't let your father guess that you greatly mind—of course, it's only natural that you should be disappointed."

the scene was the comfortable though decidedly shabby sitting-room at no. 3 ladysmith terrace, a row of new houses on the outskirts of chilaton, a large provincial town; and the speakers were mrs. burford, a pretty, rather delicate-looking woman of thirty, and her ten-year-old son, tom, whose usually bright face was now wearing an expression of mingled amazement and dismay. it was a pleasant afternoon at the close of july, and on the previous day the school, which tom attended as a day-scholar, had broken up for the long holiday. always, hitherto, mr. burford, who was a clerk in a bank in chilaton, had taken his holiday in august, and gone with his family to the seaside; but mrs. burford had just told tom that that programme could not be carried out this year.

"you see," she continued, "we have had extra expenses to cope with— nellie's illness, for instance, and—"

"dr. brewer said that a change of air would set nellie up quicker than anything!" tom broke in, eagerly; "you haven't forgotten that, mother?"

mrs. burford shook her head, and her lips quivered. there was a minute's silence, then she said, quietly: "if it was possible, we should carry out dr. brewer's prescription, tom, but it is not. we must live within our income, and we could not do that if we took a holiday under existing circumstances. i hope, next year, if your father should get a rise—"

tom, who was standing by the open window, gazing into the small patch of flower garden which divided the house from the road, turned sharply and looked at his mother as her voice altered and stopped. mrs. burford was seated in a low chair, a stocking, which she had been darning, drawn over her left hand, but she had ceased working, for she could not see on account of the tears which had suddenly filled her eyes. the boy's heart swelled with sympathy for her as he saw the sad feelings she was trying to keep down. "oh, mother," he cried, "don't look like that! i daresay nellie will get quite well without going away! you know she is much better than she was a month ago! why, i heard you say, yesterday, that you really thought she was a little fatter! and she's quite lost her cough!"

"hush!" whispered mrs. burford, blinking away her tears, and hastily restarting her work, "here she comes! well, nellie, my dear!"

the door had opened to admit a little girl, followed by a small, smooth-haired fox-terrier. she crossed the room to her mother's side, where she seated herself on a stool, leaning her curly golden head against the arm of her mother's chair; she was a very pretty child, nearly two years younger than tom, but whereas six months before she had been full of merriment and high spirits, she was now, as her brother complained, "as quiet as a mouse and with no fun left in her." this change was the result of a serious illness she had had in the spring.

"shall we take tim for a walk, nellie?" suggested tom, as the terrier came up to him, and stood wagging his tail and looking at him with an eager expression, which he read aright, in his sharp brown eyes. "he's asking me to go," he added.

tim was a very intelligent little animal, and his face, quaintly marked, one side quite white and the other black and tan, was wonderfully expressive; at the present moment it seemed to say: "come out into the sunshine! don't stop indoors wasting this beautiful summer afternoon!"

"i'm tired, tom," nellie replied, "i'd rather stay with mother if you don't mind. besides, if i don't go you'll be able to take tim farther—i couldn't walk very far, you know."

this was true, so tom said no more and left his sister at home. five minutes later, with tim trotting on ahead of him, he had turned his back on ladysmith terrace, and was strolling along a wider road than the one in which his home was situated, which led to the open country. by and by he came within sight of a pretty ivy-covered detached house, with a well-kept lawn before it, around which, on one side, was a wide carriage-drive, whilst the other side was edged with flower-beds, gay with summer and early autumn flowers. this was halcyon villa, the residence of miss perry, an elderly maiden lady who was said to be very rich.

tom, walking along with his hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his mind full of far from happy thoughts, was paying no attention to tim, and did not observe that, on reaching the big iron gate leading into the grounds of halcyon villa, he had met another dog—an irish terrier; and, therefore, he looked up with a start at the sound of a voice— a startled voice which cried:

"bounce! bounce! come here! oh, please, whoever you are, take your dog away!"

the speaker was a dark-haired, dark-complexioned boy, apparently about tom's age. he was standing within the gate, his face close to the bars, an expression of great anxiety upon his features. it was evident he feared that the dogs, who, with raised backs, were walking stiffly around each other, growling, meant to fight.

tom gave him a glance of contempt, secretly thinking him a coward, and answered: "easier said than done! come out and fetch your dog in!"

the words were barely out of his mouth when the dogs closed with each other, and a moment later found them fighting in the middle of the road. tim fought pluckily, but he was not evenly matched, his antagonist being bigger and stronger than himself, and in less than a minute the irish terrier had got him under, and doubtless would have done him serious injury if a man had not come along and separated the animals; whereupon the irish terrier, looking rather ashamed of himself, retreated to the side of his master, who had come out into the road and now hastened to fasten a leash to his collar.

"you should keep your dog under control!" cried tom angrily and very unreasonably. "i never saw a more savage brute!"

"he doesn't fight unless he's interfered with," the other boy answered, his dark cheeks flushing. "but, as a rule, i have him on the lead. i was giving him a run in the garden, and he went out over the hedge. i heard your dog come up and growl at him. i hope your dog is not hurt?"

"not much. he has a bite on one of his forelegs, i see, but that's nothing."

tom was beginning to be ashamed of the temper he had shown. he could quite believe that tim, who was always fierce to strange dogs, had been the first to show a hostile spirit.

"oh, i am glad of that!" the dark boy said. "what sort of dog is he, and what is his name?"

tom was bending over tim, examining his injury. he looked up in surprise; then laughed rather scornfully.

"why, he's a fox-terrier, of course!" he exclaimed; "and nearly thoroughbred, too. his name's tim. what do you call your dog? oh, i remember!—bounce."

"yes, bounce. he was always a very good dog in london. my home's in london, you know. but the last few days, since i have been here with aunt harriet, he's given a lot of trouble: got away by himself, and not come back for hours. aunt harriet thinks he goes hunting in the woods."

"if he does, he will end by being caught in a trap."

"oh, do you think so? i did not know there were traps in the woods."

"there are. poachers set them for rabbits, and whatever else they can catch."

there was a minute's silence. then tom inquired:

"is miss perry your aunt?"

"yes, my father's sister. i'm going to spend my holidays with her."

"jolly for you! she's awfully rich, isn't she? you'll ride about in her motor-car, and have no end of a good time! what's your name?"

"peter perry. and yours?"

"tom burford."

"do you know my aunt?"

"rather not. we're not rich people living in a big house, with servants to wait on us, and everything we want! we're poor!"

there was a note of bitterness in tom's voice, of which he was scarcely conscious himself, but peter heard it, and replied sympathetically: "it must be dreadful to be poor—to be short, perhaps, of even food, and clothes, and—"

"oh, i didn't mean we were so poor as that," tom interrupted, crimsoning, and aghast at the false impression he had evidently given. "i meant—why, what's this?"

the other boy had stepped close to him and had slipped something— a shilling it proved to be—into his hand, murmuring that he was so sorry for him and that he wanted him to have the money to buy something for himself.

tom looked at the coin in amazed silence for a minute, the hot colour slowly receding from his cheeks in his shame; them amazement and shame gave place to anger, and he flung the shilling in the road at his companion's feet.

"pick it up from there, if you want it!" he cried wrathfully. "i don't know what you can think of me! get out of my way and let me pass!"

"oh, wait, wait!" cried peter perry, seemingly much distressed.

but tom pushed him roughly aside, and, followed by tim, who was now in a chastened frame of mind, strode off at a great rate in the direction of his home, his heart hot with anger against the boy who, he considered, had insulted him.

"i shan't tell them about it at home," he decided; "for i suppose i oughtn't to have said we were poor. but, oh! how was it he didn't see i wasn't the sort of boy to take money? how could he have made such a mistake?"