Mr. Ray had become pompous, and by his manner made it clear that he considered himself a man of great consequence. He was a local magistrate, and had for years endeavored to obtain a nomination for Congress.

Had he been of popular manners, he would probably have succeeded, but he was not a favorite among the poorer cla.s.ses, and their vote must be considered.

There is an old saying, "Like father, like son," and Clarence, now turned sixteen, the only child of the country magnate, was like his father in all objectionable qualities. He was quite as much impressed with ideas of his own consequence.

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon. Mr. Ray sat on the piazza, the day being unusually warm, reading a newspaper. In the street near by, his son Clarence was moving swiftly on a new velocipede which his father had just purchased for him.

"Out of the way, there!" he called out, as a shabbily dressed stranger with a weary step plodded along the pathway.

Whether because he was hard of hearing or because his mind was preoccupied, the stranger did not heed the warning, and Clarence, who might easily have avoided the collision, ran into him recklessly. Had the wheel been moving at a greater rate of speed, he might have been seriously hurt. As it was, he was nearly thrown down.

But he rallied, and seizing the offending rider with no gentle grasp, dragged him from the wheel, and shook him vigorously.

"Let me alone, you tramp!" exclaimed Clarence furiously.

But the stranger did not release his hold.

"Not till you apologize for running into me," he answered sternly.

"Apologize to a man like you!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Clarence, struggling furiously for his freedom.

"Will you apologize?"

"There is no need of an apology. You got in my way."

"You have no business on the sidewalk with your wheel. It is meant for foot pa.s.sengers."

"Do you know who I am?" demanded Clarence haughtily.

"No, I don't, nor do I care."

"I am Clarence Ray, son of Squire Stephen Ray. He is a magistrate, and he can send you to jail."

These words of Clarence had the effect he desired. The stranger released him, and eyed him with close scrutiny.

"So you are the son of Stephen Ray?" he said.

"Yes. What have you to say now?"

"That you had no right to run into me, whoever your father may be."

"I shall report your insolence to my father. I shall charge you with violently a.s.saulting me."

"I might have known you were Stephen Ray's son," said the stranger thoughtfully.

"Do you know my father?" asked Clarence.

"I am on my way to call upon him."

"I don't think it will do any good. He never gives money to tramps."

"I have a great mind to give you another shaking up," said the man, and in some fear Clarence edged away from him.

It was evident that this shabby-looking stranger had not a proper respect for those who were in a higher station.

"I will tell him not to give you anything," continued Clarence.

"Like father, like son," said the stranger thoughtfully, apparently not disturbed by the boy's threats.

Evidently he was no common tramp, or he would have been more respectful to the son of the man from whom he was probably about to ask a favor.

"You just wait till you see my father. He'll give you a lecture that you won't soon forget."

"You'd better get on your wheel, boy, and go right along," said the stranger calmly.

"Do you know where my father lives?"

"Yes, at yonder fine house. I see him sitting out on the piazza. Shall we go along together?"

"No, I don't keep such company as you."

"And yet some day you may be as poor and friendless as myself."

"That isn't very likely. My father is a very rich man."

"I knew him when he was poor."

More and more puzzled by the independent manner of this shabby stranger, Clarence made a spurt, and soon found himself in the grounds of his father's house.

"With whom were you talking, Clarence?" asked Stephen Ray as his son joined him on the piazza.

"One of the most impudent tramps I ever came across," answered Clarence.

"He made an attack upon me, and pulled me from my bicycle."

Stephen Ray's cheek flamed with anger. An insult to his son was an insult to him.

"Why did he do this? How dared he?"

"Because I happened to touch him as I pa.s.sed," answered Clarence.

"He actually pulled you from your bicycle?" asked Stephen Ray, almost incredulous.

"Yes."

"I should like to meet him. I should feel justified in ordering his arrest."

"You will have a chance to meet him. He told me he was going to call upon you--there he is now, entering the gate."

Stephen was glad to hear it. He wanted to empty the vails of his wrath on the audacious offender.