W ITHOUT much hope of obtaining sympathy or credence, Oliver wrote to his step-father an account of the charge which Mr. Bond had brought against him, and denied in the most positive terms its truth.

"There," he said to himself as he posted the letter, "that is all I can do. Mr. Kenyon must now decide which he will believe."

Until he should hear from his step-father he decided not to form any plans for the future. One thing he was decided upon, not to return home. Since his mother\'s death (for he supposed her dead) it was no home for him. He had been in the city long enough to become fond of city life, and he meant to remain there. If Mr. Kenyon chose to assist him to procure another situation, he would accept his proffered aid, otherwise he would try to earn his own living.

Two days later he received a letter, which he at once perceived to be in his step-father\'s handwriting. He tore it open eagerly and began to read. His lip curled with scorn before he had read far.

These were the material portions of the letter:

The same mail brought me letters from you and Mr. Bond. I need not say how grieved I am to hear that you have subjected yourself to a criminal charge. The circumstances leave no doubt of your guilt. Unhappy boy! how, with the liberal allowance you received, could you stoop to so mean, so dishonorable a theft? My nephew writes me that with brazen effrontery you denied your guilt, though it was self-evident, and treated his remonstrances with the most outrageous insolence. It is well, indeed, that your poor mother did not live to see this day.

"How dare he refer to my mother!" exclaimed Oliver indignantly, when he came to this passage.

He went on with the letter:

I didn\'t expect that my well-meant and earnest effort to start you on a business career would terminate in this way. I confess I am puzzled to know what to do with you. I cannot take you home, for I do not wish Roland corrupted by your example.

Here Oliver\'s lip curled again with scorn.<............