“As for the boy,” said Squire Pope, with his usual autocratic air, “I shall place him in the poorhouse.”

“But, Benjamin,” said gentle Mrs. Pope, who had a kindly and sympathetic heart, “isn't that a little hard?”

“Hard, Almira?” said the squire, arching his eyebrows. “I fail to comprehend your meaning.”

“You know Philip has been tenderly reared, and has always had a comfortable home—”

“He will have a comfortable home now, Mrs. Pope. Probably you are not aware that it cost the town two thousand dollars last year to maintain the almshouse. I can show you the item in the town report.”

“I don’t doubt it at all, husband,” said Mrs. Pope gently. “Of course you know all about it, being a public man.”

Squire Pope smiled complacently. It pleased him to be spoken of as a public man.

“Ahem! Well, yes, I believe I have no inconsiderable influence in town affairs,” he responded. “I am on the board of selectmen, and am chairman of the overseers of the poor, ...”