"I think so, Rose. But he has been badly misused¹."

 

"Bill Hosker ought to be locked up for it."

 

"Nobody will lock Bill up. He has too much influence with the politicians," answered the woman.

 

She was bending over Randy, who was still unconscious. Mother and daughter had carried our hero from the yard to their room in the rear of the tenement². Nobody else had been around. The girl had witnessed Bill Hosker's nefarious³ deed and had at once summoned her parent.

 

Mrs. Clare was a poor widow lady who supported herself by sewing. Rose was her only child and did what she could to help her mother. Sewing did not pay well, and the Clares had all they could do to make both ends meet.

 

But Mrs. Clare had a warm heart and so had Rose, and it pained them greatly to see Randy so mistreated. They carried him into their one room and placed him on their bed and did what they could for him.

 

At last he opened his eyes and stared around him. Then he sat up slowly.

 

"Where am I?" he asked, faintly.

 

"We brought you into the house—mother and I," answered Rose. "Don't you remember, Bill Hosker struck you down?"

 

"Oh, yes; I remember that now." Randy took a deep breath and put his hand to his head. "He hit me pretty hard, didn't he?"

 

"I am afraid he did," answered Mrs. Clare. "It was a shame, too."

 

"Where is he now?"

 

"He ran away."

 

"He stole eighty cents from me."

 

"Perhaps he took more," said Rose. "He went through your pockets after he knocked you down. I saw him do it."

 

With his head still aching, our hero felt in first one pocket and then another. He gave something like a groan⁴.

 

"Every cent is gone!"

 

"How much did you have?"

 

"Between four and five dollars."

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