The cough-candy was found at a store away up town, and, getting a paper of it, Tip dashed on around the corner and opened Mr.Minturn's store door.
"When is your brother going home ?" he asked, without ceremony, seeing Mr.
Minturn behind the counter.
"Next Monday." "Well, I'm going to talk to father, and I think likely I'll want to go along with him." "All right." So Tip slammed to the door and ran away and Mr.Minturn never knew what a downfall that decision had been to the boy's dear hopes and plans.
It was all settled in the course of a day or two.

Mr.Minturn from Albany was very kind.

Tip was to have wages that seemed a small fortune to him, and enough had been advanced to get him a new suit of clothes, which his mother made.
One would have supposed that the future would look bright to him; yet it was with a very sad heart that he took his seat in prayer-meeting that Thursday evening, the last time he expected to be in that room for--he didn't know how long.

He had a feeling that he ought to be very glad and thankful, and wasn't at all.
Through the opening hymns and prayers his heart kept growing heavier every moment, and it was not until Mr.Holbrook arose, and repeated the text which he had chosen for the evening, that Tip could arouse himself to listen.

It was a queer text, so he thought,--"Who shall roll away the stone ?" What could Mr.Holbrook be going to say on that?
He found out, and had reason to remember it for ever after.