Preface
      ``The Cash Boy,'' by Horatio Alger, Jr., as the nameimplies, is a story about a boy and for boys.
　　Through some conspiracy, the hero of the storywhen a baby, was taken from his relatives andgiven into the care of a kind woman.
　　Not knowing his name, she gave him her husband'sname, Frank Fowler. She had one littledaughter, Grace, and showing no partiality in thetreatment of her children, Frank never suspectedthat she was not his sister. However, at the deathof Mrs. Fowler, all this was related to Frank.
　　The children were left alone in the world. Itseemed as though they would have to go to thepoorhouse but Frank could not become reconciled to that.
　　A kind neighbor agreed to care for Grace, soFrank decided to start out in the world to makehis way.
　　He had many disappointments and hardships, butthrough his kindness to an old man, his own relativesand right name were revealed to him.
Chapter 1
      A group of boys was assembled in an open field tothe west of the public schoolhouse in the town ofCrawford. Most of them held hats in their hands,while two, stationed sixty feet distant from eachother, were ``having catch.''
　　Tom Pinkerton, son of Deacon Pinkerton, had justreturned from Brooklyn, and while there had witnesseda match game between two professional clubs.
　　On his return he proposed that the boys of Crawfordshould establish a club, to be known as theExcelsior Club of Crawford, to play among themselves,and on suitable occasions to challenge clubs belongingto other villages. This proposal was receivedwith instant approval.
　　``I move that Tom Pinkerton address the meeting,''
　　said one boy.
　　``Second the motion,'' said another.
　　As there was no chairman, James Briggs wasappointed to that position, and put the motion, whichwas unanimously carried.
　　Tom Pinkerton, in his own estimation a personageof considerable importance, came forward in aconsequential manner, and commenced as follows:
　　``Mr. Chairman and boys. You all know whathas brought us together. We want to start a clubfor playing baseball, like the big clubs they have inBrooklyn and New York.''
　　``How shall we do it?'' asked Henry Scott.
　　``We must first appoint a captain of the club, whowill have power to assign the members to their differentpositions. Of course you will want one thatunderstands about these matters.''
　　``He means himself,'' whispered Henry Scott, tohis next neighbor; and here he was right.
　　``Is that all?'' asked Sam Pomeroy.
　　``No; as there will be some expenses, there must bea treasurer to receive and take care of the funds, andwe shall need a secretary to keep the records of theclub, and write and answer challenges.''
　　``Boys,'' said the chairman, ``you have heard TomPinkerton's remarks. Those who are in favor oforganizing a club on this plan will please signify itin the usual way.''
　　All the boys raised their hands, and it was declareda vote.
　　``You will bring in your votes for captain,'' saidthe chairman.
　　Tom Pinkerton drew a little apart with a consciouslook, as he supposed, of course, that no one but himselfwould be thought of as leader.
　　Slips of paper were passed around, and the boysbegan to prepare their ballots. They were broughtto the chairman in a hat, and he forthwith took themout and began to count them.
　　``Boys,'' he announced, amid a universal stillness,``there is one vote for Sam Pomeroy, one for EugeneMorton, and the rest are for Frank Fowler, who iselected.''
　　There was a clapping of hands, in which TomPinkerton did not join.
　　Frank Fowler, who is to be our hero, cameforward a little, and spoke modestly as follows:
　　``Boys, I thank you for electing me captain of theclub. I am afraid I am not very well qualified forthe place, but I will do as well as I can.''
　　The speaker was a boy of fourteen. He was ofmedium height for his age, strong and sturdy inbuild, and with a frank prepossessing countenance,and an open, cordial manner, which made him ageneral favorite. It was not, however, to hispopularity that he owed his election, but to the fact thatboth at bat and in the field he excelled all the boys,and therefore was the best suited to take the lead.
　　The boys now proceeded to make choice of a treasurerand secretary. For the first position Tom Pinkertonreceived a majority of the votes. Though notpopular, it was felt that some office was due him.
　　For secretary, Ike Stanton, who excelled inpenmanship, was elected, and thus all the offices werefilled.
　　The boys now crowded around Frank Fowler, withpetitions for such places as they desired.
　　``I hope you will give me a little time before Idecide about positions, boys,'' Frank said; ``I want toconsider a little.''
　　``All right! Take till next week,'' said one andanother, ``and let us have a scrub game this afternoon.''
　　The boys were in the middle of the sixth inning,when some one called out to Frank Fowler: ``Frank,your sister is running across the field. I think shewants you.''
　　Frank dropped his bat and hastened to meet hissister.
　　``What's the matter, Gracie?'' he asked in alarm.
　　``Oh, Frank!'' she exclaimed, bursting into tears.
　　``Mother's been bleeding at the lungs, and she looksso white. I'm afraid she's very sick.''
　　``Boys,'' said Frank, turning to his companions,``I must go home at once. You can get some one totake my place, my mother is very sick.''
　　When Frank reached the little brown cottagewhich he called home, he found his mother in anexhausted state reclining on the bed.
　　``How do you feel, mother?'' asked our hero, anxiously.
　　``Quite weak, Frank,'' she answered in a low voice.
　　``I have had a severe attack.''
　　``Let me go for the doctor, mother.''
　　``I don't think it will be necessary, Frank. Theattack is over, and I need no medicines, only timeto bring back my strength.''
　　But three days passed, and Mrs. Fowler's nervousprostration continued. She had attacks previouslyfrom which she rallied sooner, and her present weaknessinduced serious misgivings as to whether shewould ever recover. Frank thought that her eyesfollowed him with more than ordinary anxiety, andafter convincing himself that this was the case, hedrew near his mother's bedside, and inquired:
　　``Mother, isn't there something you want me to do?''
　　``Nothing, I believe, Frank.''
　　``I thought you looked at me as if you wanted tosay something.''
　　``There is something I must say to you before Idie.''
　　``Before you die, mother!'' echoed Frank, in astartled voice.
　　``Yes. Frank, I am beginning to think that this ismy last sickness.''
　　``But, mother, you have been so before, and gotup again.''
　　``There must always be a last time, Frank; andmy strength is too far reduced to rally again, Ifear.''
　　``I can't bear the thought of losing you, mother,''
　　said Frank, deeply moved.
　　``You will miss me, then, Frank?'' said Mrs. Fowler.
　　``Shall I not? Grace and I will be alone in theworld.''
　　``Alone in the world!'' repeated the sick woman,sorrowfully, ``with little help to hope for from man,for I shall leave you nothing. Poor children!''
　　``That isn't what I think of,'' said Frank, hastily.
　　``I can support myself.''
　　``But Grace? She is a delicate girl,'' said themother, anxiously. ``She cannot make her way asyou can.''
　　``She won't need to,'' said Frank, promptly; ``Ishall take care of her.''
　　``But you are very young even to support yourself.
　　You are only fourteen.''
　　``I know it, mother, but I am strong, and I am notafraid. There are a hundred ways of making a living.''
　　``But do you realize that you will have to startwith absolutely nothing? Deacon Pinkerton holds amortgage on this house for all it will bring in themarket, and I owe him arrears of interest besides.''
　　``I didn't know that, mother, but it doesn't frightenme.''
　　``And you will take care of Grace?''
　　``I promise it, mother.''
　　``Suppose Grace were not your sister?'' said thesick woman, anxiously scanning the face of the boy.
　　``What makes you suppose such a thing as that,mother? Of course she is my sister.''
　　``But suppose she were not,'' persisted Mrs.
　　Fowler, ``you would not recall your promise?''
　　``No, surely not, for I love her. But why do youtalk so, mother?'' and a suspicion crossed Frank'smind that his mother's intellect might be wandering.
　　``It is time to tell you all, Frank. Sit down by thebedside, and I will gather my strength to tell youwhat must be told.''
　　``Grace is not your sister, Frank!''
　　``Not my sister, mother?'' he exclaimed. ``You arenot in earnest?''
　　``I am quite in earnest, Frank.''
　　``Then whose child is she?''
　　``She is my child.''
　　``Then she must be my sister--are you not mymother?''
　　``No, Frank, I am not your mother!''
Chapter 2
      ``Not my mother!'' he exclaimed. ``Who, then, ismy mother?''
　　``I cannot tell you, Frank. I never knew. Youwill forgive me for concealing this from you for solong.''
　　``No matter who was my real mother since I haveyou. You have been a mother to me, and I shall alwaysthink of you as such.''
　　``You make me happy, Frank, when you say that.
　　And you will look upon Grace as a sister also, willyou not?''
　　``Always,'' said the boy, emphatically. ``Mother,will you tell all you know about me? I don't knowwhat to think; now that I am not your son I cannotrest till I learn who I am.''
　　``I can understand your feelings, Frank, but I mustdefer the explanation till to-morrow. I have fatiguedmyself with talking. but to-morrow you shallknow all that I can tell you.''
　　``Forgive me for not thinking of your being tired,mother,'' and he bent over and pressed his lips uponthe cheek of the sick woman. ``But don't talk anymore. Wait till to-morrow.''
　　In the afternoon Frank had a call from Sam Pomeroy.
　　``The club is to play to-morrow afternoon againsta picked nine, Frank,'' he said. ``Will you be there?''
　　``I can't, Sam,'' he answered. ``My mother is verysick, and it is my duty to stay at home with her.''
　　``We shall miss you--that is, all of us but one.
　　Tom Pinkerton said yesterday that you ought toresign, as you can't attend to your duties. Hewouldn't object to filling your place, I fancy.''
　　``He is welcome to the place as soon as the clubfeels like electing him,'' said Frank. ``Tell the boysI am sorry I can't be on hand. They had better getyou to fill my place.''
　　``I'll mention it, but I don't think they'll see it inthat light. They're all jealous of my superior playing,''
　　said Sam, humorously. ``Well, good-bye, Frank.
　　I hope your mother'll be better soon.''
　　``Thank you, Sam,'' answered Frank, soberly. ``Ihope so, too, but she is very sick.''
　　The next day Mrs. Fowler again called Frank tothe bedside.
　　``Grace is gone out on an errand,'' she said, ``andI can find no better time for telling you what I knowabout you and the circumstances which led to myassuming the charge of you.''
　　``Are you strong enough, mother?''
　　``Yes, Frank. Thirteen years ago my husband andmyself occupied a small tenement in that part ofBrooklyn know as Gowanus, not far from GreenwoodCemetery. My husband was a carpenter, andthough his wages were small he was generallyemployed. We had been married three years, but hadno children of our own. Our expenses were small,and we got on comfortably, and should have continuedto do so, but that Mr. Fowler met with anaccident which partially disabled him. He fell froma high scaffold and broke his arm. This was setand he was soon able to work again, but he mustalso have met with some internal injury, for his fullstrength never returned. Half a day's work tiredhim more than a whole day's work formerly haddone. Of course our income was very much diminished,and we were obliged to economize very closely.
　　This preyed upon my husband's mind and seeing hisanxiety, I set about considering how I could helphim, and earn my share of the expenses.
　　``One day in looking over the advertising columnsof a New York paper I saw the following advertisement:
　　`` `For adoption--A healthy male infant. The parentsare able to pay liberally for the child's maintenance,but circumstances compel them to delegatethe care to another. Address for interview A. M.'
　　``I had no sooner read this advertisement than Ifelt that it was just what I wanted. A liberalcompensation was promised, and under our presentcircumstances would be welcome, as it was urgentlyneeded. I mentioned the matter to my husband, andhe was finally induced to give his consent.
　　``Accordingly, I replied to the advertisement.
　　``Three days passed in which I heard nothing fromit. But as we were sitting at the supper table atsix o'clock one afternoon, there came a knock at ourfront door. I opened it, and saw before me a tallstranger, a man of about thirty-five, of darkcomplexion, and dark whiskers. He was well dressed,and evidently a gentleman in station.
　　`` `Is this Mrs. Fowler?' he asked.
　　`` `Yes, sir,' I answered, in some surprise`` `Then may I beg permission to enter your housefor a few minutes? I have something to say to you.'
　　``Still wondering, I led the way into the sitting-room, where your father--where Mr. Fowler----''
　　``Call him my father--I know no other,'' saidFrank.
　　``Where your father was seated.
　　`` `You have answered an advertisement,' said thestranger.
　　`` `Yes, sir,' I replied.
　　`` `I am A. M.,' was his next announcement. `Ofcourse I have received many letters, but on the wholeI was led to consider yours most favorably. I havemade inquiries about you in the neighborhood, andthe answers have been satisfactory. You have nochildren of your own?'
　　`` `No, sir.'
　　`` `All the better. You would be able to give moreattention to this child.'
　　`` `Is it yours, sir?' I asked`` `Ye-es,' he answered, with hesitation.
　　`Circumstances,' he continued, `circumstances which I neednot state, compel me to separate from it. Five hundreddollars a year will be paid for its maintenance.'
　　``Five hundred dollars! I heard this with joy, forit was considerably more than my husband was ableto earn since his accident. It would make uscomfortable at once, and your father might work whenhe pleased, without feeling any anxiety about ourcoming to want.
　　`` `Will that sum be satisfactory?' asked thestranger.
　　`` `It is very liberal,' I answered.
　　`` `I intended it to be so,' he said. `Since there isno difficulty on this score, I am inclined to trust youwith the care of the child. But I must make twoconditions.'
　　`` `What are they, sir?'
　　`` `In the first place, you must not try to find outthe friends of the child. They do not desire to beknown. Another thing, you must move from Brooklyn.'
　　`` `Move from Brooklyn?' I repeated.
　　`` `Yes,' he answered, firmly. `I do not think itnecessary to give you a reason for this condition.
　　Enough that it is imperative. If you decline, ournegotiations are at an end.'
　　``I looked at my husband. He seemed as muchsurprised as I was.
　　`` `Perhaps you will wish to consult together,'
　　suggested our visitor. `If so, I can give you twentyminutes. I will remain in this room while you goout and talk it over.'
　　``We acted on this hint, and went into the kitchen.
　　We decided that though we should prefer to live inBrooklyn, it would be worth our while to make thesacrifice for the sake of the addition to our income.
　　We came in at the end of ten minutes, and announcedour decision. Our visitor seemed to be very muchpleased.
　　`` `Where would you wish us to move?' asked yourfather.
　　`` `I do not care to designate any particular place.
　　I should prefer some small country town, from fiftyto a hundred miles distant. I suppose you will beable to move soon?'
　　`` `Yes, sir; we will make it a point to do so. Howsoon will the child be placed in our hands? Shallwe send for it?'
　　`` `No, no,' he said, hastily. `I cannot tell youexactly when, but it will be brought here probably inthe course of a day or two. I myself shall bring it,and if at that time you wish to say anything additionalyou can do so.'
　　``He went away, leaving us surprised and somewhatexcited at the change that was to take place inour lives. The next evening the sound of wheels washeard, and a hack stopped at our gate. The samegentleman descended hurriedly with a child in hisarms--you were the child, Frank--and entered thehouse.
　　`` `This is the child,' he said, placing it in my arms,`and here is the first quarterly installment of yourpay. Three months hence you will receive the samesum from my agent in New York. Here is his address,'
　　and he placed a card in my hands. `Haveyou anything to ask?'
　　`` `Suppose I wish to communicate with you respectingthe child? Suppose he is sick?'
　　`` `Then write to A. M., care of Giles Warner, No.
　　---- Nassau Street. By the way, it will be necessaryfor you to send him your postoffice address afteryour removal in order that he may send you yourquarterly dues.'
　　``With this he left us, entered the hack, and droveoff. I have never seen him since.''
Chapter 3
      Frank listened to this revelation with wonder.
　　For the first time in his life he asked himself, ``Whoam I?''
　　``How came I by my name, mother?'' he asked.
　　``I must tell you. After the sudden departure ofthe gentleman who brought you, we happened tothink that we had not asked your name. We accordinglywrote to the address which had been given us,making the inquiry. In return we received a slipof paper containing these words: `The name isimmaterial; give him any name you please. A. M.' ''
　　``You gave me the name of Frank.''
　　``It was Mr. Fowler's name. We should have givenit to you had you been our own boy; as the choicewas left to us, we selected that.''
　　``It suits me as well as any other. How soon didyou leave Brooklyn, mother?''
　　``In a week we had made all arrangements, andremoved to this place. It is a small place, but itfurnished as much work as my husband felt able todo. With the help of the allowance for your support,we not only got on comfortably, but saved up a hundredand fifty dollars annually, which we depositedin a savings bank. But after five years the moneystopped coming. It was the year 1857, the year ofthe great panic, and among others who failed wasGiles Warner's agent, from whom we received ourpayments. Mr. Fowler went to New York to inquireabout it, but only learned that Mr. Warner, weigheddown by his troubles, had committed suicide, leavingno clew to the name of the man who left you withus.''
　　``How long ago was that, mother?''
　　``Seven years ago nearly eight.''
　　``And you continued to keep me, though thepayments stopped.''
　　``Certainly; you were as dear to us as our ownchild--for we now had a child of our own--Grace.
　　We should as soon have thought of casting off heras you.''
　　``But you must have been poor, mother.''
　　``We were economical, and we got along till yourfather died three years ago. Since then it has beenhard work.''
　　``You have had a hard time, mother.''
　　``No harder on your account. You have been agreat comfort to me, Frank. I am only anxious forthe future. I fear you and Grace will suffer after Iam gone.''
　　``Don't fear, mother, I am young and strong; Iam not afraid to face the world with God's help.''
　　``What are you thinking of, Frank?'' asked Mrs.
　　Fowler, noticing the boy's fixed look.
　　``Mother,'' he said, earnestly, ``I mean to seek forthat man you have told me of. I want to find outwho I am. Do you think he was my father?''
　　``He said he was, but I do not believe it. Hespoke with hesitation, and said this to deceive us,probably.''
　　``I am glad you think so, I would not like to thinkhim my father. From what you have told me ofhim I am sure I would not like him.''
　　``He must be nearly fifty now--dark complexion,with dark hair and whiskers. I am afraid thatdescription will not help you any. There are manymen who look like that. I should know him by hisexpression, but I cannot describe that to you.''
　　Here Mrs. Fowler was seized with a very severefit of coughing, and Frank begged her to say nomore.
　　Two days later, and Mrs. Fowler was no better.
　　She was rapidly failing, and no hope was entertainedthat she would rally. She herself felt that deathwas near at hand and told Frank so, but he foundit hard to believe.
　　On the second of the two days, as he was returningfrom the village store with an orange for hismother, he was overtaken by Sam Pomeroy.
　　``Is your mother very sick, Frank?'' he asked.
　　``Yes, Sam, I'm afraid she won't live.''
　　``Is it so bad as that? I do believe,'' he added, witha sudden change of tone, ``Tom Pinkerton is themeanest boy I ever knew. He is trying to get yourplace as captain of the baseball club. He says thatif your mother doesn't live, you will have to go tothe poorhouse, for you won't have any money, andthat it will be a disgrace for the club to have acaptain from the poorhouse.''
　　``Did he say that?'' asked Frank, indignantly.
　　``Yes.''
　　``When he tells you that, you may say that I shallnever go to the poorhouse.''
　　``He says his father is going to put you and yoursister there.''
　　``All the Deacon Pinkertons in the world can nevermake me go to the poorhouse!'' said Frank, resolutely.
　　``Bully for you, Frank! I knew you had spunk.''
　　Frank hurried home. As he entered the littlehouse a neighbor's wife, who had been watchingwith his mother, came to meet him.
　　``Frank,'' she said, gravely, ``you must prepareyourself for sad news. While you were out yourmother had another hemorrhage, and--and--''
　　``Is she dead?'' asked the boy, his face very pale.
　　``She is dead!''
Chapter 4
      ``The Widder Fowler is dead,'' remarked DeaconPinkerton, at the supper table. ``She died this afternoon.''
　　``I suppose she won't leave anything,'' said Mrs.
　　Pinkerton.
　　``No. I hold a mortgage on her furniture, and thatis all she has.''
　　``What will become of the children?''
　　``As I observed, day before yesterday, they will beconstrained to find a refuge in the poorhouse.''
　　``What do you think Sam Pomeroy told me,father?''
　　``I am not able to conjecture what Samuel wouldbe likely to observe, my son.''
　　``He observed that Frank Fowler said he wouldn'tgo to the poorhouse.''
　　``Ahem!'' coughed the deacon. ``The boy will notbe consulted.''
　　``That's what I say, father,'' said Tom, who desiredto obtain his father's co-operation. ``You'll makehim go to the poorhouse, won't you?''
　　``I shall undoubtedly exercise my authority, if itshould be necessary, my son.''
　　``He told Sam Pomeroy that all the Deacon Pinkertonsin the world couldn't make him go to the poorhouse.''
　　``I will constrain him,'' said the deacon.
　　``I would if I were you, father,'' said Tom, elatedat the effect of his words. ``Just teach him a lesson.''
　　``Really, deacon, you mustn't be too hard upon thepoor boy,'' said his better-hearted wife. ``He's gottrouble enough on him.''
　　``I will only constrain him for his good, Jane. Inthe poorhouse he will be well provided for.''
　　Meanwhile another conversation respecting ourhero and his fortunes was held at Sam Pomeroy'shome. It was not as handsome as the deacon's, forMr. Pomeroy was a poor man, but it was a happyone, nevertheless, and Mr. Pomeroy, limited as werehis means, was far more liberal than the deacon.
　　``I pity Frank Fowler,'' said Sam, who was warm-hearted and sympathetic, and a strong friend ofFrank. ``I don't know what he will do.''
　　``I suppose his mother left nothing.''
　　``I understood,'' said Mr. Pomeroy, ``that DeaconPinkerton holds a mortgage on her furniture.''
　　``The deacon wants to send Frank and his sisterto the poorhouse.''
　　``That would be a pity.''
　　``I should think so; but Frank positively says hewon't go.''
　　``I am afraid there isn't anything else for him.
　　To be sure, he may get a chance to work in a shopor on a farm, but Grace can't support herself.''
　　``Father, I want to ask you a favor.''
　　``What is it, Sam?''
　　``Won't you invite Frank and his sister to comeand stay here a week?''
　　``Just as your mother says.''
　　``I say yes. The poor children will be quitewelcome. If we were rich enough they might stay withus all the time.''
　　``When Frank comes here I will talk over hisaffairs with him,'' said Mr. Pomeroy. ``Perhaps wecan think of some plan for him.''
　　``I wish you could, father.''
　　``In the meantime, you can invite him and Graceto come and stay with us a week, or a fortnight.
　　Shall we say a fortnight, wife?''
　　``With all my heart.''
　　``All right, father. Thank you.''
　　Sam delivered the invitation in a way that showedhow strongly his own feelings were enlisted in favorof its acceptance. Frank grasped his hand.
　　``Thank you, Sam, you are a true friend,'' he said.
　　``I hadn't begun to think of what we were to do,Grace and I.''
　　``You'll come, won't you?''
　　``You are sure that it won't trouble your mother,Sam?''
　　``She is anxious to have you come.''
　　``Then I'll come. I haven't formed any plans yet,but I must as soon--as soon as mother is buried.
　　I think I can earn my living somehow. One thingI am determined about--I won't go to the poorhouse.''
　　The funeral was over. Frank and Grace walkedback to the little house, now their home no longer.
　　They were to pack up a little bundle of clothes andgo over to Mr. Pomeroy's in time for supper.
　　When Frank had made up his bundle, urged bysome impulse, he opened a drawer in his mother'sbureau. His mind was full of the story she hadtold him, and he thought it just possible that hemight find something to throw additional light uponhis past history. While exploring the contents ofthe drawer he came to a letter directed to him inhis mother's well-known handwriting. He openedit hastily, and with a feeling of solemnity, read asfollows:
　　``My Dear Frank: In the lower drawer, wrappedin a piece of brown paper, you will find two goldeagles, worth twenty dollars. You will need themwhen I am gone. Use them for Grace and yourself.
　　I saved these for my children. Take them, Frank,for I have nothing else to give you. The furniturewill pay the debt I owe Deacon Pinkerton. Thereought to be something over, but I think he will takeall. I wish I had more to leave you, dear Frank,but the God of the Fatherless will watch over you--to Him I commit you and Grace. Your affectionatemother, RUTH FOWLER.''
　　Frank, following the instructions of the letter,found the gold pieces and put them carefully intohis pocketbook. He did not mention the letter toGrace at present, for he knew not but Deacon Pinkertonmight lay claim to the money to satisfy his debtif he knew it.
　　``I am ready, Frank,'' said Grace, entering theroom. ``Shall we go?''
　　``Yes, Grace. There is no use in stopping here anylonger.''
　　As he spoke he heard the outer door open, and aminute later Deacon Pinkerton entered the room.
　　None of the deacon's pompousness was abated ashe entered the house and the room.
　　``Will you take a seat?'' said our hero, with theair of master of the house.
　　``I intended to,'' said the deacon, not acknowledginghis claim. ``So your poor mother is gone?''
　　``Yes, sir,'' said Frank, briefly.
　　``We must all die,'' said the deacon, feeling that itwas incumbent on him to say something religious.
　　``Ahem! your mother died poor? She left no property?''
　　``It was not her fault.''
　　``Of course not. Did she mention that I hadadvanced her money on the furniture?''
　　``My mother told me all about it, sir.''
　　``Ahem! You are in a sad condition. But you willbe taken care of. You ought to be thankful thatthere is a home provided for those who have nomeans.''
　　``What home do you refer to, Deacon Pinkerton?''
　　asked Frank, looking steadily in the face of his visitor.
　　``I mean the poorhouse, which the town generouslyprovides for those who cannot support themselves.''
　　This was the first intimation Grace had receivedof the possibility that they would be sent to such ahome, and it frightened her.
　　``Oh, Frank!'' she exclaimed, ``must we go to thepoorhouse?''
　　``No, Grace; don't be frightened,'' said Frank,soothingly. ``We will not go.''
　　``Frank Fowler,'' said the deacon, sternly, ``ceaseto mislead your sister.''
　　``I am not misleading her, sir.''
　　``Did you not tell her that she would not be obligedto go to the poorhouse?''
　　``Yes, sir.''
　　``Then what do you mean by resisting my authority?''
　　``You have no authority over us. We are not paupers,''
　　and Frank lifted his head proudly, and lookedsteadily in the face of the deacon.
　　``You are paupers, whether you admit it or not.''
　　``We are not,'' said the boy, indignantly.
　　``Where is your money? Where is your property?''
　　``Here, sir,'' said our hero, holding out his hands.
　　``I have two strong hands, and they will help memake a living for my sister and myself.''
　　``May I ask whether you expect to live here anduse my furniture?''
　　``I do not intend to, sir. I shall ask no favors ofyou, neither for Grace nor myself. I am going toleave the house. I only came back to get a fewclothes. Mr. Pomeroy has invited Grace and me tostay at his house for a few days. I haven't decidedwhat I shall do afterward.''
　　``You will have to go to the poorhouse, then. Ihave no objection to your making this visit first. Itwill be a saving to the town.''
　　``Then, sir, we will bid you good-day. Grace, letus go.''
Chapter 5
      ``Have you carried Frank Fowler to thepoorhouse?'' asked Tom Pinkerton, eagerly, on hisfather's return.
　　``No, said the deacon, ``he is going to make a visitat Mr. Pomeroy's first.''
　　``I shouldn't think you would have let him makea visit,'' said Tom, discontentedly. ``I should thinkyou would have taken him to the poorhouse rightoff.''
　　``I feel it my duty to save the town unnecessaryexpense,'' said Deacon Pinkerton.
　　So Tom was compelled to rest satisfied with hisfather's assurance that the removal was only deferred.
　　Meanwhile Frank and Grace received a cordialwelcome at the house of Mr. Pomeroy. Sam and Frankwere intimate friends, and our hero had been in thehabit of calling frequently, and it seemed homelike.
　　``I wish you could stay with us all the time, Frank--you and Grace,'' said Sam one evening.
　　``We should all like it,'' said Mr. Pomeroy, ``but wecannot always have what we want. If I had it in mypower to offer Frank any employment which itwould be worth his while to follow, it might do. Buthe has got his way to make in the world. Have youformed any plans yet, Frank?''
　　``That is what I want to consult you about, Mr.
　　Pomeroy.''
　　``I will give you the best advice I can, Frank. Isuppose you do not mean to stay in the village.''
　　``No, sir. There is nothing for me to do here. Imust go somewhere where I can make a living forGrace and myself.''
　　``You've got a hard row to hoe, Frank,'' said Mr.
　　Pomeroy, thoughtfully. ``Have you decided where togo?''
　　``Yes, sir. I shall go to New York.''
　　``What! To the city?''
　　``Yes, sir. I'll get something to do, no matterwhat it is.''
　　``But how are you going to live in the meantime?''
　　``I've got a little money.''
　　``That won't last long.''
　　``I know it, but I shall soon get work, if it is onlyto black boots in the streets.''
　　``With that spirit, Frank, you will stand a fairchance to succeed. What do you mean to do withGrace?''
　　``I will take her with me.''
　　``I can think of a better plan. Leave her here tillyou have found something to do. Then send for her.''
　　``But if I leave her here Deacon Pinkerton willwant to put her in the poorhouse. I can't bear tohave Grace go there.''
　　``She need not. She can stay here with me forthree months.''
　　``Will you let me pay her board?''
　　``I can afford to give her board for three months.''
　　``You are very kind, Mr. Pomeroy, but it wouldn'tbe right for me to accept your kindness. It is myduty to take care of Grace.''
　　``I honor your independence, Frank. It shall beas you say. When you are able-mind, not till then--you may pay me at the rate of two dollars a weekfor Grace's board.''
　　``Then,'' said Frank, ``if you are willing to boardGrace for a while, I think I had better go to the cityat once.''
　　``I will look over your clothes to-morrow, Frank,''
　　said Mrs. Pomeroy, ``and see if they need mending.''
　　``Then I will start Thursday morning--the dayafter.''
　　About four o'clock the next afternoon he was walkingup the main street, when just in front of DeaconPinkerton's house he saw Tom leaning against atree.
　　``How are you Tom?'' he said, and was about topass on.
　　``Where are you going?'' Tom asked abruptly.
　　``To Mr. Pomeroy's.''
　　``How soon are you going to the poorhouse tolive?''
　　``Who told you I was going?''
　　``My father.''
　　``Then your father's mistaken.''
　　``Ain't you a pauper?'' said Tom, insolently. ``Youhaven't got any money.''
　　``I have got hands to earn money, and I am goingto try.''
　　``Anyway, I advise you to resign as captain of thebaseball club.''
　　``Why?''
　　``Because if you don't you'll be kicked out. Doyou think the fellows will be willing to have a pauperfor their captain?''
　　``That's the second time you have called me apauper. Don't call me so again.''
　　``You are a pauper and you know it.''
　　Frank was not a quarrelsome boy, but thisrepeated insult was too much for him. He seized Tomby the collar, and tripping him up left him on theground howling with rage. As valor was not hisstrong point, he resolved to be revenged upon Frankvicariously. He was unable to report the case to hisfather till the next morning, as the deacon did notreturn from a neighboring village, whither he hadgone on business, till late, but the result of hiscommunication was a call at Mr. Pomeroy's from thedeacon at nine o'clock the next morning. Had hefound Frank, it was his intention, at Tom's request,to take him at once to the poorhouse. But he wastoo late. Our hero was already on his way to NewYork.
Chapter 6
      ``So this is New York,'' said Frank to himself, ashe emerged from the railway station and lookedabout him with interest and curiosity.
　　``Black yer boots? Shine?'' asked a bootblack,seeing our hero standing still.
　　Frank looked at his shoes. They were dirty,without doubt, but he would not have felt disposed to beso extravagant, considering his limited resources,had he not felt it necessary to obtain some informationabout the city.
　　``Yes,'' he said, ``you may black them.''
　　The boy was on his knees instantly and at work.
　　``How much do you make in a day?'' asked Frank.
　　``When it's a good day I make a dollar.''
　　``That's pretty good,'' said Frank.
　　``Can you show me the way to Broadway?''
　　``Go straight ahead.''
　　Our hero paid for his shine and started in thedirection indicated.
　　Frank's plans, so far as he had any, were to getinto a store. He knew that Broadway was the principalbusiness street in the city, and this was aboutall he did know about it.
　　He reached the great thoroughfare in a fewminutes, and was fortunate enough to find on the windowof the corner store the sign:
　　``A Boy Wanted.''
　　He entered at once, and going up to the counter,addressed a young man, who was putting up goods.
　　``Do you want a boy?''
　　``I believe the boss wants one; I don't. Go out tothat desk.''
　　Frank found the desk, and propounded the samequestion to a sandy-whiskered man, who looked upfrom his writing.
　　``You're prompt,'' he said. ``That notice was onlyput out two minutes ago.''
　　``I only saw it one minute ago.''
　　``So you want the place, do you?''
　　``I should like it.''
　　``Do you know your way about the city?''
　　``No, sir, but I could soon find out.''
　　``That won't do. I shall have plenty ofapplications from boys who live in the city and are familiarwith the streets.''
　　Frank left the store rather discomfited.
　　He soon came to another store where there was asimilar notice of ``A Boy Wanted.'' It was a drygoods store.
　　``Do you live with your parents?'' was asked.
　　``My parents are dead,'' said Frank, sadly.
　　``Very sorry, but we can't take you.''
　　``Why not, sir?''
　　``In case you took anything we should make yourparents responsible.''
　　``I shouldn't take anything,'' said Frank, indignantly.
　　``You might; I can't take you.''
　　Our hero left this store a little disheartened by hissecond rebuff.
　　He made several more fruitless applications, butdid not lose courage wholly. He was gaining an appetite,however. It is not surprising therefore, thathis attention was drawn to the bills of a restauranton the opposite side of the street. He crossed over,and standing outside, began to examine them to seewhat was the scale of prices. While in this positionhe was suddenly aroused by a slap on the back.
　　Turning he met the gaze of a young man of aboutthirty, who was smiling quite cordially.
　　``Why, Frank, my boy, how are you?'' he said,offering his hand.
　　``Pretty well, thank you,'' said our hero bewildered,for he had no recollection of the man who had calledhim by name.
　　The other smiled a little more broadly, andthought:
　　``It was a lucky guess; his name is Frank.''
　　``I am delighted to hear it,'' he continued. ``Whendid you reach the city?''
　　``This morning,'' said the unsuspecting Frank.
　　``Well, it's queer I happened to meet you so soon,isn't it? Going to stay long?''
　　``I shall, if I can get a place.''
　　``Perhaps I can help you.''
　　``I suppose I ought to remember you,'' venturedour hero, ``but I can't think of your name.''
　　``Jasper Wheelock. You don't mean to say youdon't remember me? Perhaps it isn't strange, aswe only met once or twice in your country home.
　　But that doesn't matter. I'm just as ready to helpyou. By the way, have you dined?''
　　``No.''
　　``No more have I. Come in and dine with me.''
　　``What'll you take?'' asked Jasper Wheelock,passing the bill of fare to Frank.
　　``I think I should like to have some roast beef,''
　　said Frank.
　　``That will suit me. Here, waiter, two plates ofroast beef, and two cups of coffee.''
　　``How are they all at home?'' asked Jasper.
　　``My mother has just died.''
　　``You don't say so,'' said Jasper, sympathetically.
　　``My sister is well.''
　　``I forgot your sister's name.''
　　``Grace.''
　　``Of course--Grace. I find it hard to remembernames. The fact is, I have been trying to recall yourlast name, but it's gone from me.''
　　``Fowler.''
　　``To be sure Frank Fowler. How could I be soforgetful.''
　　The conversation was interrupted by the arrivalof the coffee and roast beet, which both he and hisnew friend attacked with vigor.
　　``What kind of pudding will you have?'' askedthe stranger.
　　``Apple dumpling,'' said Frank.
　　``That suits me. Apple dumpling for two.''
　　In due time the apple dumpling was disposed of,and two checks were brought, amounting to seventycents.
　　``I'll pay for both,'' said Jasper. ``No thanks. Weare old acquaintances, you know.''
　　He put his hand into his pocket, and quicklywithdrew it with an exclamation of surprise:
　　``Well, if that isn't a good joke,'' he said. ``I'veleft my money at home. I remember now, I left itin the pocket of my other coat. I shall have toborrow the money of you. You may as well hand me adollar!''
　　Frank was not disposed to be suspicious, but therequest for money made him uneasy. Still thereseemed no way of refusing, and he reluctantly drewout the money.
　　His companion settled the bill and then led theway into the street.
　　Jasper Wheelock was not very scrupulous; he wasquite capable of borrowing money, without intendingto return it; but he had his good side.
　　``Frank,'' said he, as they found themselves in thestreet, ``you have done me a favor, and I am goingto help you in return. Have you got very muchmoney?''
　　``No. I had twenty dollars when I left home, butI had to pay my fare in the cars and the dinner, Ihave seventeen dollars and a half left.''
　　``Then it is necessary for you to get a place assoon as possible.''
　　``Yes; I have a sister to support; Grace, you know.''
　　``No, I don't know. The fact is, Frank, I havebeen imposing upon you. I never saw you before inthe whole course of my life.''
　　``What made you say you knew me?''
　　``I wanted to get a dinner out of you. Don't betroubled, though; I'll pay back the money. I've beenout of a place for three or four weeks, but I enterupon one the first of next week. For the rest of theweek I've got nothing to do, and I will try to get youa place.
　　``The first thing is to get a room somewhere. I'lltell you what, you may have part of my room.''
　　``Is it expensive?''
　　``No; I pay a dollar and a half a week. I thinkthe old lady won't charge more than fifty cents extrafor you.''
　　``Then my share would be a dollar.''
　　``You may pay only fifty cents. I'll keep on payingwhat I do now. My room is on Sixth Avenue.''
　　They had some distance to walk. Finally Jasperhalted before a baker's shop.
　　``It's over this,'' he said.
　　He drew out a latch-key and entered.
　　``This is my den,'' he said. It isn't large youcan't get any better for the money.''
　　``I shall have to be satisfied,'' said Frank. ``I wantto get along as cheap as I can.''
　　``I've got to economize myself for a short time.
　　After this week I shall earn fifteen dollars a week.''
　　``What business are you in, Mr. Wheelock?''
　　``I am a journeyman printer. It is a very goodbusiness, and I generally have steady work. I expectto have after I get started again. Now, shall Igive you some advice?''
　　``I wish you would.''
　　``You don't know your way around New York.
　　I believe I have a map somewhere. I'll just showyou on it the position of the principal streets, andthat will give you a clearer idea of where we go.''
　　The map was found and Jasper explained to Frankthe leading topographical features of the Island City.
　　One thing only was wanting now to make himcontented, and this was employment. But it was toolate to make any further inquiries.
　　``I've been thinking, Frank,'' said Jasper, the nextmorning, ``that you might get the position as a cash-boy.''
　　``What does a cash-boy do?''
　　``In large retail establishments every salesmankeeps a book in which his sales are entered. Hedoes not himself make change, for it would not doto have so many having access to the money-drawer.
　　The money is carried to the cashier's desk by boysemployed for the purpose, who return with thechange.''
　　``Do you think I can get a situation as cash-boy?''
　　``I will try at Gilbert & Mack's. I know one ofthe principal salesmen. If there is a vacancy hewill get it for you to oblige me.''
　　They entered a large retail store on Broadway.
　　It was broad and spacious. Twenty salesmen stoodbehind the counter, and boys were running this wayand that with small books in their hands.
　　``How are you, Duncan?'' said Jasper.
　　The person addressed was about Jasper Wheelock'sage. He had a keen, energetic look and manner,and would be readily singled out as one of theleading clerks.
　　``All right, Wheelock. How are you?'' heresponded. ``Do you want anything in our line?''
　　``No goods; I want a place for this youngster. He'sa friend of mine. I'll answer for his good character.''
　　``That will be satisfactory. But what sort of aplace does he want?''
　　``He is ready to begin as cash-boy.''
　　``Then we can oblige you, as one of our boys hasfallen sick, and we have not supplied his place. I'llspeak to Mr. Gilbert.''
　　He went up to Mr. Gilbert, a portly man in theback part of the store. Mr. Gilbert seemed to beasking two or three questions. Frank waited theresult in suspense, dreading another disappointment,but this time he was fortunate.
　　``The boy can stay,'' reported Duncan. ``Hiswages are three dollars a week.''
　　It was not much, but Frank was well pleased tofeel that at last he had a place in the city.
　　He wrote a letter to Grace in the evening,announcing his success, and expressing the hope that hewould soon be able to send for her.
Chapter 7
      Four weeks passed. The duties of a cash-boy aresimple enough, and Frank had no difficulty in dischargingthem satisfactorily. At first he found ittiresome, being on his feet all day, for the cash-boyswere not allowed to sit down, but he got used tothis, being young and strong.
　　All this was very satisfactory, but one thing gaveFrank uneasiness. His income was very inadequateto his wants.
　　``What makes you so glum, Frank?'' asked JasperWheelock one evening.
　　``Do I look glum?'' said Frank. ``I was onlythinking how I could earn more money. You knowhow little I get. I can hardly take care of myself,much less take care of Grace.''
　　``I can lend you some money, Frank. Thanks toyour good advice, I have got some laid up.''
　　``Thank you, Jasper, but that wouldn't helpmatters. I should owe you the money, and I don't knowhow I could pay you.''
　　``About increasing your income, I really don'tknow,'' said Jasper. ``I am afraid Gilbert & Mackwouldn't raise your wages.''
　　``I don't expect it. All the rest of the cash-boyswould ask the same thing.''
　　``True; still I know they are very well pleasedwith you. Duncan told me you did more work thanany of the rest of the boys.''
　　``I try to do all I can.''
　　``He said you would make a good salesman, hethought. Of course you are too young for that yet.''
　　``I suppose I am.''
　　``Frank, I am earning fifteen dollars a week, youknow, and I can get along on ten, but of the five Isave let me give you two. I shall never feel it, andby and by when you are promoted it won't be necessary.''
　　``Jasper, you are a true friend,'' said Frank,warmly; ``but it wouldn't be right for me to acceptyour kind offer, though I shan't forget it. You havebeen a good friend to me.''
　　``And you to me, Frank. I'll look out for you.
　　Perhaps I may hear of something for you.''
　　Small as Frank's income was, he had managed tolive within it. It will be remembered that he hadpaid but fifty cents a week for a room. By greateconomy he had made his meals cost but two dollarsa week, so that out of his three dollars he savedfifty cents. But this saving would not be sufficientto pay for his clothes. However, he had had nooccasion to buy any as yet, and his little fundaltogether amounted to twenty dollars. Of this sum heinclosed{sic} eight dollars to Mr. Pomeroy to pay for fourweeks' board for Grace.
　　``I hope I shall be able to keep it up,'' he said tohimself, thoughtfully. ``At any rate, I've got enoughto pay for six weeks more. Before that time somethingmay turn up.''
　　Several days passed without showing Frank anyway by which he could increase his income. Jasperagain offered to give him two dollars a week out ofhis own wages, but this our hero steadily refused.
　　One Friday evening, just as the store was aboutto close, the head salesman called Frank to him.
　　``Where do you live?'' he asked.
　　``In Sixth avenue, near Twenty-fifth street.''
　　``There's a bundle to go to Forty-sixth street. I'llpay your fare upon the stage if you'll carry it. Ipromised to send it to-night, and I don't like todisappoint the lady.''
　　``I can carry it just as well as not.''
　　Frank took the bundle, and got on board a passingomnibus. There was just one seat vacant beside anold gentleman of seventy, who appeared to be quitefeeble.
　　At Forty-fifth street he pulled the strap andprepared to descend, leaning heavily on his cane as hedid so. By some mischance the horses started alittle too soon and the old man, losing his footing,fell in the street. Frank observed the accident andsprang out instantly to his help.
　　``I hope you are not much hurt, sir?'' he said, hastily.
　　``I have hurt my knee,'' said the old gentleman.
　　``Let me assist you, sir,'' said Frank, helping himup.
　　``Thank you, my boy. I live at number forty-five,close by. If you will lead me to the door and intothe house I shall be much indebted to you.''
　　``Certainly, sir. It is no trouble to me.''
　　With slow step, supported by our hero, the oldgentleman walked to his own door.
　　It was opened by a maid servant, who looked withsome surprise at Frank.
　　``I fell, Mary,'' explained her master, ``and thisyoung gentleman has kindly helped me home.''
　　``Did you hurt yourself much, sir?''
　　``Not seriously.''
　　``Can I do anything more for you, sir?'' askedFrank.
　　``Come in a moment.''
　　Our hero followed his new acquaintance into ahandsomely furnished parlor.
　　``Now, my young friend tell me if you have beentaken out of your way by your attention to me?''
　　``Oh, no, sir; I intended to get out at the nextstreet.''
　　``My dinner is just ready. Won't you stop anddine with me?''
　　``Thank you, sir,'' he said, hesitatingly, ``but Ipromised to carry this bundle. I believe it is wantedat once.''
　　``So you shall. You say the house is in the nextstreet. You can go and return in five minutes. Youhave done me a service, and I may have it in mypower to do something for you in return.''
　　``Perhaps,'' thought Frank, ``he can help me tosome employment for my evenings.'' Then, aloud:
　　``Thank you, sir; I will come.''
　　Five minutes later Frank was ushered into ahandsome dining-room. The dinner was already onthe table, but chairs were only set for three. Theone at the head of the table was of course occupiedby the old gentleman, the one opposite by Mrs. Bradley,his housekeeper, and one at the side was placedfor Frank.
　　``Mrs. Bradley,'' said the old gentleman, ``this isa young gentleman who was kind enough to help mehome after the accident of which I just spoke to you.
　　I would mention his name, but I must leave that tohim.''
　　``Frank Fowler, sir.''
　　``And my name is Wharton. Now that we are allintroduced, we can talk more freely.''
　　``Will you have some soup, Mr. Fowler?'' asked thehousekeeper.
　　She was a tall thin woman, with a reservedmanner that was somewhat repellant. She had onlynodded slightly at the introduction, fixing her eyescoldly and searchingly on the face of our hero. Itwas evident that whatever impression the servicerendered might have made upon the mind of Mr.
　　Wharton, it was not calculated to warm thehousekeeper to cordiality.
　　``Thank you,'' he answered, but he could not helpfeeling at the same time that Mrs. Bradley was nota very agreeable woman.
　　``You ought to have a good appetite,'' said Mr.
　　Wharton. ``You have to work hard during the day.
　　Our young friend is a cash-boy at Gilbert & Mack's,Mrs. Bradley.
　　``Oh, indeed!'' said Mrs. Bradley, arching herbrows as much as to say: ``You have invited strangecompany to dinner.''
　　``Do your parents live in the city, Frank--Ibelieve your name is Frank?''
　　``No, sir; they are dead. My mother died only afew weeks since.''
　　``And have you no brothers and sisters?''
　　``I have one sister--Grace.''
　　``I suppose she is in the city here with you?''
　　``No, sir. I left her in the country. I am herealone.''
　　``I will ask you more about yourself after dinner.
　　If you have no engagement, I should like to haveyou stay with me a part of the evening.''
　　``Thank you, sir.''
　　Frank accepted the invitation, though he knewJasper would wonder what had become of him. Hesaw that the old gentleman was kindly disposedtoward him, and in his present circumstances he neededsuch a friend.
　　But in proportion as Mr. Wharton became morecordial, Mrs. Bradley became more frosty, until atlast the old gentleman noticed her manner.
　　``Don't you feel well this evening, Mrs Bradley?''
　　he asked.
　　``I have a little headache,'' said the housekeeper,coldly.
　　``You had better do something for it.''
　　``It will pass away of itself, sir.''
　　They arose from the dinner table, and Mr.
　　Wharton, followed by Frank, ascended the staircase tothe front room on the second floor, which washandsomely fitted up as a library,``What makes him take such notice of a mere cash-boy?'' said Mrs. Bradley to herself. ``That boy remindsme of somebody. Who is it?''
Chapter 8
      ``Take a seat, Frank,'' said Mr. Wharton, pointingto a luxurious armchair on one side of the cheerfulgrate fire; ``I will take the other, and you shall tellme all about yourself.''
　　``Thank you, sir,'' said our hero.
　　His confidence was won by Mr. Wharton's kindtone, and he briefly recounted his story.
　　At the conclusion, Mr. Wharton said:
　　``How old are you, Frank ?''
　　``Fourteen, sir.''
　　``You are a brave boy, and a good boy, and youdeserve success.''
　　``Thank you, sir.''
　　``But I am bound to say that you have a hard taskbefore you.''
　　``I know it, sir.''
　　``Why not let your sister go to the poorhouse for afew years, till you are older, and better able toprovide for her?''
　　``I should be ashamed to do it, sir,'' he said. ``Ipromised my mother to take care of Grace, and Iwill.''
　　``How much do you earn as a cash-boy?''
　　``Three dollars a week.''
　　``Only three dollars a week! Why, that won't payyour own expenses!'' said the old gentleman in surprise.
　　``Yes, sir, it does. I pay fifty cents a week for myroom, and my meals don't cost me much.''
　　``But you will want clothes.''
　　``I have enough for the present, and I am layingup fifty cents a week to buy more when I need them.''
　　``You can't buy many for twenty-six dollars ayear. But that doesn't allow anything for yoursister's expenses.''
　　``That is what puzzles me, sir,'' said Frank, fixinga troubled glance upon the fire. ``I shall have towork in the evenings for Grace.''
　　``What can you do?''
　　``I could copy, but I suppose there isn't muchchance of getting copying to do.''
　　``Then you have a good handwriting?''
　　``Pretty fair, sir.''
　　``Let me see a specimen. There are pen and inkon the table, and here is a sheet of paper.''
　　Frank seated himself at the table, and wrote hisname on the paper.
　　``Very good,'' said his host, approvingly. ``Yourhand is good enough for a copyist, but you are correctin supposing that work of that kind is hardto get. Are you a good reader?''
　　``Do you mean in reading aloud, sir?''
　　``Yes.''
　　``I will try, if you wish.''
　　``Take a book from the table--any book--and letme hear you read.''
　　Frank opened the first book that came to hand--one of Irving's and read in a clear, unembarrassedvoice about half a page.
　　``Very good indeed!'' said Mr. Wharton. ``Youhave been well taught. Where did you attendschool?''
　　``Only in the town school, sir.''
　　``You have, at any rate, made good use of youradvantages.''
　　``But will it do me any good, sir?'' asked Frank.
　　``People are not paid for reading, are they?''
　　``Not in general, but we will suppose the case ofa person whose eyes are weak, and likely to be badlyaffected by evening use. Then suppose such a personcould secure the services of a good, clear, distinctreader, don't you think he would be willing topay something?''
　　``I suppose so. Do you know of any such person?''
　　asked Frank.
　　``I am describing myself, Frank. A year since Istrained my eyes very severely, and have never daredto use them much since by gaslight. Mrs. Bradley,my housekeeper, has read to me some, but she hasother duties, and I don't think she enjoys it verymuch. Now, why shouldn't I get you to read to mein the evening when you are not otherwise employed?''
　　``I wish you would, Mr. Wharton,'' said Frank,eagerly. ``I would do my best.''
　　``I have no doubt of that, but there is anotherquestion--perhaps you might ask a higher salarythan I could afford to pay.''
　　``Would a dollar a week be too much?'' askedFrank.
　　``I don't think I could complain of that,'' said Mr.
　　Wharton, gravely. ``Very well, I will engage you asmy reader.''
　　``Thank you, sir.''
　　``But about the pay; I have made up my mind topay you five dollars a week.''
　　``Five dollars a week!'' Frank repeated. ``It ismuch more than my services will be worth sir.''
　　``Let me judge of that, Frank.''
　　``I don't know how to thank you, sir,'' said Frank,gratefully. ``I never expected to be so rich. I shallhave no trouble in paying for Grace's board andclothes now. When do you want me to begin reading to you?''
　　``You may as well begin to-night--that is, unlessyou have some other engagement.''
　　``Oh, no, sir, I have nothing else to do.''
　　``Take the Evening Post, then, and read me theleading editorial. Afterward, I will tell you what toread.''
　　Frank had been reading about half an hour, whena knock was heard at the door.
　　``Come in,'' said Mr. Wharton.
　　Mrs. Bradley entered, with a soft, quiet step.
　　``I thought, sir,'' she began, ``you might like meto read to you, as usual.''
　　``Thank you, Mrs. Bradley, but I am going torelieve you of that portion of your labors. My youngfriend here is to come every evening and read tome.''
　　``Indeed!'' ejaculated the housekeeper in a tone ofchilly displeasure, and a sharp glance at Frank,which indicated no great amount of cordiality.
　　``Then, as I am intruding, I will take my leave.''
　　There was something in her tone that made Frankfeel uncomfortable.
Chapter 9
      ``By no means,'' said Mr. Wharton, as thehousekeeper was about to withdraw; ``don't imagine youare intruding. Come in and sit down.''
　　``Thank you, sir,'' said Mrs. Bradley, in ameasured tone. ``You are very considerate, I am sure,but if you'll excuse me, I won't come in this evening.''
　　``Mrs. Bradley has been with me a good manyyears,'' explained Mr. Wharton, ``and I dare say shefeels a little disturbed at seeing another occupy herplace, even in a duty like this.''
　　``I am afraid she will be offended with me, sir,''
　　said Frank.
　　``Oh, no; I will explain matters to her. Go onwith your reading, Frank.''
　　At half-past nine, Mr. Wharton took out his watch.
　　``It is getting late,'' he said. ``I have no doubt youare tired and need rest.''
　　``I am not tired, sir.''
　　``I believe in going to bed early. I shall seldomkeep you later than this. Do you think you can findyour way out?''
　　``Yes, sir. When shall I come to-morrow evening?''
　　``A little before eight.''
　　``I will be punctual.''
　　Jasper was waiting for him, not wholly withoutanxiety, for it was very unusual for Frank to be late.
　　``Well, Frank!'' he exclaimed; ``this is a prettytime for you to come home. I began to think youhad got into trouble. I was just going around to thenearest station house in search of you.''
　　``I was in quite a different place, Jasper.''
　　Frank told his story, including an account of hisengagement.
　　``So it seems I am to lose your company in theevening. I am sorry for that, but I am glad you areso lucky.''
　　``It was better than I expected,'' said Frank, withsatisfaction.
　　``What sort of a man is this Mr. Wharton?'' saidJasper.
　　``He is very kind and generous. I am lucky tohave so good a friend. There's only one thing thatis likely to be disagreeable.''
　　``What's that?''
　　``The housekeeper--her name is Mrs. Bradley--for some reason or other she doesn't want me there.''
　　``What makes you think so?''
　　``Her manner, and the way she speaks. She camein to read to Mr. Wharton last evening, and didn'tseem to like it because I had been taken in her place.''
　　``She is evidently jealous. You must take care notto offend her. She might endeavor to have you dismissed.''
　　``I shall always treat her politely, but I don't thinkI can ever like her.''
　　Meanwhile, the housekeeper, on leaving thelibrary, had gone to her own room in dudgeon.
　　``Mr. Wharton's a fool!'' she muttered to herself.
　　``What possessed him to take this cash-boy from thestreets, invite him to dinner, and treat him as anhonored guest, and finally to engage him as a reader?
　　I never heard of anything so ridiculous! Is this littlevagabond to take my place in the old man's goodgraces? I've been slaving and slaving for twentyyears, and what have I got by it? I've laid up twothousand dollars; and what is that to provide formy old age? If the old man would die, and rememberme handsomely in his will, it would be worthwhile; but this new favorite may stand in my way.
　　If he does I'll be revenged on him as sure as my nameis Ulrica Bradley.''
　　Here the area bell rang, and in a moment one ofthe housemaids entered Mrs. Bradley's room.
　　``There's your nephew outside, ma'am, and wantingto see you.''
　　``Tell him to come in,'' and the housekeeper's coldface became softer and pleasanter in aspect as ayoung man of twenty entered and greeted her carelessly.
　　``How are you, aunt?''
　　``Pretty well, Thomas,'' she answered. ``Youhaven't been here for some time.''
　　``No. I've had a lot of work to do. Nothing butwork, work, all the time,'' he grumbled. ``I wish Iwas rich.''
　　``You get through at six o'clock, don't you?''
　　``Yes.''
　　``I hope you spend your evenings profitably,Thomas?''
　　``I ain't likely to go on any sprees, aunt, if that'swhat you mean. I only get twelve dollars a week.''
　　``I should think you might live on it.''
　　``Starve, you mean. What's twelve dollars to ayoung fellow like me when he's got his board to pay,and has to dress like a gentleman?''
　　``You are not in debt, I hope, Thomas?'' said Mrs.
　　Bradley, uneasily.
　　``I owe for the suit I have on, and I don't knowwhere I'm going to get the money to pay for it.''
　　He was dressed in a flashy style, not unlike what ispopularly denominated a swell. His coarse featureswere disfigured with unhealthy blotches, and his outwardappearance was hardly such as to recommendhim. But to him alone the cold heart of thehousekeeper was warm. He was her sister's son and hernearest relative. Her savings were destined for him,and in her attachment she was not conscious of hisdisagreeable characteristics. She had occasionallygiven him a five-dollar bill to eke out what he termedhis miserable pay, and now whenever he called hedidn't spare hints that he was out of pocket, andthat a further gift would be acceptable. Indeed, theonly tie that bound him to his aunt was a mercenaryone.
　　But the housekeeper, sharp-sighted as sheordinarily was, did not detect the secret motive of suchattention she received from her nephew. She flatteredherself that he really loved her, not suspectingthat he was too selfish to love anybody but himself.
　　``Thomas,'' she said, with a sudden thought, ``Imay be able to help you to an increase of your income.
　　Mr. Wharton needs somebody to read to himevenings. On my recommendation he might takeyou.''
　　``Thank you, aunt, but I don't see it. I don'twant to be worked to death.''
　　``But, think, Thomas,'' said his aunt, earnestly.
　　``He is very rich. He might take a fancy to youand remember you in his will.''
　　``I wish somebody would remember me in his will.
　　Do you really think there's any chance of the oldboy's doing something handsome for me?''
　　``That depends on yourself. You must try toplease him.''
　　``Well, I must do something. What'll he give?''
　　``I don't know yet. In fact, there's anotherreading to him just now.''
　　``Then there's no chance for me.''
　　``Listen to me. It's a boy he's picked up in thestreets, quite unsuited for the place. He's a cash-boy at Gilbert & Mack's. Why, that's where youare,'' she added, with sudden recollection.
　　``A cash-boy from my own place? What's hisname?''
　　``Fowler, I believe.''
　　``I know him--he's lately come. How did he getin with the old man?''
　　``Mr. Wharton fell in the street, and he happenedto be near, and helped him home.''
　　``You'll have to manage it, aunt.''
　　``I'll see what I can do to-morrow. He ought toprefer my nephew to a strange boy, seeing I havebeen twenty years in his service. I'll let you knowas soon as I have accomplished anything.''
　　``I don't half like the idea of giving up myevenings. I don't believe I can stand it.''
　　``It is only for a little while, to get him interestedin you.''
　　``Maybe I might try it a week, and then tell himmy health was failing, and get him to do somethingelse for me.''
　　``At any rate, the first thing must be to becomeacquainted.''
　　Thomas now withdrew, for he did not enjoy spendingan evening with his aunt, the richer by five dollars,half of which was spent before the eveningclosed at a neighboring billiard saloon.
Chapter 10
      If Mrs. Bradley had been wiser, she would havefelt less confident of her nephew's producing a favorableimpression upon Mr. Wharton. She resolved toopen the subject at the breakfast table``I didn't know, Mr. Wharton,'' she commenced,``that you intended to engage a reader.''
　　``Nor did I propose to do so until last evening.''
　　``I think--you'll excuse me for saying so--thatyou will find that boy too young to suit you.''
　　``I don't think so. He reads very clearly anddistinctly.''
　　``If I had known you thought of engaging areader, I would have asked you to engage mynephew.''
　　``Indeed, I was not aware that you had a nephewin the city. Is he a boy?''
　　``No; he is a young man. He was twenty yearsold last June.''
　　``Is he unfavorably situated?''
　　``He has a place as salesman.''
　　``With what firm?''
　　``Gilbert & Mack.''
　　``Why, that is the same firm that employs myyoung friend. It is a good firm.''
　　``Perhaps it is, but my poor nephew receives avery small salary. He finds it very hard to getalong.''
　　``Your nephew is young. He will be promoted ifhe serves his employers well.''
　　``Thomas would have been glad to read to you inthe evening, sir,'' said Mrs. Bradley, commencingthe attack.
　　``But for my present engagement, I might havetaken him,'' said Mr. Wharton, politely.
　　``Have you engaged that boy for any length oftime?''
　　``No; but it is understood that he will stay whileI need him, and he continues to suit me. I have afavorable opinion of him. Besides, he needs the pay.
　　He receives but three dollars a week as a cash-boy,and has a sister to support as well as himself.''
　　``I am sorry,'' she said in an injured tone. ``Ihope you'll excuse my mentioning it, but I took theliberty, having been for twenty years in your employ.''
　　``To be sure! You were quite right,'' said heremployer, kindly. ``Perhaps I may be able to dosomething for your nephew, though not that. Tellhim to come and see me some time.''
　　``Thank you, sir,'' said the housekeeper.
　　There was one question she wanted to determine,and that was the amount of compensation receivedby Frank. She did not like to inquire directly fromMr. Wharton, but resolved to gain the informationfrom our hero. Some evenings later she had theopportunity. Mr. Wharton had an engagement, andasked her to tell Frank, when he arrived that hewas released from duty. Instead of this she receivedhim in the library herself.
　　``Probably Mr. Wharton will not be at home thisevening,'' she said. ``If he does not return in halfan hour, you need not wait.''
　　She took up her work, seated in Mr. Wharton'susual place, and Frank remained ready for duty.
　　``Mr. Wharton tells me you have a sister,'' shesaid.
　　``Yes, ma'am.''
　　``You must find it hard work to provide for heras well as yourself.''
　　``I do, or rather I did till I came here.''
　　``How much does Mr. Wharton pay you?'' sheasked, in an indifferent tone.
　　``Five dollars a week,'' answered Frank.
　　``You are lucky that you have such a chance,'' shesaid.
　　``Yes, ma'am; it is more than I earn, I know, butit is a great help to me.''
　　``And how much do you get as cash-boy?''
　　``Three dollars a week.''
　　``So you actually receive nearly twice as much fora couple of hours in the evening as for the wholeday.''
　　``Yes, ma'am.''
　　``What a pity Thomas can't have this chance,'' shethought.
　　When it was nine o'clock, she said:
　　``You need not wait any longer. Mr. Whartonwill not be home in time to hear you read.''
　　``Good-evening, Mrs. Bradley,'' said Frank.
　　``Good-evening!'' she responded, coldly.
　　``That boy is in the way,'' she said to herself,when she was left alone. ``He is in my way, andTom's way. I can see that he is artfully intriguingfor Mr. Wharton's favor, but I must checkmate him.
　　It's odd,'' she resumed, after a pause, ``but there issomething in his face and voice that seems familiarto me. What is it?''
　　* * * * *The following evening the housekeeper receivedanother visit from her nephew.
　　``How do, aunt?'' said Thomas Bradley, carelessly,as he entered the housekeeper's room.
　　``Very well, thank you, Thomas. I am glad youare here. I have been wanting to see you.''
　　``The old man isn't going to do anything for me,is he?''
　　``How can you expect it so soon? He doesn'tknow you yet. How much do you think he pays thecash-boy that reads to him in the evening?''
　　``I don't know.''
　　``Five dollars a week.''
　　``I wouldn't give up my evenings for that,'' he said.
　　``It isn't so much the pay, Thomas, though thatwould be a help. He might take a fancy to you.''
　　``That might pay better. When are you going tointroduce me?''
　　``This evening; that is, I will ask Mr. Whartonif he will see you.''
　　Mrs. Bradley entered the library, where Frankwas engaged in reading aloud.
　　``Excuse my interruption,'' she said; ``but mynephew has just called, and I should like to introducehim to you, if you will kindly receive him.''
　　``Certainly, Mrs. Bradley,'' said Mr. Wharton.
　　``Bring him in.''
　　The housekeeper left the room, but speedilyreappeared, followed by her nephew, who seemed alittle abashed.
　　``My nephew, Thomas Bradley, Mr. Wharton,''
　　said his aunt, by way of introduction. ``You haveoften heard me speak of Mr. Wharton, Thomas.''
　　``How do you do, sir?'' said Thomas awkwardly.
　　``Pray take a seat, Mr. Bradley. Your aunt hasbeen long a member of my family. I am glad to seea nephew of hers. I believe you are a salesman atGilbert & Mack's?''
　　``Yes, sir.''
　　``Then you must know my young friend here?''
　　pointing to Frank.
　　``How are you, Cash?'' said Thomas, laughing,under the impression that he had said somethingsmart.
　　``Very well, Mr. Bradley,'' answered Frank,quietly.
　　``You see, that's all the name we call 'em in thestore,'' said Thomas.
　　Mr. Wharton could not help thinking:
　　``How poorly this young man compares with myyoung friend. Still, as he is Mrs. Bradley's nephew,I must be polite to him.''
　　``Are there many cash-boys in your establishment,Mr. Bradley?''
　　``About a dozen. Ain't there, Fowler?''
　　``I believe so, Mr. Bradley.''
　　``Gilbert & Mack do a good business, I shouldjudge.''
　　``Yes, they do; but that doesn't do us poorsalesmen much good. We get just enough to keep souland body together.''
　　``I am sorry to hear it,'' said Mr. Wharton.
　　``Why, sir,'' said Thomas, gaining confidence, ``allthey pay me is twelve dollars a week. How canthey expect a fellow to live on that?''
　　``I began my career about your age,'' said Mr.
　　Wharton, ``or perhaps a little younger, and had tolive on but six dollars a week.''
　　``Didn't you come near starving?'' he asked.
　　``On the contrary, I saved a little every week.''
　　``I can't,'' said Thomas, a little discomfited. ``Why,it takes half that to dress decently.''
　　Mr. Wharton glanced quietly at the rather loudand flashy dress worn by his visitor, but only said:
　　``A small salary, of course, makes economy necessary.''
　　``But when a fellow knows he earns a good dealmore than he gets, he doesn't feel like starving himselfjust that his employers may grow rich.''
　　``Of course, if he can better himself they cannotobject.''
　　``That's just what I want to do,'' said Thomas; ``butI expect I need influence to help me to somethingbetter. That's a good hint,'' thought he.
　　``I was telling Thomas,'' said the housekeeper,``that you had kindly expressed a desire to be ofservice to him.''
　　``I am not now in active business,'' said Mr. Wharton,``and of course have not the opportunities Iformerly had for helping young men, but I will bearyour case in mind, Mr. Bradley.''
　　``Thank you, sir,'' said Thomas. ``I am sure Iearn a thousand dollars a year.''
　　``I think, Thomas,'' said Mrs. Bradley, ``we won'tintrude on Mr. Wharton longer this evening. Whenhe finds something for you he will tell me.''
　　``All right, aunt. Good-night, Mr. Wharton. Good-night, Cash,'' said Thomas, chuckling anew at theold joke.
　　``Well, aunt,'' said he, when they were once morein the housekeeper's room, ``do you think the oldgentleman will do anything for me?''
　　``I hope so; but I am not sure, Thomas, whetheryou were not too familiar. You spoke of money tooquick.''
　　``It's my way to come to business.''
　　``I wish you were his reader, instead of that boy.''
　　``Well, I don't. I wouldn't want to he mewed upin that room with the old man every night. I shouldget tired to death of it.''
　　``You would have a chance to get him interestedin you. That boy is artful; he is doing all he can towin Mr. Wharton's favor. He is the one you havemost reason to dread.''
　　``Do you think he will do me any harm?''
　　``I think he will injure your chances.''
　　``Egad! if I thought that, I'd wring the youngrascal's neck.''
　　``There's a better way, Thomas.''
　　``What's that?''
　　``Can't you get him dismissed from Gilbert &Mack's?''
　　``I haven't enough influence with the firm.''
　　``Suppose they thought him dishonest?''
　　``They'd give him the sack, of course.''
　　``Can't you make them think so, Thomas?''
　　``I don't know.''
　　``Then make it your business to find out.''
　　``I suppose you know what good it's going to do,aunt, but I don't. He's got his place here with theold man.''
　　``If Mr. Wharton hears that he is discharged, andhas lost his situation, he will probably dischargehim, too.''
　　``Perhaps so; I suppose you know best.''
　　``Do as I tell you, and I will manage the rest.''
　　``All right. I need your help enough. To-night,for instance, I'm regularly cleaned out. Haven't gotbut twenty-five cents to my name.''
　　``It seems to me, Thomas,'' said his aunt, with atroubled look, ``you are always out of money. I'llgive you five dollars, Thomas, but you must rememberthat I am not made of money. My wages aresmall.''
　　``You ought to have a good nest-egg laid aside,aunt.''
　　``I've got something, Thomas, and when I die, it'llbe yours.''
　　``I hope I shan't have to wait too long,'' thoughtThomas, but he did not give utterance to thethought.''
　　``Come again, Thomas, and don't forget what Ihave said,'' said Mrs. Bradley.
Chapter 11
      A tall man, with a sallow complexion, and heavily-bearded face, stood on the deck of a Cunard steamer,only a few miles distant from New York harbor.
　　``It's three years since I have seen America,'' hesaid to himself, thoughtfully. ``I suppose I ought tofeel a patriotic fervor about setting foot once moreon my native shore, but I don't believe in nonsense.
　　I would be content to live in Europe all my life, ifmy uncle's fortune were once in my possession. Iam his sole heir, but he persists in holding on tohis money bags, and limits me to a paltry three thousanda year. I must see if I can't induce him to giveme a good, round sum on account--fifty thousand,at least--and then I can wait a little more patientlytill he drops off.''
　　``When shall we reach port, captain?'' he asked,as he passed that officer.
　　``In four hours, I think, Mr. Wade.''
　　``So this is my birthday,'' he said to himself.
　　``Thirty five years old to-day. Half my life gone,and I am still a dependent on my uncle's bounty.
　　Suppose he should throw me off--leave me out inthe cold--where should I be? If he should find theboy--but no, there is no chance of that. I havetaken good care of that. By the way, I must lookhim up soon--cautiously, of course--and see whathas become of him. He will grow up a laborer ormechanic and die without a knowledge of his birth,while I fill his place and enjoy his inheritance.''
　　At six o'clock the vessel reached the Quarantine.
　　Most of the passengers decided to remain on boardone night more, but John Wade was impatient, and,leaving his trunks, obtained a small boat, and soontouched the shore.
　　It was nearly eight when John Wade landed inthe city. It was half-past eight when he stood onthe steps of his uncle's residence and rang the bell.
　　``Is my uncle is Mr. Wharton--at home?'' heasked of the servant who answered the bell.
　　``Yes, sir.''
　　``I am his nephew, just arrived from Europe. Lethim know that I am here, and would like to seehim.''
　　The servant, who had never before seen him,having only been six months in the house, regarded himwith a great deal of curiosity, and then went to dohis biddng.
　　``My nephew arrived!'' exclaimed Mr. Wharton, insurprise. ``Why, he never let me know he was coming.''
　　``Will you see him, sir?''
　　``To be sure! Bring him in at once.''
　　``My dear uncle!'' exclaimed John Wade, witheffusion, for he was a polite man, and could act when itsuited his interests to do so, ``I am glad to see you.
　　How is your health?''
　　``I am getting older every day, John.''
　　``You don't look a day older, sir,'' said John, whodid not believe what he said, for he could plainlysee that his uncle had grown older since he last sawhim.
　　``You think so, John, but I feel it. Your comingis a surprise. You did not write that you intendedsailing.''
　　``I formed the determination very suddenly, sir.''
　　``Were you tired of Europe?''
　　``No; but I wanted to see you, sir.''
　　``Thank you, John,'' said his uncle, pressing hisnephew's hand. ``I am glad you think so much ofme. Did you have a pleasant voyage?''
　　``Rather rough, sir.''
　　``You have had no supper, of course? If you willring the bell, the housekeeper will see that some isgot ready for you.''
　　``Is Mrs. Bradley still in your employ, uncle?''
　　``Yes, John. I am so used to her that I shouldn'tknow how to get along without her.''
　　Hitherto John Wade had been so occupied with hisuncle that he had not observed Frank. But at thismoment our hero coughed, involuntarily, and JohnWade looked at him. He seemed to be singularlyaffected. He started perceptibly, and his sallow faceblanched, as his eager eyes were fixed on the boy'sface.
　　``Good heavens!'' he muttered to himself. ``Who isthat boy? How comes he here?''
　　Frank noticed his intent gaze, and wondered at it,but Mr. Wharton's eyesight was defective, and hedid not perceive his nephew's excitement.
　　``I see you have a young visitor, uncle,'' said JohnWade.
　　``Oh, yes,'' said Mr. Wharton, with a kindly smile.
　　``He spends all his evenings with me.''
　　``What do you mean, sir?'' demanded John Wade,with sudden suspicion and fear. ``He seems veryyoung company for----''
　　``For a man of my years,'' said Mr. Wharton,finishing the sentence. ``You are right, John. But, yousee, my eyes are weak, and I cannot use them forreading in the evening, so it occurred to me to engagea reader.''
　　``Very true,'' said his nephew. He wished toinquire the name of the boy whose appearance had sopowerfully impressed him but he determined not todo so at present. What information he sought hepreferred to obtain from the housekeeper.
　　``He seemed surprised, as if he had seen me somewhere before, and recognized me,'' thought Frank,``but I don't remember him. If I had seen his facebefore, I think I should remember it.''
　　``Don't come out, uncle.'' said John Wade, whensummoned to tea by the housekeeper. ``Mrs. Bradleyand I are going to have a chat by ourselves, andI will soon return.''
　　``You are looking thin, Mr. John,'' said Mrs Bradley.
　　``Am I thinner than usual? I never was verycorpulent, you know. How is my uncle's health? Hesays he is well.''
　　``He is pretty well, but he isn't as young as hewas.''
　　``I think he looks older,'' said John. ``But that isnot surprising--at his age. He is seventy, isn't he?''
　　``Not quite. He is sixty-nine.''
　　``His father died at seventy-one.''
　　``Yes.''
　　``But that is no reason why my uncle should notlive till eighty. I hope he will.''
　　``We all hope so,'' said the housekeeper; but sheknew, while she spoke, that if, as she supposed, Mr.
　　Wharton's will contained a generous legacy for her,his death would not afflict her much. She suspectedalso that John Wade was waiting impatiently forhis uncle's death, that he might enter upon hisinheritance. Still, their little social fictions must bekept up, and so both expressed a desire for his continuedlife, though neither was deceived as to theother's real feeling on the subject.
　　``By the way, Mrs. Bradley,'' said John Wade,``how came my uncle to engage that boy to read tohim?''
　　``He was led into it, sir,'' said the housekeeper,with a great deal of indignation, ``by the boy himself.
　　He's an artful and designing fellow, you mayrely upon it.''
　　``What's his name?''
　　``Frank Fowler.''
　　``Fowler! Is his name Fowler?'' he repeated, witha startled expression.
　　``Yes, sir,'' answered the housekeeper, rathersurprised at his manner. ``You don't know anythingabout him, do you?''
　　``Oh, no,'' said John Wade, recovering his composure.
　　``He is a perfect stranger to me; but I onceknew a man of that name, and a precious rascal hewas. When you mentioned his name, I thought hemight be a son of this man. Does he say his fatheris alive?''
　　``No; he is dead, and his mother, too, so the boysays.''
　　``You haven't told me how my uncle fell in withhim?''
　　``It was an accident. Your uncle fell in gettingout of a Broadway stage, and this boy happened tobe near, and seeing Mr. Wharton was a rich gentleman,he helped him home, and was invited in. Thenhe told some story about his poverty, and so workedupon your uncle's feelings that he hired him to readto him at five dollars a week.''
　　``Is this all the boy does?''
　　``No; he is cash-boy in a large store on Broadway.
　　He is employed there all day, and he is here only inthe evenings.''
　　``Does my uncle seem attached to him?'' askedJohn.
　　``He's getting fond of him, I should say. The otherday he asked me if I didn't think it would be a goodthing to take him into the house and give him aroom. I suppose the boy put it into his head.''
　　``No doubt. What did you say?''
　　``I opposed it. I told him that a boy would be agreat deal of trouble in the family.''
　　``You did right, Mrs. Bradley. What did my unclesay?''
　　``He hinted about taking him from the store andletting him go to school. The next thing would behis adopting him. The fact is, Mr. John, the boy isso artful that he knows just how to manage youruncle. No doubt he put the idea into Mr. Wharton'shead, and he may do it yet.''
　　``Does my uncle give any reason for the fancy hehas taken to the boy?'' demanded John``Yes,'' said the housekeeper. ``He has taken itinto his head that the boy resembles your cousin,George, who died abroad. You were with him, Ibelieve?''
　　``Yes, I was with him. Is the resemblance strong?
　　I took very little notice of him.''
　　``You can look for yourself when you go back,''
　　answered the housekeeper.
　　``What else did my uncle say? Tell me all.''
　　``He said: `What would I give, Mrs. Bradley, ifI had such a grandson? If George's boy had lived,he would have been about Frank's age. And,'' continuedthe housekeeper, ``I might as well speakplainly. You're my master's heir, or ought to be;but if this artful boy stays here long, there's noknowing what your uncle may be influenced to do.
　　If he gets into his dotage, he may come to adopt him,and leave the property away from you.''
　　``I believe you are quite right. The danger exists,and we must guard against it. I see you don't likethe boy,'' said John Wade.
　　``No, I don't. He's separated your uncle and me.
　　Before he came, I used to spend my evenings in thelibrary, and read to your uncle. Besides, when Ifound your uncle wanted a reader, I asked him totake my nephew, who is a salesman in the very samestore where that boy is a cash-boy, but although I'vebeen twenty years in this house I could not get him togrant the favor, which he granted to that boy, whomhe never met till a few weeks ago.''
　　``Mrs. Bradley, I sympathize with you,'' said hercompanion. ``The boy is evidently working againstus both. You have been twenty years in my uncle'sservice. He ought to remember you handsomely inhis will. If I inherit the property, as is my right,your services shall be remembered,'' said John Wade.
　　``Thank you, Mr. John,'' said the gratified housekeeper.
　　``That secures her help,'' thought John, in his turn.
　　``She will now work hard for me. When the timecomes, I can do as much or as little for her as Iplease.''
　　``Of course, we must work together against thisinterloper, who appears to have gained a dangerousinfluence over my uncle.''
　　``You can depend upon me, Mr. John,'' said Mrs.
　　Bradley.
　　``I will think it over, and tell you my plan,'' saidJohn Wade. ``But my uncle will wonder at my appetite.
　　I must go back to the library. We will speakof this subject again.''
Chapter 12
       When John Wade re-entered the library, Frankwas reading, but Mr. Wharton stopped him.
　　``That will do, Frank,'' he said. ``As I have notseen my nephew for a long time, I shall not requireyou to read any longer. You can go, if you like.''
　　Frank bowed, and bidding the two good-evening,left the room.
　　``That is an excellent boy, John.'' said the oldgentleman, as the door closed upon our hero.
　　``How did you fall in with him?'' asked John. Mr.
　　Wharton told the story with which the reader isalready familiar.
　　``You don't know anything of his antecedents, Isuppose?'' said John, carelessly.
　　``Only what he told me. His father and motherare dead, and he is obliged to support himself andhis sister. Did you notice anything familiar inFrank's expression?'' asked Mr. Wharton.
　　``I don't know. I didn't observe him very closely.''
　　``Whenever I look at Frank, I think of George. Isuppose that is why I have felt more closely drawnto the boy. I proposed to Mrs. Bradley that theboy should have a room here, but she did not favorit. I think she is prejudiced against him.''
　　``Probably she is afraid he would be some trouble,''
　　replied John.
　　``If George's boy had lived he would be aboutFrank's age. It would have been a great comfort tome to superintend his education, and watch himgrow up. I could not have wished him to be moregentlemanly or promising than my young reader.''
　　``Decidedly, that boy is in my way,'' said JohnWade to himself. ``I must manage to get rid of him,and that speedily, or my infatuated uncle will beadopting him.''
　　``Of what disease did George's boy die, John?''
　　asked Mr. Wharton.
　　``A sudden fever.''
　　``I wish I could have seen him before he died. ButI returned only to find both son and grandson gone.
　　I had only the sad satisfaction of seeing his grave.''
　　``Yes, he was buried in the family lot at Greenwood,five days before you reached home.''
　　``When I see men of my own age, surrounded bychildren and grandchildren, it makes me almostenvious,'' said Mr. Wharton, sadly. ``I declare to you,John, since that boy has been with me, I have felthappier and more cheerful than for years.''
　　``That boy again!'' muttered John to himself. ``Ibegin to hate the young cub, but I mustn't show it.
　　My first work will be to separate him from my uncle.
　　That will require consideration. I wonder whetherthe boy knows that he is not Fowler's son? I mustfind out. If he does, and should happen to mentionit in my uncle's presence, it might awaken suspicionsin his mind. I must interview the boy, andfind out what I can. To enlist his confidence, Imust assume a friendly manner.''
　　In furtherance of this determination, John Wadegreeted our hero very cordially the next evening,when they met, a little to Frank's surprise.
　　When the reading terminated, John Wade said,carelessly:
　　``I believe, uncle, I will go out for a walk. I thinkI shall be better for it. ln what direction are yougoing, Frank?''
　　``Down Sixth Avenue, sir.''
　　``Very good; I will walk along with you.''
　　Frank and his companion walked toward SixthAvenue.
　　``My uncle tells me you have a sister to support,''
　　said Wade, opening the conversation.
　　``Yes, sir.''
　　``Does your sister resemble you?'' asked JohnWade.
　　``No, sir! but that is not surprising, for----''
　　``Why is it not surprising?''
　　Frank hesitated.
　　``You were about to assign some reason.''
　　``It is a secret,'' said our hero, slowly; ``that is,has been a secret, but I don't know why I shouldconceal it. Grace is not my sister. She is Mrs.
　　Fowler's daughter, but I am not her son. I will tell youthe story.''
　　That story Frank told as briefly as possible. JohnWade listened to it with secret alarm.
　　``It is a strange story,'' he said. ``Do you not feela strong desire to learn your true parentage?''
　　``Yes, sir. I don't know, but I feel as if I shouldsome day meet the man who gave me into Mrs. Fowler'scharge.''
　　``You have met him, but it is lucky you don't suspectit,'' thought John Wade.
　　``I am glad you told me this story,'' said he, aloud.
　　``It is quite romantic. I may be able to help you inyour search. But let me advise you to tell no oneelse at present. No doubt there are parties interestedin keeping the secret of your birth from you.
　　You must move cautiously, and your chance of solvingthe mystery will be improved.''
　　``Thank you, sir. I will follow your advice.''
　　``I was mistaken in him,'' thought Frank. ``Idisliked him at first, but he seems inclined to be myfriend.''
　　When Frank reached his lodging he found Jasperwaiting up for him. He looked thoughtful, so muchso that Frank noticed it.
　　``You look as if you had something on your mind,'' Jasper.
　　``You have guessed right. I have read that letter.''
　　He drew from his pocket a letter, which Franktook from his hands.
　　``It is from an uncle of mine in Ohio, who isproprietor of a weekly newspaper. He is getting old,and finds the work too much for him. He offers mea thousand dollars a year if I will come out and relieve him.''
　　``That's a good offer, Jasper. I suppose you willaccept it?''
　　``It is for my interest to do so. Probably my unclewill, after a while, surrender the whole establishment to me.''
　　``I shall be sorry to part with you, Jasper. It willseem very lonely, but I think you ought to go. Itis a good chance, and if you refuse it you may notget such another.''
　　``My uncle wants me to come on at once. I thinkI will start Monday.''
　　Jasper saw no reason to change his determination,and on Monday morning he started on his journey toOhio.
　　Thus, at a critical moment in his fortunes, whentwo persons were planning to injure him, he lost thepresence and help of a valued friend.
Chapter 13
      ``Uncle,'' said John Wade, ``you spoke of invitingFrank Fowler to occupy a room in the house. Whydon't you do it? It would be more convenient toyou and a very good chance for him.''
　　``I should like it,'' said Mr. Wharton, ``but Mrs.
　　Bradley did not seem to regard it favorably whenI suggested it.''
　　``Oh, Mrs. Bradley is unused to boys, and she isafraid he would give her trouble. I'll undertake tobring her around.''
　　``I wish you would, John. I don't think Frankwould give any trouble, and it would enliven thehouse to have a boy here. Besides, he reminds me ofGeorge, as I told you the other day.''
　　``I agree with you, uncle,'' he said. ``He doesremind me a little of George.''
　　``Well, Mrs. Bradley, what do you think I havedone?'' asked John, entering the housekeeper's roomdirectly after his interview with his uncle.
　　``I don't know, Mr. John,'' she answered.
　　``I have asked him to give that boy a room in thehouse.''
　　``Are you carried away with him as well as youruncle?''
　　``Not quite. The fact is, I have a motive in whatI am doing. I'll tell you.''
　　He bent over and whispered in her ear.
　　``I never should have thought of that.''
　　``You see, our purpose is to convince my unclethat he is unworthy of his favor. At present thatwould be rather difficult, but once get him into thehouse and we shall have no trouble.''
　　``I understand.''
　　In due time John Wade announced to his unclethat the housekeeper had withdrawn her objectionsto his plan.
　　``Then I'll tell him to-night,'' said Mr. Wharton,brightening up.
　　Shortly after Frank entered the library thatevening Mr. Wharton made the proposal.
　　``You are very kind, Mr. Wharton,'' he said. ``Inever thought of such a thing.''
　　``Then it is settled that you are to come. Youcan choose your own time for coming.''
　　``I will come to-morrow, sir.''
　　``Very well,'' said Mr. Wharton, with satisfaction.
　　The next day, by special favor, Frank got off fromthe store two hours earlier than usual. He boughtat a Sixth Avenue basement store, a small, secondhand trunk for two dollars. He packed his scantywardrobe into the trunk, which, small as it was hewas unable to fill, and had it carried to Mr. Wharton'shouse.
　　He asked to see Mrs. Bradley, and she came tothe door.
　　``I am glad to see you,'' she said graciously. ``Youmay leave your trunk in the hall and I will have itcarried up by the servants.''
　　``Thank you,'' said Frank, and he followed thehousekeeper up the handsome staircase.
　　``This is to be your room,'' said the housekeeper,opening the door of a small chamber on the thirdfloor.
　　``It looks very nice and comfortable,'' said Frank,looking about him with satisfaction.
　　She left the room, and five minutes later our hero'smodest trunk was brought up and deposited in theroom.
　　That evening Frank read to Mr. Wharton as usual.
　　When nine o'clock came he said:
　　``You need not read aloud any more, but if you seeany books in my library which you would like toread to yourself you may do so. In fact, Frank,you must consider yourself one of the family, andact as freely as if you were at home.''
　　``How kind you are to me, Mr. Wharton,'' saidFrank.
　　The next morning after Frank had left the housefor his daily task, John Wade entered the housekeeper's room.
　　``The boy is out of the way now, Mrs. Bradley,''
　　he said. ``You had better see if you have a key thatwill unlock his trunk.''
　　The two conspirators went upstairs, and togetherentered Frank's room.
　　Mrs. Bradley brought out a large bunch of keys,and successively tried them, but one after anotherfailed to open it.
　　``That's awkward,'' said John Wade. ``I have afew keys in my pocket. One may possibly answer.''
　　The housekeeper kneeled down, and made a trialof John Wade's keys. The last one was successful.
　　The cover was lifted, and the contents weredisclosed. However, neither John nor Mrs. Bradleyseemed particularly interested in the articles forafter turning them over they locked the trunk oncemore.
　　``So far so good,'' said John Wade. ``We havefound the means of opening the trunk when weplease.''
　　``When do you expect to carry out your plan, Mr.
　　John?''
　　``Two weeks from this time my uncle is obligedto go to Washington for a few days on business.
　　While he is gone we will spring the trap, and whenhe comes back he will find the boy gone in disgrace.
　　We'll make short work of him.''
Chapter 14
      ``I am going to give you a few days' vacation,Frank,'' said Mr. Wharton, a fortnight later. ``Iam called to Washington on business. However, youhave got to feel at home here now.''
　　``Oh, yes, sir.''
　　``And Mrs. Bradley will see that you are comfortable.''
　　``I am sure of that, sir,'' said Frank, politely.
　　When Frank returned at night, Mr. Wharton wasalready gone. John Wade and the housekeeperseated themselves in the library after dinner, andby their invitation our hero joined them.
　　``By the way, Frank,'' said John Wade, ``did Iever show you this Russia leather pocketbook?''
　　producing one from his pocket.
　　``No, sir, I believe not.''
　　``I bought it at Vienna, which is noted for itsarticles of Russia leather.''
　　``It is very handsome, sir.''
　　``So I think. By the way, you may like to look atmy sleeve-buttons. They are of Venetian mosaic.
　　I got them myself in Venice last year.''
　　``They are very elegant. You must have enjoyedvisiting so many famous cities.''
　　``Yes; it is very interesting.''
　　John Wade took up the evening paper, and Frankoccupied himself with a book from his patron'slibrary. After a while John threw down the paperyawning, and said that he had an engagement. Nothingelse occurred that evening which merits record.
　　Two days later Frank returned home in his usualspirits. But at the table he was struck by a singularchange in the manner of Mrs. Bradley and JohnWade. They spoke to him only on what it wasabsolutely necessary, and answered his questions inmonosyllables.
　　``Will you step into the library a moment?'' saidJohn Wade, as they arose from the table.
　　Frank followed John into the library, and Mrs.
　　Bradley entered also.
　　``Frank Fowler,'' the enemy began, ``do youremember my showing you two evenings since a pocketbook,also some sleeve-buttons of Venetian mosaic,expensively mounted in gold?''
　　``Certainly, sir.''
　　``That pocketbook contained a considerable sumof money,'' pursued his questioner.
　　``I don't know anything about that.''
　　``You probably supposed so.''
　　``Will you tell me what you mean, Mr. Wade?''
　　demanded Frank, impatiently. ``I have answeredyour questions, but I can't understand why you askthem.''
　　``Perhaps you may suspect,'' said Wade, sarcastically.
　　``It looks as if you had lost them and suspectedme of taking them.''
　　``So it appears.''
　　``You are entirely mistaken, Mr. Wade. I am nota thief. I never stole anything in my life.''
　　``It is very easy to say that,'' sneered John Wade.
　　``You and Mrs. Bradley were the only persons presentwhen I showed the articles, and I suppose youwon't pretend that she stole them?''
　　``No, sir; though she appears to agree with youthat I am a thief. I never thought of accusing her,''
　　replied Frank.
　　``Mr. Wade,'' said the housekeeper, ``I feel that itis my duty to insist upon search being made in myroom.''
　　``Do you make the same offer?'' asked John Wade,turning to Frank.
　　``Yes, sir,'' answered our hero, proudly. ``I wishyou to satisfy yourself that I am not a thief. Ifyou will come to my room at once, Mr. Wade, youand Mrs. Bradley, I will hand you the key of mytrunk.''
　　The two followed him upstairs, exulting wickedlyin his discomfiture, which they had reason to forsee.
　　He handed his key to his artful enemy, and thelatter bending over, opened the trunk, which containedall our hero's small possessions.
　　He raised the pile of clothes, and, to Frank's dismay,disclosed the missing pocketbook and sleeve-buttons in the bottom of the trunk.
　　``What have you got to say for yourself now, youyoung villain?'' demanded John Wade, in a loudvoice.
　　``I don't understand it,'' Frank said, in a troubledtone. ``I don't know how the things came there. Ididn't put them there.''
　　``Probably they crept in themselves,'' sneered John.
　　``Someone put them there,'' said Frank, pale, butresolute; ``some wicked person, who wanted to getme into trouble.''
　　``What do you mean by that, you youngvagabond?'' demanded John Wade, suspiciously.
　　``I mean what I say,'' he asserted. ``I am awayall day, and nothing is easier than to open my trunkand put articles in, in order to throw suspicion onme.''
　　``Look here, you rascal!'' said John Wade, roughly.
　　``I shall treat you better than you deserve. Iwon't give you over to the police out of regard formy uncle, but you must leave this house and neverset foot in it again. It will be the worse for you ifyou do.''
　　John Wade and the housekeeper left the room, andour hero was left to realize the misfortune whichhad overwhelmed him.
　　Frank arose at an early hour the next morningand left the house. It was necessary for him to finda new home at once in order to be at the store intime. He bought a copy of the Sun and turned tothe advertising columns. He saw a cheap roomadvertised near the one he had formerly occupied.
　　Finding his way there he rang the bell.
　　The door was opened by a slatternly-lookingwoman, who looked as if she had just got up.
　　``I see by the Sun you have a room to let,'' saidFrank.
　　``Yes; do you want to see it now?''
　　``I should like to.''
　　``Come upstairs and I will show you the room.''
　　The room proved to be small, and by no meansneat in appearance, but the rent was only a dollarand a quarter a week, and Frank felt that he couldnot afford to be particular, so he quick closed thebargain.
　　The next day, about eleven o'clock in theforenoon, he was surprised at seeing Mrs. Bradley enterthe store and thread her way to that part of thecounter where her nephew was stationed. She dartedone quick look at him, but gave him no sign ofrecognition. His heart sank within him, for he had apresentiment that her visit boded fresh evil for him.
Chapter 15
       Frank's misgivings were not without good cause.
　　The housekeeper's call at the store was connectedwith him. How, will be understood from a conversationwhich took place that morning betweenher and John Wade.
　　``It's a relief to get that boy out of the house, Mrs.
　　Bradley,'' he said at the breakfast table.
　　``That it is, Mr. John,'' she replied. ``But he'll betrying to get back, take my word for it.''
　　``He won't dare to,'' said John Wade,incredulously. ``I told him if he came near the house Iwould give him up to the police.''
　　``I am afraid he will write to your uncle. He'sbold enough for anything.''
　　``I didn't think of that,'' said John, thoughtfully.
　　``Do you know his handwriting, Mrs. Bradley?''
　　``I think I should know it.''
　　``Then if any letters come which you know to befrom him, keep them back from my uncle.''
　　``What shall I do with them?''
　　``Give them to me. I don't want my uncle worriedby his appeals.''
　　``Your uncle seems to be very attached to him.
　　He may go to the store to see him.''
　　``That is true. I should not like that. How shallwe prevent it, that's the question.''
　　``If Gilbert & Mack knew that he was not honestthey would discharge him.''
　　``Exactly,'' said John Wade; ``and as probably hewould be unable to get another situation, he wouldbe compelled to leave the city, and we should get ridof him. I commend your shrewdness, Mrs. Bradley.
　　Your plan is most excellent.''
　　John Wade had more reasons than the housekeeperknew of for desiring the removal of our young herofrom the city--reasons which the reader has probablyguessed. There was a dark secret in his lifeconnected with a wrong done in years past, from whichhe hoped some day to reap personal benefit. UnconsciouslyFrank Fowler stood in his way, and mustbe removed. Such was his determination.
　　``I am going out this morning,'' said thehousekeeper. ``I will make it in my way to call at Gilbert& Mack's. My nephew is a salesman there, as Ihave told you. I will drop a word in his ear, andthat will be enough to settle that boy's hash.''
　　``Your language is professional, Mrs. Bradley,''
　　said John Wade, laughing, ``but you shouldn't alludeto hash in an aristocratic household. I shall be gladto have you carry out your plan.''
　　``I hope you'll speak to your uncle about mynephew, Mr. John. He gets very poor pay wherehe is.''
　　``I won't forget him,'' said John, carelessly.
　　In his heart he thought Thomas Bradley a verylow, obtrusive fellow, whom he felt by no meansinclined to assist, but it was cheap to make promises.
　　The reader understands now why Mrs. Bradleymade a morning call at Gilbert &; Mack's store.
　　She knew at what part of the counter her nephewwas stationed, and made her way thither at once.
　　He did not at first recognize her, until she said:
　　``Good-morning, Thomas.''
　　``Good-morning, aunt. What brings you here thismorning? Any good news for me? Has the oldgentleman come around and concluded to do something handsome?''
　　``Mr. Wharton is not in the city. He has gone toWashington. But that isn't what I came about thismorning. You remember that boy who has beenreading to Mr. Wharton?''
　　``One of our cash-boys. Yes; there he is, justgone by.''
　　``Well, he has stolen Mr. John's pocketbook andsome jewelry belonging to him.''
　　``What have you done about it? What does Mr.
　　Wharton say?''
　　``He's away from home. He doesn't know yet. Mr.
　　John gave him a lecture, and ordered him to leavethe house.''
　　``Does he admit that he took the things?''
　　``No; he denied it as bold as brass, but it didn'tdo him any good. There were the things in histrunk. He couldn't get over that.''
　　Thomas fastened a shrewd glance on his aunt'sface, for he suspected the truth.
　　``So you've got rid of him?'' he said. ``What doyou propose to do next?''
　　``Mr. John thinks your employer ought to knowthat he is a thief.''
　　``Are you going to tell them?''
　　``I want you to do it.''
　　``You must tell them yourself, aunt. I shan't.''
　　``Then introduce me to Mr. Gilbert, Thomas, andI'll do it.''
　　``Follow me, aunt.''
　　He led his aunt to the rear of the store, whereMr. Gilbert was standing.
　　``Mr. Gilbert,'' he said, ``allow me to introduce myaunt, Mrs. Bradley.''
　　The housekeeper was courteously received, andinvited to be seated. She soon opened her business,and blackened poor Frank's character as she had intended.
　　``Really, Mrs. Bradley, I am sorry to hear this,''
　　said Mr. Gilbert. ``You think there is no doubt ofthe boy's guilt?''
　　``I am sorry to say that I have no doubt at all,''
　　said the housekeeper, hypocritically.
　　``Mr. Mack and myself have had a very good opinionof him. He is faithful and prompt.''
　　``Of course, sir, you will retain him in youremploy if you are willing to take the risk, but I thoughtit my duty to put you on your guard.''
　　``I am obliged to you, Mrs. Bradley; though, asI said, I regret to find that my confidence in the boyhas been misplaced.''
　　Late in the afternoon, Frank was called to thecashier's desk.
　　``I am directed by Mr. Gilbert to say that yourservices will not be required after to-day,'' he said.
　　``Here are the week's wages.''
　　``Why am I discharged? What have I done?''
　　demanded Frank, while his heart sank within him.
　　``I don't know. You must ask Mr. Gilbert,''
　　answered the cashier.
　　``I will speak to him, at any rate,'' and Frankwalked up to the senior partner, and addressed tohim the same question.
　　``Can you not guess?'' asked Mr. Gilbert, sternly.
　　``I can guess that a false accusation has beenbrought against me,'' said Frank.
　　``A respectable lady has informed me that youare not honest. I regret it, for I have been pleasedwith your diligence. Of course, I cannot retain youin my employ.''
　　``Mr. Gilbert,'' said Frank, earnestly, ``the chargeis false. Mrs. Bradley is my enemy, and wishes meharm. I don't understand how the things came intomy trunk, but I didn't put them there.''
　　``I hope you are innocent, but I must dischargeyou. Business is dull now, and I had decided to partwith four of my cash-boys. I won't pass judgmentupon you, but you must go.''
　　Frank bowed in silence, for he saw that furtherentreaty would be vain, and left the store moredispirited than at any moment since he had been inthe city.
　　Ten days Frank spent in fruitless efforts to obtaina place.
　　All this time his money steadily diminished. Heperceived that he would soon be penniless. Evidently,something must be done. He formed two determinations.
　　The first was to write to Mr. Wharton,who, he thought, must now have returned fromWashington, asserting his innocence and appealingto him to see Gilbert & Mack, and re-establish himin their confidence. The second was, since he couldnot obtain a regular place, to frequent the wharvesand seek chances to carry bundles. In this way hemight earn enough, with great economy, to pay forhis board and lodging.
　　One morning the housekeeper entered the librarywhere John Wade sat reading the daily papers.
　　``Mr. John,'' she said, holding out a letter, ``hereis a letter from that boy. I expected he would writeto your uncle.''
　　John Wade deliberately opened the letter.
　　``Sit down, Mrs. Bradley, and I will read the letteraloud.''
　　It will be only necessary to quote the concludingsentences:
　　`` `I hope, Mr. Wharton, you will not be influencedagainst me by what Mrs. Bradley and your nephewsay. I don't know why it is, but they are my enemies,though I have always treated them with respect.
　　I am afraid they have a desire to injure me in yourestimation. If they had not been, they would havebeen content with driving me from your house, withoutalso slandering me to my employers, and inducingthem to discharge me. Since I was discharged,I have tried very hard to get another place, but asI cannot bring a recommendation from Gilbert &Mack, I have everywhere been refused. I ask you,Mr. Wharton to consider my situation. Already mysmall supply of money is nearly gone, and I do notknow how I am to pay my expenses. If it was anyfault of mine that had brought me into this situation,I would not complain, but it seems hard tosuffer when I am innocent.
　　`` `I do not ask to return to your house, Mr.
　　Wharton, for it would not be pleasant, since your nephewand Mrs. Bradley dislike me, but I have a right toask that the truth may be told to my employers, sothat if they do not wish me to return to their service,they may, at least, be willing to give me a recommendationthat will give me a place elsewhere.'''
　　``I must prevent the boy communicating with myuncle, if it is a possible thing. `Strike while the ironis hot,' I say.''
　　``I think that is very judicious, Mr. John. I haveno doubt you will know how to manage matters.''
　　John Wade dressed himself for a walk, and drawingout a cigar, descended the steps of his uncle'shouse into the street.
　　He reached Fifth Avenue, and walked slowlydowntown. He was about opposite Twenty-eighth Street,when he came face to face with the subject of histhoughts.
　　``Where are you going?'' John Wade demandedsternly.
　　``I don't know that I am bound to answer yourquestion,'' answered Frank, quietly, ``but I have noobjection. I am going to Thirty-ninth Street withthis bundle.''
　　``Hark you, boy! I have something to say to you,''
　　continued John Wade, harshly. ``You have had theimpudence to write to my uncle.''
　　``What did he say?''
　　``Nothing that you would like to hear. He looksupon you as a thief.''
　　``You have slandered me to him, Mr. Wade,'' hesaid, angrily. ``You might be in better business thanaccusingly a poor boy falsely.''
　　``Hark you, young man! I have had enough ofyour impudence. I will give you a bit of advice,which you will do well to follow. Leave this city fora place where you are not known, or I may feeldisposed to shut you up on a charge of theft.''
　　``I shall not leave the city, Mr. Wade,'' returnedFrank, firmly. ``I shall stay here in spite of you,''
　　and without waiting for an answer, he walked on.
Chapter 16
      No sooner had John Wade parted from our herothan he saw approaching him a dark, sinister-lookingman, whom he had known years before.
　　``Good-morning, Mr. Wade,'' said the newcomer.
　　``Good-morning, Mr. Graves. Are you busy justnow?''
　　``No, sir; I am out of employment. I have beenunfortunate.''
　　``Then I will give you a job. Do you see thatboy?'' said John Wade, rapidly.
　　``Yes, I see him.''
　　``I want you to follow him. Find out where helives, and let me know this evening. Do you understand?''
　　``I understand. You may rely upon me, sir,''
　　answered Nathan Graves; and quickening his pace, hesoon came within a hundred feet of our hero.
　　After fulfilling his errand, Frank walked downtownagain, but did not succeed in obtaining anyfurther employment. Wherever he went, he wasfollowed by Graves. Unconsciously, he exhaustedthe patience of that gentleman, who got heartily tiredof his tramp about the streets. But the longest daywill come to an end, and at last he had the satisfactionof tracking Frank to his humble lodging. Then,and not till then, he felt justified in leaving him.
　　Nathan Graves sought the residence of John Wade.
　　He rang the bell as the clock struck eight.
　　``Well, what success?'' asked Wade, when they met.
　　``I have tracked the boy. What more can I dofor you?'' asked Graves.
　　``I want to get him away from the city. The factis--I may as well tell you--my uncle has taken agreat fancy to the boy, and might be induced toadopt him, and cut me off from my rightful inheritance.
　　The boy is an artful young rascal, and hasbeen doing all he could to get into the good gracesof my uncle, who is old and weak-minded.''
　　It was nine o'clock when Nathan Graves left thehouse, John Wade himself accompanying him to thedoor.
　　``How soon do you think you can carry out myinstructions?'' asked Wade.
　　``To-morrow, if possible.''
　　``The sooner the better.''
　　``It is lucky I fell in with him,'' said NathanGraves to himself, with satisfaction, as he slowlywalked down Fifth Avenue. ``It's a queer business,but that's none of my business. The main thingfor me to consider is that it brings money to mypurse, and of that I have need enough.''
　　Graves left the house richer by a hundred dollarsthan he entered it.
　　It was eleven o'clock on the forenoon of the nextday when Frank walked up Canal Street towardBroadway. He had been down to the wharves sinceearly in the morning, seeking for employment. Hehad offered his services to many, but as yet had beenunable to secure a job.
　　As he was walking along a man addressed him:
　　``Will you be kind enough to direct me to Broadway?''
　　It was Nathan Graves, with whom Frank was destinedto have some unpleasant experiences.
　　``Straight ahead,'' answered Frank. ``I am goingthere, and will show you, if you like.''
　　``Thank you, I wish you would. I live only fifteenor twenty miles distant,'' said Graves, ``but I don'toften come to the city, and am not much acquainted.
　　I keep a dry-goods store, but my partner generallycomes here to buy goods. By the way, perhaps youcan help me about the errand that calls me here today.''
　　``I will, sir, if I can,'' said Frank, politely.
　　``My youngest clerk has just left me, and I wantto find a successor--a boy about your age, say. Doyou know any one who would like such a position?''
　　``I am out of employment myself just now. Doyou think I will suit?''
　　``I think you will,'' said Mr. Graves.
　　``You won't object to go into the country?''
　　``No, sir.''
　　``I will give you five dollars a week and your boardfor the present. If you suit me, your pay will beraised at the end of six months. Will that besatisfactory?'' asked his companion.
　　``Quite so, sir. When do you wish me to come?''
　　``Can you go out with me this afternoon?''
　　``Yes, sir. I only want to go home and pack upmy trunk.''
　　``To save time, I will go with you, and we willstart as soon as possible.''
　　Nathan Graves accompanied Frank to his room,where his scanty wardrobe was soon packed. Ahack was called, and they were speedily on theirway to the Cortland Street ferry.
　　They crossed the ferry, and Mr. Graves purchasedtwo tickets to Elizabeth. He bought a paper, andoccupied himself in reading. Frank felt thatfortune had begun to shine upon him once more. Byand by, he could send for Grace, and get her boardednear him. As soon as his wages were raised, hedetermined to do this. While engaged in these pleasantspeculations, they reached the station.
　　``We get out here,'' said Mr. Graves.
　　``Is your store in this place?'' asked Frank.
　　``No; it is in the next town.''
　　Nathan Graves looked about him for a conveyance.
　　He finally drove a bargain with a man drivinga shabby-looking vehicle, and the two took theirseats.
　　They were driven about six miles through a flat,unpicturesque country, when they reached a branchroad leading away from the main one.
　　It was a narrow road, and apparently not muchfrequented. Frank could see no houses on eitherside``Is your store on this road?'' he asked.
　　``Oh, no; but I am not going to the store yet. Wewill go to my house, and leave your trunk.''
　　At length the wagon stopped, by Graves' orders,in front of a gate hanging loosely by one hinge.
　　``We'll get out here,'' said Graves.
　　Frank looked with some curiosity, and somedisappointment, at his future home. It was a square,unpainted house, discolored by time, and looked farfrom attractive. There were no outward signs ofoccupation, and everything about it appeared to havefallen into decay. Not far off was a barn, lookingeven more dilapidated than the house.
　　At the front door, instead of knocking--there wasno bell--Graves drew a rusty key from his pocketand inserted it in the lock. They found themselvesin a small entry, uncarpeted and dingy.
　　``We'll go upstairs,'' said Graves.
　　Arrived on the landing, he threw open a door,and ushered in our hero.
　　``This will be your room,'' he said.
　　Frank looked around in dismay.
　　It was a large, square room, uncarpeted, andcontaining only a bed, two chairs and a washstand, allof the cheapest and rudest manufacture.
　　``I hope you will soon feel at home here,'' saidGraves. ``I'll go down and see if I can find somethingto eat.''
　　He went out, locking the door behind him``What does this mean?'' thought Frank, with astrange sensation.
Chapter 17
      It was twenty minutes before Frank, waitingimpatiently, heard the steps of his late companionascending the stairs.
　　But the door was not unlocked. Instead, a slidewas revealed, about eight inches square, throughwhich his late traveling companion pushed a plateof cold meat and bread.
　　``Here's something to eat,'' he said; ``take it.''
　　``Why do you lock me in?'' demanded our hero.
　　``You can get along without knowing, I suppose,''
　　said the other, with a sneer.
　　``I don't mean to,'' said Frank, firmly. ``I demandan explanation. How long do you intend to keepme here?''
　　``I am sorry I can't gratify your curiosity, but Idon't know myself.''
　　``Perhaps you think that I am rich, but I am not.
　　I have no money. You can't get anything out ofme,'' said Frank.
　　``That may be so, but I shall keep you.''
　　``I suppose that was all a lie about your keepingstore?''
　　``It was a pretty little story, told for your amusement,my dear boy,'' said Graves. ``I was afraidyou wouldn't come without it.''
　　``You are a villain!'' said Frank.
　　``Look here, boy,'' said Graves, in a different tone,his face darkening, ``you had better not talk in thatway. I advise you to eat your dinner and be quiet.
　　Some supper will be brought to you before night.''
　　So saying, he abruptly closed the slide, anddescended the stairs, leaving Frank to his reflections,which it may be supposed, were not of the pleasantestcharacter.
　　Frank did not allow his unpleasant situation totake away his appetite, and though he was fullydetermined to make the earliest possible attempt toescape, he was sensible enough first to eat the foodwhich his jailer had brought him.
　　His lunch dispatched, he began at once to revolveplans of escape.
　　There were three windows in the room, two onthe front of the house, the other at the side.
　　He tried one after another, but the result wasthe same. All were so fastened that it was quiteimpossible to raise them.
　　Feeling that he could probably escape through oneof the windows when he pleased, though at the costof considerable trouble, Frank did not trouble himselfmuch, or allow himself to feel unhappy. He decidedto continue his explorations.
　　In the corner of the room was a door, probablyadmitting to a closet.
　　``I suppose it is locked,'' thought Frank, but ontrying it, he found that such was not the case. Helooked curiously about him, but found little to repayhim. His attention was drawn, however to severaldark-colored masks lying upon a shelf.
　　He also discovered a small hole in the wall of thesize of a marble. Actuated by curiosity, he appliedhis eye to the opening, and peeped into what wasprobably the adjoining room. It was furnished invery much the same way as the one in which he wasconfined, but at present it was untenanted. Havingseen what little there was to be seen, Frankwithdrew from his post of observation and returned tohis room.
　　It was several hours later when he again heardsteps ascending the stairs, and the slide in the doorwas moved.
　　He looked toward it, but the face that he saw wasnot that of Nathan Graves.
　　It was the face of a woman.
Chapter 18
      We are compelled for a time to leave our hero inthe hands of his enemies, and return to the town ofCrawford, where an event has occurred which influencesseriously the happiness and position of hissister, Grace.
　　Ever since Frank left the town, Grace had been awelcome member of Mr. Pomeroy's family, receivingthe kindest treatment from all, so that she had cometo feel very much at home.
　　So they lived happily together, till one disastrousnight a fire broke out, which consumed the house,and they were forced to snatch their clothes and escape,saving nothing else.
　　Mr. Pomeroy's house was insured for two-thirdsof its value, and he proposed to rebuild immediately,but it would be three months at least before the newhouse would be completed. In the interim, he succeededin hiring a couple of rooms for his family,but their narrow accommodations would oblige themto dispense with their boarder. Sorry as Mr. andMrs. Pomeroy were to part with her, it was obviousthat Grace must find another home.
　　``We must let Frank know,'' said Mr. Pomeroy,and having occasion to go up to the city at once tosee about insurance, he went to the store of Gilbert& Mack, and inquired for Prank.
　　``Fowler? What was he?'' was asked.
　　``A cash-boy.''
　　``Oh, he is no longer here. Mr. Gilbert dischargedhim.''
　　``Do you know why he was discharged?'' askedMr. Pomeroy, pained and startled.
　　``No; but there stands Mr. Gilbert. He can tellyou.''
　　Mr. Pomeroy introduced himself to the head ofthe firm and repeated his inquiry.
　　``If you are a friend of the lad,'' said Mr. Gilbert,``you will be sorry to learn that he was charged withdishonesty. It was a very respectable lady whomade the charge. It is only fair to say that the boydenied it, and that, personally, we found him faithfuland trusty. But as the dullness of trade compelledus to discharge some of our cash-boys, wenaturally discharged him among the number, without,however, judging his case.''
　　``Then, sir, you have treated the boy very unfairly.
　　On the strength of a charge not proved, you havedismissed him, though personally you had noticednothing out of the way in him, and rendered itimpossible for him to obtain another place.''
　　``There is something in what you say, I admit.
　　Perhaps I was too hasty. If you will send the boyto me, I will take him back on probation.''
　　``Thank you, sir,'' said Mr. Pomeroy, gratefully``I will send him here.''
　　But this Mr. Pomeroy was unable to do. He didnot know of Frank's new address, and though hewas still in the city, he failed to find him.
　　He returned to Crawford and communicated theunsatisfactory intelligence. He tried to obtain a newboarding place for Grace, but no one was willing totake her at two dollars a week, especially when Mr.
　　Pomeroy was compelled to admit that Frank wasnow out of employment, and it was doubtful if hewould be able to keep up the payment.
　　Tom Pinkerton managed to learn that Grace wasnow without a home, and mentioned it to his father.
　　``Won't she have to go to the poorhouse now,father?'' he asked eagerly.
　　``Yes,'' said Deacon Pinkerton. ``There is no otherplace for her that I can see.''
　　``Ah, I'm glad,'' said Tom, maliciously. ``Won'tthat upstart's pride be taken down? He was tooproud to go to the poorhouse, where he belonged,but he can't help his sister's going there. If he isn'ta pauper himself, he'll be the brother of a pauper,and that's the next thing to it.''
　　``That is true,'' said the deacon. ``He was veryimpudent in return for my kindness. Still, I amsorry for him.''
　　I am afraid the deacon's sorrow was not verydeep, for he certainly looked unusually cheerful whenhe harnessed up his horse and drove around to thetemporary home of the Pomeroys.
　　``Good-morning, Mr. Pomeroy,'' he said, seeing thelatter in the yard. ``You've met with a severe loss.''
　　``Yes, deacon; it is a severe loss to a poor manlike me.''
　　``To be sure. Well, I've called around to relieveyou of a part of your cares. I am going to takeGrace Fowler to the poorhouse.''
　　``Couldn't you get her a place with a privatefamily to help about the house in return for her board,while she goes to school?''
　　``There's nobody wants a young girl like her,'' saidthe deacon.
　　``Her brother would pay part of her board--thatis, when he has a place.''
　　``Hasn't he got a place?'' asked the deacon,pricking up his ears. ``I heard he was in a store in NewYork.''
　　``He lost his place,'' said Mr. Pomeroy, reluctantly,``partly because of the dullness of general trade.''
　　``Then he can't maintain his sister. She will haveto go to the poorhouse. Will you ask her to getready, and I'll take her right over to the poorhouse.''
　　There was no alternative. Mr. Pomeroy went intothe house, and broke the sad news to his wife andGrace.
　　``Never mind,'' she said, with attempted cheerfulness,though her lips quivered, ``I shan't have to staythere long. Frank will be sure to send for me veryshortly.''
　　``It's too bad, Grace,'' said Sam, looking red aboutthe eyes; ``it's too bad that you should have to go tothe poorhouse.''
　　``Come and see me, Sam,'' said Grace.
　　``Yes, I will, Grace. I'll come often, too. Youshan't stay there long.''
　　``Good-by,'' said Grace, faltering. ``You have allbeen very kind to me.''
　　``Good-by, my dear child,'' said Mrs. Pomeroy.
　　``Who knows but you can return to us when the newhouse is done?''
　　So poor Grace went out from her pleasant home tofind the deacon, grim-faced and stern, waiting forher.
　　``Jump in, little girl,'' he said. ``You've kept mewaiting for you a long time, and my time is valuable.''
　　The distance to the poorhouse was about a mileand a half. For the first half mile Deacon Pinkertonkept silence. Then he began to speak, in a tone ofcold condescension, as if it were a favor for such asuperior being to address an insignificant child,about to become a pauper.
　　``Little girl, have you heard from your brotherlately?''
　　``Not very lately, sir.''
　　``What is he doing?''
　　``He is in a store.''
　　``I apprehend you are mistaken. He has lost hisplace. He has been turned away,'' said the deacon,with satisfaction.''
　　``Frank turned away! Oh, sir, you must be mistaken.''
　　``Mr. Pomeroy told me. He found out yesterdaywhen he went to the city.''
　　Poor Grace! she could not longer doubt now, andher brother's misfortune saddened her even morethan her own.
　　``Probably you will soon see your brother.''
　　``Oh, do you think so, sir?'' asked Grace, joyfully.
　　``Yes,'' answered the deacon, grimly. ``He will findhimself in danger of starvation in the city, and he'llcreep back, only too glad to obtain a nice, comfortablehome in the poorhouse.''
　　But Grace knew her brother better than that. Sheknew his courage, his self-reliance and his independentspirit, and she was sure the deacon was mistaken.
　　The home for which Grace was expected to be sograteful was now in sight. It was a dark, neglectedlooking house, situated in the midst of barren fields,and had a lonely and desolate aspect. It wassuperintended by Mr. and Mrs. Chase, distant relationsof Deacon Pinkerton.
　　Mr. Chase was an inoffensive man, but Mrs.
　　Chase had a violent temper. She was at work inthe kitchen when Deacon Pinkerton drove up. Hearingthe sound of wheels, she came to the door.
　　``Mrs. Chase,'' said the deacon, ``I've brought youa little girl, to be placed under your care.''
　　``What's her name?'' inquired the lady.
　　``Grace Fowler.''
　　``Grace, humph! Why didn't she have a decentname?''
　　``You can call her anything you like,'' said the deacon.
　　``Little girl, you must behave well,'' said DeaconPinkerton, by way of parting admonition. ``Thetown expects it. I expect it. You must never ceaseto be grateful for the good home which it providesyou free of expense.''
　　Grace did not reply. Looking in the face of herfuture task-mistress was scarcely calculated toawaken a very deep feeling of gratitude.
　　``Now,'' said Mrs. Chase, addressing her newboarder, ``just take off your things, Betsy, and makeyourself useful.''
　　``My name isn't Betsy, ma'am.''
　　``It isn't, isn't it?''
　　``No; it is Grace.''
　　``You don't say so! I'll tell you one thing, I shan'tallow anybody to contradict me here, and your name'sgot to be Betsy while you're in this house. Nowtake off your things and hang them up on that peg.
　　I'm going to set you right to work.''
　　``Yes, ma'am,'' said Grace, alarmed.
　　``There's some dishes I want washed, Betsy, and Iwon't have you loitering over your work, neither.''
　　``Very well, ma'am.''
　　Such was the new home for which poor Grace wasexpected to be grateful.
Chapter 19
      Frank looked with some surprise at the womanwho was looking through the slide of his door. Hehad expected to see Nathan Graves. She also regardedhim with interest.
　　``I have brought you some supper,'' she said.
　　Frank reached out and drew in a small waiter,containing a cup of tea and a plate of toast.
　　``Thank you,'' he said. ``Where is the man whobrought me here?''
　　``He has gone out.''
　　``Do you know why he keeps me here in confinement?''
　　``No,'' said the woman, hastily. ``I know nothing.
　　I see much, but I know nothing.''
　　``Are many prisoners brought here as I havebeen?'' asked our hero, in spite of the woman's refusalto speak.
　　``No.''
　　``I can't understand what object they can have indetaining me. If I were rich, I might guess, but Iam poor. I am compelled to work for my dailybread, and have been out of a place for two weeks.''
　　``I don't understand,'' she said, in a low voice,rather to herself than to him. ``But I cannot wait.
　　I must not stand here. I will come up in fifteenminutes, and if you wish another cup of tea, or sometoast, I will bring them.''
　　His confinement did not affect his appetite, forhe enjoyed his tea and toast; and when, as she hadpromised, the woman came up, he told her he wouldlike another cup of tea, and some more toast.
　　``Will you answer one question?'' asked our hero.
　　``I don't know,'' answered the woman in a flurriedtone.
　　``You look like a good woman. Why do you stayin such a house as this?''
　　``I will tell you, though I should do better to besilent. But you won't betray me?''
　　``On no account.''
　　``I was poor, starving, when I had an applicationto come here. The man who engaged me told methat it was to be a housekeeper, and I had no suspicionof the character of the house--that it was aden of--''
　　She stopped short, but Frank understood whatshe would have said.
　　``When I discovered the character of the house, Iwould have left but for two reasons. First, I hadno other home; next, I had become acquainted withthe secrets of the house, and they would have fearedthat I would reveal them. I should incur great risk.
　　So I stayed.''
　　Here there was a sound below. The womanstarted.
　　``Some one has come,'' she said. ``I must go downI will come up as soon as I can with the rest of yoursupper.''
　　``Thank you. You need not hurry.''
　　Our hero was left to ponder over what he hadheard. There was evidently a mystery connected withthis lonely house a mystery which he very muchdesired to solve. But there was one chance. Throughthe aperture in the closet he might both see andhear something, provided any should meet there thatevening.
　　The remainder of his supper was brought him bythe same woman, but she was in haste, and he obtainedno opportunity of exchanging another wordwith her.
　　Frank did not learn who it was that had arrived.
　　Listening intently, he thought he heard some soundsin the next room. Opening the closet door, andapplying his eye to the aperture, he saw two menseated in the room, one of whom was the man whohad brought him there.
　　He applied his ear to the opening, and heard thefollowing conversation:
　　``I hear you've brought a boy here, Nathan,'' saidthe other, who was a stout, low-browed man, withan evil look.
　　``Yes,'' said Graves, with a smile; ``I am going toboard him here a while.''
　　``What's it all about? What are you going to gainby it?''
　　``I'll tell you all I know. I've known something ofthe family for a long time. John Wade employedme long ago. The old millionaire had a son whowent abroad and died there. His cousin, John Wade,brought home his son--a mere baby--the old man'sgrandson, of course, and sole heir, or likely to be,to the old man's wealth, if he had lived. In thatcase, John Wade would have been left out in the cold,or put off with a small bequest.''
　　``Yes. Did the boy live?''
　　``No; he died, very conveniently for John Wade,and thus removed the only obstacle from his path.''
　　``Very convenient. Do you think there was anyfoul play?''
　　``There may have been.''
　　``But I should think the old man would have suspected.''
　　``He was away at the time. When he returned tothe city, he heard from his nephew that the boy wasdead. It was a great blow to him, of course. Now,I'll tell you what,'' said Graves, sinking his voice sothat Frank found it difficult to hear, ``I'll tell youwhat I've thought at times.''
　　``I think the grandson may have been spirited offsomewhere. Nothing more easy, you know. Murderis a risky operation, and John Wade is respectable,and wouldn't want to run the risk of a halter.''
　　``You may be right. You don't connect this storyof yours with the boy you've brought here, do you?''
　　``I do,'' answered Graves, emphatically. ``Ishouldn't be surprised if this was the very boy!''
　　``What makes you think so?''
　　``First, because there's some resemblance betweenthe boy and the old man's son, as I remember him.
　　Next, it would explain John Wade's anxiety to getrid of him. It's my belief that John Wade has recognizedin this boy the baby he got rid of fourteenyears ago, and is afraid his uncle will make thesame discovery.''
　　Frank left the crevice through which he hadreceived so much information in a whirl of new andbewildering thoughts.
　　``Was it possible,'' he asked himself, ``that hecould be the grandson of Mr. Wharton, his kindbenefactor?''
Chapter 20
       It was eight o'clock the next morning beforeFrank's breakfast was brought to him.
　　``I am sorry you have had to wait,'' the housekeepersaid, as she appeared at the door with a cupof coffee and a plate of beefsteak and toast, ``Icouldn't come up before.''
　　``Have the men gone away?'' said Frank.
　　``Yes.''
　　``Then I have something to tell you. I learnedsomething about myself last night. I was in thecloset, and heard the man who brought me here talkingto another person. May I tell you the story?''
　　``If you think it will do any good,'' said thehousekeeper, but I can't help you if that is what you want.''
　　He told the whole story. As he proceeded, thehousekeeper betrayed increased, almost eager interest,and from time to time asked him questions inparticular as to the personal appearance of JohnWade. When Frank had described him as well ashe could, she said, in an excited manner:
　　``Yes, it is--it must be the same man.''
　　``The same man!'' repeated our hero, in surprise.
　　``Do you know anything about him?''
　　``I know that he is a wicked man. I am afraidthat I have helped him carry out his wicked plan,but I did not know it at the time, or I never wouldhave given my consent.''
　　``I don't understand you,'' said our hero, puzzled.
　　``Will you tell me what you mean?''
　　``Fourteen years ago I was very poor--poor andsick besides. My husband had died, leaving me nothingbut the care of a young infant, whom it wasnecessary for me to support besides myself.
　　Enfeebled by sickness, I was able to earn but little,but we lived in a wretched room in a crowdedtenement house. My infant boy was taken sick and died.
　　As I sat sorrowfully beside the bed on which he laydead, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, andadmitted a man whom I afterward learned to beJohn Wade. He very soon explained his errand. Heagreed to take my poor boy, and pay all the expensesof his burial in Greenwood Cemetery, provided Iwould not object to any of his arrangements. Hewas willing besides to pay me two hundred dollarsfor the relief of my necessities. Though I wasalmost beside myself with grief for my child's loss,and though this was a very favorable proposal, Ihesitated. I could not understand why a strangershould make me such an offer. I asked him the reason.''
　　`` `You ask too much,' he answered, appearingannoyed. `I have made you a fair offer. Will you acceptit, or will you leave your child to have a pauper'sfuneral?'
　　``That consideration decided me. For my child'ssake I agreed to his proposal, and forebore to questionhim further. He provided a handsome rosewoodcasket for my dear child, but upon the silverplate was inscribed a name that was strange to me--the name of Francis Wharton.''
　　``Francis Wharton!'' exclaimed Frank.
　　``I was too weak and sorrowful to makeopposition, and my baby was buried as Francis Wharton.
　　Not only this, but a monument is erected over himat Greenwood, which bears this name.''
　　She proceeded after a pause:
　　``I did not then understand his object. Your storymakes it clear. I think that you are that FrancisWharton, under whose name my boy was buried.''
　　``How strange!'' said Frank, thoughtfully. ``Icannot realize it. But how did you know the name ofthe man who called upon you?''
　　``A card slipped from his pocket, which I securedwithout his knowledge.''
　　``How fortunate that I met you,'' said Frank. ``Imean to let Mr. Wharton know all that I havelearned, and then he shall decide whether he willrecognize me or not as his grandson.''
　　``I have been the means of helping to deprive youof your just rights, though unconsciously. Now thatI know the wicked conspiracy in which I assisted, Iwill help undo the work.''
　　``Thank you,'' said Frank. ``The first thing is toget out of this place.''
　　``I cannot open the door of your room. They donot trust me with the key.''
　　``The windows are not very high from the ground.
　　I can get down from the outside.''
　　``I will bring you a clothesline and a hatchet.''
　　Frank received them with exultation.
　　``Before I attempt to escape,'' he said, ``tell mewhere I can meet you in New York. I want you togo with me to Mr. Wharton's. I shall need you toconfirm my story.''
　　``I will meet you to-morrow at No. 15 B--Street.''
　　``Then we shall meet to-morrow. What shall Icall your name?''
　　``Mrs. Parker.''
　　``Thank you. I will get away as quickly aspossible, and when we are in the city we will talk overour future plans.''
　　With the help of the hatchet, Frank soon demolishedthe lower part of the window. Fastening therope to the bedstead, he got out of the window andsafely descended to the ground.
　　A long and fatiguing walk lay before him. Butat last he reached the cars, and half an hour laterthe ferry at Jersey City.
　　Frank thought himself out of danger for the timebeing, but he was mistaken.
　　Standing on the deck of the ferryboat, and lookingback to the pier from which he had just started, hemet the glance of a man who had intended to takethe same boat, but had reached the pier just toolate. His heart beat quicker when he recognized inthe belated passenger his late jailer, Nathan Graves.
　　Carried away by his rage and disappointment,Nathan Graves clenched his fist and shook it at hisreceding victim.
　　Our hero walked into the cabin. He wanted achance to deliberate. He knew that Nathan Graveswould follow him by the next boat, and it wasimportant that he should not find him. Where was heto go?
　　Fifteen minutes after Frank set foot on the pier,his enemy also landed. But now the difficult partof the pursuit began. He had absolutely no clew asto the direction which Frank had taken.
　　For an hour and a half he walked the streets inthe immediate neighborhood of the square, but hislabor was without reward. Not a glimpse could hecatch of his late prisoner.
　　``I suppose I must go to see Mr. Wade,'' he at lastreluctantly decided. ``He may be angry, but he can'tblame me. I did my best. I couldn't stand guardover the young rascal all day.''
　　The address which the housekeeper had givenFrank was that of a policeman's family in whichshe was at one time a boarder. On giving his reference,he was hospitably received, and succeeded inmaking arrangements for a temporary residence.
　　About seven o'clock Mrs. Parker made herappearance. She wag fatigued by her journey and glad torest.
　　``I was afraid you might be prevented fromcoming,'' said Frank.
　　``I feared it also. I was about to start at twelveo'clock, when, to my dismay, one of the men camehome. He said he had the headache. I was obligedto make him some tea and toast. He remained abouttill four o'clock, when, to my relief, he went upstairsto lie down. I was afraid some inquiry might bemade about you, and your absence discovered, especiallyas the rope was still hanging out of the window,and I was unable to do anything more than cutoff the lower end of it. When the sick man retired tohis bed I instantly left the house, fearing that thereturn of some other of the band might prevent myescaping altogether.''
　　``Suppose you had met one of them, Mrs. Parker?''
　　``I did. It was about half a mile from the house.''
　　``Did he recognize you?''
　　``Yes. He asked in some surprise where I wasgoing. I was obliged to make up a story about ourbeing out of sugar. He accepted it without suspicion,and I kept on. I hope I shall be forgivenfor the lie. I was forced to it.''
　　``You met no further trouble?''
　　``No.''
　　``I must tell you of my adventure,'' said Frank.
　　``I came across the very man whom I most dreaded--the man who made me a prisoner.''
　　``Since he knows that you have escaped, he isprobably on your track,'' said Mrs. Parker. ``It willbe hardly safe for you to go to Mr. Wharton's.''
　　``Why?''
　　``He will probably think you likely to go there, andbe lying in wait somewhere about.''
　　``But I must go to Mr. Wharton,'' said Frank. ``Imust tell him this story.''
　　``It will be safer to write.''
　　``The housekeeper, Mrs. Bradley, or John Wade,will get hold of the letter and suppress it. I don'twant to put them on their guard.''
　　``You are right. It is necessary to be cautious.''
　　``You see I am obliged to call on my grandfather,that is, on Mr. Wharton.''
　　``I can think of a better plan.''
　　``What is it?''
　　``Go to a respectable lawyer. Tell him your story,and place your case in his hands. He will write toyour grandfather, inviting him to call at his officeon business of importance, without letting him knowwhat is the nature of it. You and I can be there tomeet him, and tell our story. In this way John Wadewill know nothing, and learn nothing, of your movements.''
　　``That is good advice, Mrs. Parker, but there isone thing you have not thought of,'' said our hero.
　　``What is that?''
　　``Lawyers charge a great deal for their services,and I have no money.''
　　``You have what is as good a recommendation--agood case. The lawyer will see at once that if not atpresent rich, you stand a good chance of obtaininga position which will make you so. Besides, yourgrandfather will be willing, if he admits your claim,to recompense the lawyer handsomely.''
　　``I did not think of that. I will do as you adviseto-morrow.''
Chapter 21
       Mr. Wharton sat at dinner with his nephew andthe housekeeper. He had been at home for sometime, and of course on his arrival had been greetedwith the news of our hero's perfidy. But, to theindignation of Mrs. Bradley and John, he was obstinatelyincredulous.
　　``There is some mistake, I am sure,'' he said. ``Sucha boy as Frank is incapable of stealing. You maybe mistaken after all, John. Why did you not lethim stay till I got back? I should like to haveexamined him myself.''
　　``I was so angry with him for repaying yourkindness in such a way that I instantly ordered him outof the house.''
　　``I blame you, John, for your haste,'' said his uncle.
　　``It was not just to the boy.''
　　``I acted for the best, sir,'' he forced himself tosay in a subdued tone.
　　``Young people are apt to be impetuous, and Iexcuse you; but you should have waited for my return.
　　I will call at Gilbert & Mack's, and inquire of Frankhimself what explanation he has to give.''
　　``Of course, sir, you will do what you think proper,''
　　said his nephew.
　　This ended the conversation, and Mr. Wharton,according to his declared intention, went to Gilbert& Mack's. He returned disappointed with theinformation that our hero was no longer in the store.
　　I now return to Mr. Wharton at dinner.
　　``Here is a letter for you, sir,'' said thehousekeeper. ``It was brought by the postman this afternoon.''
　　Mr. Wharton adjusted his spectacles and read asfollows:
　　``No.-- Wall Street.
　　``Dear Sir: Will you have the kindness to call atmy office to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock, if itsuits your convenience? I have an importantcommunication to make to you, which will, I think beof an agreeable character. Should the time namednot suit you, will you have the kindness to name yourown time?
　　``Yours respectfully,``MORRIS HALL.''
　　``Read that, John,'' said his uncle, passing himthe letter.
　　``Morris Hall is a lawyer, I believe, sir,'' said John.
　　``Have you any idea of the nature of the communicationhe desires to make?''
　　``No idea at all.''
　　``If it would relieve you, sir, I will go in yourplace,'' said John, whose curiosity was aroused.
　　``Thank you, John, but this is evidently a personalmatter. I shall go down there to-morrow at theappointed time.''
　　John was far from suspecting that the communicationrelated to Frank, though he had heard the dayprevious from Nathan Graves of the boy's escape.
　　He had been very much annoyed, and had given hisagent a severe scolding, with imperative orders torecapture the boy, if possible.
　　It was not without a feeling of curiosity that Mr.
　　Wharton entered the law office of Mr. Hall. Heannounced himself and was cordially welcomed.
　　``You have a communication to make to me,'' saidMr. Wharton.
　　``I have.''
　　``Tell me all without delay.''
　　``I will, sir. This is the communication I desire tomake.''
　　The story of John Wade's treachery was told, andthe means by which he had imposed upon his uncle,but the lawyer carefully abstained from identifyingthe lost grandson with Frank Fowler.
　　When the story was concluded, Mr. Wharton said:
　　``Where is my grandson--my poor George's boy?
　　Find him for me, and name your own reward.''
　　``I will show him to you at once, sir. Frank!''
　　At the word, Frank, who was in an inner office.
　　entered. Mr. Wharton started in amazement.
　　``Frank!'' he exclaimed. ``My dear boy, is it youwho are my grandson?''
　　``Grandfather!''
　　Mr. Wharton held out his arms, and our hero,already attached to him for his kindness, was foldedin close embrace.
　　``Then you believe I am your grandson?'' saidFrank.
　　``I believe it without further proof.''
　　``Still, Mr. Wharton,'' said the lawyer, ``I want tosubmit my whole proof. Mrs. Parker!''
　　Mrs. Parker entered and detailed her part in theplot, which for fourteen years had separated Frankfrom his family.
　　``Enough!'' said Mr. Wharton. ``I am convinced--I did not believe my nephew capable of such baseness.
　　Mrs. Parker, you shall not regret your confession.
　　I will give you a pension which will relieveyou from all fear of want. Call next week on Mr.
　　Hall, and you shall learn what provision I have madefor you. You, Frank, will return with me.''
　　``What will Mr. John say?'' asked Frank.
　　``He shall no longer sleep under my roof,'' said Mr.
　　Wharton, sternly.
　　Frank was taken to a tailor and fitted out with ahandsome new suit, ready-made for immediate use,while three more were ordered.
　　When Mr. Wharton reached home, he entered thelibrary and rang the bell.
　　To the servant who answered he said:
　　``Is Mr. John at home?''
　　``Yes, sir; he came in ten minutes ago.''
　　``Tell him I wish to see him at once in the library.
　　Summon the housekeeper, also.''
　　Surprised at the summons, John Wade answeredit directly. He and Mrs. Bradley met at the doorand entered together. Their surprise and dismaymay be conjectured when they saw our hero seatedbeside Mr. Wharton, dressed like a young gentleman.
　　``John Wade,'' said his uncle, sternly, ``the boywhom you malign, the boy you have so deeplywronged, has found a permanent home in this house.''
　　``What, sir! you take him back?''
　　``I do. There is no more fitting place for himthan the house of his grandfather.''
　　``His grandfather!'' exclaimed his nephew and thehousekeeper, in chorus.
　　``I have abundant proof of the relationship. Thismorning I have listened to the story of your treachery.
　　I have seen the woman whose son, representedto me as my grandson, lies in Greenwood Cemetery.
　　I have learned your wicked plans to defraud him ofhis inheritance, and I tell you that you have failed.''
　　``I shall make my will to-morrow, bequeathing allmy property to my grandson, excepting only an annualincome of two thousand dollars to yourself. Andnow I must trouble you to find a boarding place.
　　After what has passed I do not desire to have you inthe family.''
　　``I do not believe he is your grandson,'' said JohnWade, too angry to heed prudential considerations.
　　``Your opinion is of little consequence.''
　　``Then, sir, I have only to wish you good-morning.
　　I will send for my trunks during the day.''
　　``Good-morning,'' said Mr. Wharton, gravely, andJohn Wade left the room, baffled and humiliated.
　　``I hope, sir,'' said the housekeeper, alarmed forher position; ``I hope you don't think I knew Mr.
　　Frank was your grandson. I never was so astonishedand flustrated in my life. I hope you won'tdischarge me, sir--me that have served you so faithfullyfor many years.''
　　``You shall remain on probation. But if Frankever has any fault to find with you, you must go.''
　　``I hope you will forgive me, Mr. Frank.''
　　``I forgive you freely,'' said our hero, who was ata generous disposition.
Chapter 22
      Meanwhile poor Grace had fared badly at thepoorhouse in Crawford. It was a sad contrast to thegentle and kindly circle at Mr. Pomeroy's. Whatmade it worse for Grace was, that she could hearnothing of Frank. She feared he was sick, or hadmet with some great misfortune, which preventedhis writing.
　　One day a handsome carriage drove up to the door.
　　From it descended our hero, elegantly attired. Heknocked at the door.
　　Mrs. Chase, who was impressed by wealth, cameto the door in a flutter of respect, induced by thehandsome carriage.
　　``What do you wish, sir?'' she asked, not recognizingFrank.
　　``Miss Grace Fowler!'' repeated Mrs. Chase,almost paralyzed at Grace being called for by suchstylish acquaintances``Yes, my sister Grace.''
　　``What! are you Frank Fowler?''
　　``Yes. I have come to take Grace away.''
　　``I don't know as I have the right to let her go,''
　　said Mrs. Chase, cautiously, regretting that Gracewas likely to escape her clutches.
　　``Here is an order from Deacon Pinkerton, chairmanof the overseers of the poor.''
　　``That is sufficient. She can go. You look as ifyou had prospered in the city,'' she added, with curiosity.
　　``Yes. I have found my grandfather, who is verywealthy.''
　　``You don't say!'' ejaculated Mrs. Chase. ``I'll tellGrace at once.''
　　Grace at work in the kitchen had not heard of thearrival. What was her surprise when Mrs. Chase,entering the room, said, graciously:
　　``Go up at once, Grace, and change your clothes.
　　Your brother has come for you. He is going to takeyou away.''
　　Grace almost gasped for breath.
　　``Is it true?''
　　``It is indeed. Your brother looks remarkablywell. He is rich. He has found a rich grandfather,and has come for you in a carriage.''
　　In amazed bewilderment Grace went upstairs andput on her best dress, poor enough in comparisonwith her brother's clothes, and was soon happy inhis embrace.
　　``I am glad to see you, my dear child,'' said Mr.
　　Wharton, who had accompanied Frank. ``Will youcome to the city and live with me and your brother?''
　　``Oh, sir, I shall be glad to be wherever Frank is.''
　　``Good-bye, my dear child,'' sand Mrs. Chase, whosefeelings were very much changed, now that Gracewas a rich young lady. ``Come and see me sometime.''
　　``Thank you, Mrs. Chase. Good-bye!''
　　The carriage rolled on.
　　* * * * * * *A few words only remain. Our hero was placedat a classical school, and in due time entered college,where he acquitted himself with distinction. He isnow making a tour of Europe. Grace was alsoplaced at an excellent school, and has developed intoa handsome and accomplished young lady. It isthought she will marry Sam Pomeroy, who obtaineda place in a counting-room through Mr. Wharton'sinfluence, and is now head clerk, with a prospect ofpartnership. His father received a gift of fivethousand dollars from Mr. Wharton as an acknowledgmentof his kindness to Frank. Tom Pinkerton holdsa subordinate clerkship in the same house, and isobliged to look up to Sam as his superior. It chafeshis pride, but his father has become a poor man, andTom is too prudent to run the risk of losing hissituation. John Wade draws his income regularly, buthe is never seen at his uncle's house.
　　Mr. Wharton is very happy in his grandson, andmade happier by the intelligence just received fromEurope of Frank's engagement to a brilliant youngNew York lady whom he met in his travels. Hebids fair, though advanced in age, to live some yearsyet, to witness the happiness of his dear grandson,once a humble cash-boy.