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DAN, THE NEWSBOY.

DAN,

THE NEWSBOY.

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.,

Author af "The Train Boy," ''The Errand Boy," "lony the
Hero," "Tom Temple's Career" etc., etc.

NEW YORK:
A. L. BURT, PUBLISHED,

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER. PAGE.

I, — Introducing Dan 9

II.— Dan at Home i6

III.— Gripp's Clothing Store 24

IV.— An Odd Couple 3'

v.— Efifecting a Loan 39

VI. — More than a Match 46

VII.— Mr. Gripp is Worsted 54

VIII.— Mike Rafferty's Trick 63

IX.— Mike's Theft is Discovered 69

X. — Dan as a Detective 77

XL— Dan Has Another Adventure S5

Xir. — A Mysterious Lady 93

XIIL— Althea loi

XIV.— A New Home 109

XV.— Dan Becomes a Detective 117

XVI. — Dan Makes a Discovery 125

XVIL— Talbot's Secret 133

XVIIL- Two Knights of the Highway 14^

XIX. — Dan as a Good Samaritan 150

XX.— Laying the Train i54

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER. PAGB.

XXI.— Twelve Thousand Dollars 158

XXII.— Talbot's Scheme Fails 166

XXIIL— The Calm Before the Storm 175

XXIV.— Old Jack, the Janitor 179

XXV.— The Burglary iSj

XXVI. — Dan Learns to Dance , 191

XXVIL— In the Dressing-room 195

XXVIII.— Dan at the Party 199

XXIX.— A Ne'er do Well 207

XXX.— How Hartley Got a Clew 215

XXXI. — Althea's A.bduction 222

XXXII. — Donovan's 229

XXXIII.— Althea Becomes Katy Donovan 237

XXXIV.— Another Little Game 245

XXXV.— Dan Disguises Himself 252

XXXVI. — Dan Makes a Discovery 260

XXXVII. — Dan is Discovered 264

XXXVIII. - Unpleasant Quarters 268

XXXIX. — Dan Discomfits the Donovans 272

XL. — Hartley Surprised 279

XLL— Dan is Adopted 286

XLII. — Conclusion , 292

DAN, THE NEWSBOY.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCING DAN.

*^ Evening Telegram! Only one left. Going for
two cents, and worth double the money. Buy one,
sir.?"

Attracted by the business-like tone of the newsboy,
a gentleman paused as he was ascending the steps of
the Astor House, and said, with a smile :

*'You seem to appreciate the Telegram, my boy.
Any important news this afternoon ?"

''Buy the paper, and you'll see," said the boy,
shrewdly.

"I see — you don't care to part with the news for
nothing. Well, here are your two cents."

*' Thank you, sir."

Still the gentleman lingered, his eyes fixed upon
the keen, pleasant face of the boy.

10 INTRODUCING DAN

''How many papers have you sold to-day, my
boy ?" he asked.

''Thirty-six, sir."

* ' Were they all Telegrams ? "

"No; I sell all the papers. I ain't partial. I'm
just as willing to make money on the Mail, or Com-
mercial, or Evening Post, as the Telegram.''

''I see you have an eye to business. How long
have you dealt in papers.?"

"Three years, sir."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"What did you do before you sold papers?"

A shadow rested on the boy's bright face.

"I didn't have to work then, sir," he said. "My
father was alive, and he was well off. We lived in a
nice house up town, and I went to a private school.
But all at once father failed, and soon afterward he
died, and then everything was changed. I don't like
to think about it, sir."

The gentleman's interest was strongly excited.

"It is a sad story," he said. "Is your mother
living?"

"Yes, sir. The worst of it is, that I don't make
enough to support us both, and she has to work,
too.

"What does she do?"

WTRODVCING DAN. x\

"She makes vests for a man on Chatham street."

**I hope she is well paid."

**That she is not. He only allows her twenty cents
apiece. "

"That is a mere pittance. She can't earn much at
that rate. "

"No, sir; she has to work hard to make one vest
a day."

* * The man can't have a conscience, " said the gentle-
man, indignantly. "It is starvation wages."

"So it is, sir, but he pretends that he pays more
than the work is worth. Oh, he's a mean fellow,"
pursued the boy, his face expressive of the scorn and
disgust which he felt.

"What is your name, my boy?"

"Dan, sir — Dan Mordaunt."

"I hope, Dan, you make more money tha^ your
mother does."

"Oh, yes, sir. Sometimes I make a dollar a day,
but I don't average that. I wish I could make enough
so that mother wouldn't have to work."

"I see you are a good son. I like to hear you
speak in such terms of your mother."

"If I didn't," said Dan, impetuously, "I should
deserve to be kicked. She's a good mother, sir."
"I have no doubt of it. It must be hard for her

f2 INTRODUCING DAN.

to be so reduced after once living liberally. How hap-
pened it that jour father failed?"

The boy's pleasant face assumed a stern expression.

**0n account of a rascal, sir. His book-keeper
ran off, carrying with him thirty thousand dollars.
Father couldn't meet his bills, and so he failed. It
broke his heart, and he didn't live six months after it."'

" Have you ever heard of this book-keeper since?"

*'No, sir, not a word. I wish I could. I should
like to see him dragged to prison, for he killed my
father, and made my mother work for a living."

"I can't blame you, Dan, for feeling as you do.
Besides, it has altered your prospects."

"I don't care for myself, sir. I can forget that.
But I can't forgive the injury he has done my poor
father and mother."

" Have you any idea what became of the defaulter?"

" We think that he went to Europe, just at first, but
probably he returned when he thought all was safe."

'' He may have gone out West."

"I shouldn't wonder, sir."

" I live in the W"est myself — in Chicago."

"That's a lively city, isn't it, sir?"

"We think so out there. Well, my lad, I must go
into the hotel now."

"Excuse me for detaining you, sir," said Dan,
politely.

mTRODVcmc dan. j.^

"Ycu haven't detained me; you have interested
me. I hope to see you again."

"Thank you, sir."

''Where do you generally stand.?"

"Just here, sir. A good many people pass here,
and I find it a good stand."

"Then I shall see you again, as I propose to re-
main in New York for a day or two. Shall you have
the morning papers.?"

"Yes, sir; all of them."

"Then I will patronize you to-morrow morning.
Good-day. "

"Good-day, sir."

"He's a gentleman," said Dan to himself, emphatic-
ally. "It isn't every one that feels an interest in a
poor newsboy. Well, I may as well be going home.
It's lonely for mother staying by herself all day. Let
me see; what shall I take her.? Oh, here are some
pears. She's ver}^ fond of pears. "

Dan inquired the price of pears at a street stand,
and finally selected one for three cents.

"Better take two for five cents," said the fruit
merchant.

"I can't aff'ord it," said Dan. "Times are hard,
and I have to look after the pennies. I wouldn't buy
any at all if it wasn't for my mother. "

14 INTRODUCING DAN.

''Better take another for yourself/' urged the
huckster.

Dan shook his head.

''Can't afford it/' he said. "I must get along
without the luxuries. Bread and butter is good
enough for me."

Looking up, Dan met the glance of a boy who
was passing — a tall, slender, supercilious-looking boy,
who turned his head away scornfully as he met Dan's
glance.

"I know him," said Dan to himself. "I ought to
know Tom Carver. We used to sit together at school.
But that was when father was rich. He won't notice
me now. Well, I don't want him to," proceeded Dan,
coloring indignantly. " He thinks himself above me,
but he needn't. His father failed, too, but he went
on living just the same. People say he cheated his
creditors. M7 poor father gave up all he had, and
sank into poverty."

This was what passed through Dan'*^ mind. The
other boy — Tom Carver — had recognized Dan, but
did not choose to show it.

"I wonder whether Dan Mordaunt expected me to
notice him," he said to himself "I used to go to
school with him, but now that he is a low newsboy I
can't stoop to speak to him. What would my fashion-
able friends say?"

INTRODUCING DAN. j-

Tom Carver twirled his delicate cane and walked on
complacently, feeling no pity for the schoolfellow with
whom he used to be so intimate. He was intensely
selfish— a more exceptional thing with boys than men.
It sometimes happens that a boy who passes for good-
hearted changes into a selfish man; but Tom required
no change to become that. His heart was a very small
one, and beat only for himself.

Dan walked on, and finally paused before a large
tenement-house. He went in at the main entrance,
and ascended two flights of stairs. He opened a door,
and found himself in the presence of the mother
whom he so dearly loved.

1 6 DAN AT HOME.

CHAPTER 11.

DAN AT HOME.

While Dan was strong, sturdy, and the picture of
health, his mother was evidently an invalid. She was
pale, thin, and of delicate appearance. She was sit-
ting in a cane-seated rocking-chair, which Dan had
bought second-hand on one of his flush days at a
small place on the Bowery. She looked up with a
glad smile when Dan entered.

•' I am so glad to see you, my dear boy," she said.

•' Have you been lonely, mother?" asked Dan, kiss-
ing her affectionately.

'•Yes, Dan, it is lonely sitting here hour after hour
without you, but I have my work to think of"

"I wish you didn't have to work, mother," said
Dan. " You are not strong enough. I ought to earn
enough to support us both. "

"Don't trouble yourself about that, my dear boy.
I should feel more lonely if I had nothing to do."

''But you work all the time. I don't like to have
you do that. "

In truth the mother was very tired, and her feebly

DAN AT HOME. 1 7

fingers were cramped with the stitch, stitch, stitch
in endless repetition, but she put on a cheerful coun-
tenance.

"Well, Dan, I'll stop now that you are at home.
You want some supper. "

''Let me get it, mother."

"No, Dan, it will be a relief to me to stir around a
little, as I have been sitting so long. "

"Oh, I nearly forgot, mother — here's a nice pear I
bought for you."

"It does look nice," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "I
don't feel hungry, but I can eat that. But where is
yours, Dan.^"

"Oh, I've eaten mine," answered Dan, hastily.
It was not true, but God will forgive such false-
hoods.

"You'd better eat half of this."

"No; I'll be flummuxed if I do," said Dan,

pausing a little for an unobjectionable word.

Mrs. Mordaunt set the little table for two. On it
she spread a neat cloth, and laid the plain supper — a
plate of bread, ditto of butter, and a few slices of cold
meat. Soon the tea was steeped, and mother and son
sat down for the evening meal.

"I say, mother, this is a jolly supper," said Dan,
"I get awfully hungry by supper-time."

1 8 DAN AT HOME.

**You are a growing boy, Dan. I am glad you
have an appetite. "

"But you eat next to nothing, mother," said Dan,
uneasily.

"I am not a growing boy," said Mrs. Mordaunt,
smiling. "I shall relish my supper to-night on ac-
count of the pear you brought me."

''Well, I'm glad I thought of it," said Dan, heart-
ily. "Pears ain't solid enough for me; I want some-
thing hearty to give me strength. "

"Of course you do, Dan. You have to work
hard. "

"I work hard, mother! Why, I have the easiest
time going. AH I do is to walk about the streets, or
stand in front of the Astor House and ask people to
buy my papers. Oh, by the way, who do you think I
saw to-day.?"

"Any of our old friends.?" asked Mrs. Mordaunt.

"Any of our old friends! I should say not," an-
swered Dan, disdainfully. "It was Tom Carver."

"Was it he.? He used to sit next you in school,
didn't he.?"

"Yes, for six months. Tom and I were chums."

" Did he say whether his family was well.?"

"What are you thinking of, mother.? Do you sup
pose Tom Carver would notice me, now that I an:>
a poor newsboy?"

DAN AT HOME.

•^Why shouldn't he?" demanded the mother, her
pale face flushing. "Why shouldn't he notice my
boy?"

''Because he doesn't choose to/' answered Dan,
with a short laugh. "Didn't you know it was dis-
graceful to be poor?"

"Thank Heaven, it isn't that!" ejaculated Mrs.
Mordaunt.

"Well, it might as well be. Tom thinks me be-
neath his notice now. You should have seen him turn
his head to the other side as he walked by, twirling his
light cane."

" Did you speak to him, Dan?"

"What do you take me for, mother? Do you
think I'd speak to a fellow that doesn't want to
know me?"

"I think you are proud, my boy."

"Well, mother. I guess you're right. I'm too
proud to force myself upon the notice of Tom Carver,
or any other purse-proud sneak."

Dan spoke with a tinge of bitterness, and it was
evident that he felt Tom's slight more than he was
willing to acknowledge.

"It's the way of the world, Dan," said his mother,
sighing. "Not one of all my friends, or those whom
I accounted such, in my prosperous days, has come to
gee us, or shown any interest in our fate, "

DAN AT HOME.

*'They can stay away. We can do without them/'
said Dan, sturdily.

''We must; but it would be pleasant to see some
of the old faces," said his mother, plaintively. ''There
is no one in this house that is company for me."

"No, mother; you are an educated and refined
lady, and they are poor and ignorant. "

"They are very good people, some of them. There
is Mrs. Burke on the next floor. She was in this after-
noon, and asked if she couldn't do something for me.
She thought I looked poorly, she said."

"She's a brick, mother 1"

"My dear Dan, you do use such extraordinary lan-
guage sometimes. You didn't talk so when we lived
on Madison avenue."

' ' No, mother, but I associate with a different class
now. I can't help catching the phrases I hear all the
time. But don't mind, mother; I mean no harm. I
never swear — that is, almost never. I did catch my-
self at it the other day, when another newsboy stole
half a dozen of my papers. "

" Don't forget that you are a gentleman, Dan."

"I won't if I can help it, mother, though I don't
believe anybody else would suspect it. I must take
good care not to look into the looking-glass, or I
might be under the impression that I was a street-boy
instead of a gentleman, "

DAN AT HOME. 21

'* Clothes don't make the gentleman, Dan. I want
you to behave and feel like a gentleman, even if your
clothes are poor and patched. "

''I understand you, mother, and I shall try to
follow your advice. I have never done any mean
thing yet that I can remember, and I don't in-
tend to."

' '' I am sure of that, my dear boy. "

"Don't be too sure of anything, mother. I have.

plenty of bad examples before me. "
" But you won't be guided by them .?"'
"I'll try not."

" Did you succeed well in your sales to-day, Dan?"
"Pretty well. I made ninety-six cents."
"I wish I could earn as much," said Mrs. Mor-

daunt, sighing. "I can only earn twenty cents a

day."

"You earn as much as I do, mother, but you don't
get it. You see, there's a difference in earning and
being paid. Old Gripp is a mean skinflint. I should
like to force one of his twenty-cent vests down his
miserly throat."

"Don't use such violent language, Dan. Perhaps
he pays me all he can afford/'

"Perhaps he does, but I wouldn't bet high on it.
He is making a fortune out of those who sew for him,

22 DAN AT HOME.

There are some men that have no conscience. I hope
some time you will be free from him."

*'I hope so, too, Dan, but I am thankful to earn
something. I don't want all the burden of our main-
tenance to fall on jou. "

''Don't call it a burden, mother. There's nothing
I enjoy so much as working for you. Why, it's fun !"

''It can't be fun on rainy, disagreeable days, Dan."

" It wouldn't be fun for you, m.other, but you're not
a boy."

"I am so sorry that you can't keep on with your
education, Dan. You were getting on so well at
school. "

It was a thought that had often come to Dan, but
he wouldn't own it, for he did not wish to add to his
mother's sadness.

"Oh, well, mother," he said, "something may turn
up for us, so we won't look down in the mouth."

"I have got my bundled work ready, Dan, if you
can carry it round to Mr. Gripp's to-night. "

"Yes, mother, I'll carry it. How many vests are
there.?"

"There are six. That amounts to a dollar and
twenty cents. I hope he'll pay you to-night, for our
rent comes due to-morrow. "

"So it does !" ejaculated Dan, seriously. " I never

DAN AT HOME. 23

thought of it. Shall we have enough to pay it?
You've got my money, you know."

"We shall be a dollar short."

•'Even if old Gripp pays for the vests.?"

''Yes."

Dan whistled — a whistle of dismay and anxiety, for
he well knew that the landlord was a hard man.

24 QRIPP'S CLOTHING STORE.

CHAPTER III.

GRIPP S CLOTHING STORE.

Nathan Gripp's clothing store was located about a
quarter of a mile from the City Hall, on Chatham
street. Not many customers from Fifth avenue owned
him as their tailor, and he had no reputation up town.
His prices were undeniably low, though his clothes
were dear enough in the end.

His patrons were in general from the rural districts,
or city residents of easy tastes and limited means.

The interior of the store was ill-lighted, and looked
like a dark cavern. But nearly half the stock was dis-
played at the door, or on the sidewalk, Mr. Gripp
himself, or his leading salesman, standing in the door-
way with keen, black eyes, trying to select from the
moving crowds possible customers.

On the whole Gripp was making money. He sold
his clothes cheap, but they cost him little. He paid
the lowest prices for work, and whenever told that his
wages would not keep body and soul together, ho
simply remarked :

"That's nothing to me, my good woman. If you
don't like the pay, leave the work for somebody else. "

GRIPP'S CLOTHING STORE. 25

But unfortunately those who worked for Mr. Gripp
could not afford to leave the work for somebody else.
Half wages were better than none, and they patiently
kept on wearing out their strength that Nathan might
wax rich, and live in good style up town.

Mr. Gripp himself was standing in the door-way
when Dan, with the bundle of vests under his arm,
stopped in front of the store. Mr. Gripp was a little
doubtful whether our hero wished to become a cus-
tomer, but a glance at the bundle dispelled his uncer-
tainty, and revealed the nature of his errand.

''I've brought home half a dozen vests," said Dan.

"Who from.?" asked Gripp, abruptly, for he never
lavished any of the suavity, w^hich was a valuable part
of his stock in trade, on his work people.

''Mrs. Mordaunt."

*'Take them into the store. Here, Samuel, take
the boy's bundle, and see if the work is well done. "

It was on the tip of Dan's tongue to resent the
doubt which these words implied, but he prudently
remained silent.

The clerk, a callow youth, with long tow-colored
locks, made sleek with bear's grease, stopped picking
his teeth, and motioned to Dan to come forw^ard.

"Here, young feller," he said, "hand over your
bundle."

"There it is, young feller!" retorted Dan,

26 GRIFF'S CLOTHING STORE.

The clerk surveyed the boy with a look of disap-
proval in his fishy eyes.

"No impudence, young feller !" he said.

"Where's the impudence?"' demanded Dan. "I
don't see it."

"Didn't you call me a young feller.?"

"You've called me one twice, but I ain't at all par-
ticular. I'd just as lief call you an old feller," said
Dan, affably.

"Look here, young chap, I don't like your man-
ners," said the clerk, with an irritating conscious-
ness that he was getting the worst of the verbal en-
counter.

"I'm sorry for that," answered Dan, "because
they're the best I've got. "

"Did you make these vests yourself.?" asked the
salesman, with a feeble attempt at humor.

"Yes," was Dan's unexpected rejoinder. "That's
the way I amuse my leisure hours. "

"Humph !" muttered the tallow-faced young man,
** I'll take a look at them."

He opened the bundle, and examined the vests with
an evident desire to find something wrong.

He couldn't find any defect, but that didn't prevent
his saying :

"They ain't over-well made."

GRIFF'S CIO THING STORE.

**Well, they won't be over-well paid," retorted Dan.
*'So we're even."

"I don't know if we ought to pay for them at all."

"Honesty is the best policy, young feller," said
Dan.

"No more of your impudence!" said the clerk,
sharply. "Wait here a minute till I speak to Mr.

npp.

He kept Dan before the counter, and approached
the proprietor.

"Well, what is it, Samuel?" asked Mr, Gripp,
stroking his jet-black whiskers. "Are the vests all
right.?"

"Pretty well, sir, but the boy is impudent."

"Ha! how is that.?"

" He keeps calling me 'young feller.'"

"Anything more?"

"He don't seem to have any respect for me — or
you," he added, shrewdly.

Nathan Gripp frowned. He cared very little about
his clerk, but he resented any want of respect to him-
self. He felt that the balance at his bankers was large
enough to insure him a high degree of consideration
from his wcrk-people at least.

"How many vests are there?" he asked.

"Half a dozen."

"And the boy wants his pay, I suppose."

28 GRIFF'S CLOTHING STORE.

"He hasn't asked for it, but he will. They always
do."

"Tell him we only pay when a full dozen are fin-
ished and brought in. We'll credit him, or his moth-
er, with these.'

"That'll pay them off," thought the astute clothing
merchant.

Samuel received this order with inward satisfaction,
and went back smiling.

"Well, young feller," said he, "it's all right. The
vests ain't over-well done, but we'll keep 'em. Now
you can go."

But Dan did not move.

"It seems to me you've forgotten something," he
said.

"What's that.?"

"You haven't paid me for the work."

"It's all right. We'll pay when the next half dozen
are brought in. Will you take 'em now?"

Dan was disagreeably surprised. This was entirely
out of the usual course, and he knew very well that
the delay would be a great inconvenience.

"We've always been paid when we brought in
work," he said.

"We've changed our rule," said the clerk, noncha-
lantly. "We only pay when a full dozen are brought
in/'

GRIPP'S CLOTHING STOP.E.

"What difference does it make to you? We need
the money, and can't wait/'

''It's my orders, young feller. It's what Mr, Gripp
just told me."

"Then I'll speak to him," said Dan, promptly.

"Just as you like."

Dan approached the proprietor of the establish-
ment.

"Mr. Gripp," said he, "I've just brought in half a
dozen vests, but your clerk here won't pay me for
them."

"You will get your pay, young man, when you
bring in another half dozen. "

"But, Mr, Gripp, we need the money. We haven't
got a big bank account. Our rent is due to-morrow."

" Is it, indeed.? I don't see how that concerns me."

"Will you pay me to-night as a favor?" pleaded
Dan, humbling himself for his mother's sake.

"I can't break over my rule," said Nathan Gripp.
"Besides, Samuel says the work isn't very well done."

"Then he lies !" exclaimed Dan, provoked.

"Do you hear that, Mr. Gripp?" ejaculated the
angry Samuel, his tallowy complexion putting on a
faint flush. "Didn't I tell you he was impudent?"

Nathan Gripp's small black eyes snapped viciously.

"Boy," said he, "leave my store directly. How

GRIPP'S CLOTHING STORE,

dare you address me in such a way, you young
tramp?"

"I'm no more a tramp than yourself/' retorted Dan,
now thoroughly angry.

"Samuel, come here, and put out this boy!" ex-
claimed Nathan, too dignified to attempt the task
himself.

Samuel advanced, nothing loth, his fishy eyes gleam-
ing with pleasure.

"Get out, you vagabond!" he exclaimed, in the
tone of authority.

"You're a couple of swindlers!" exclaimed Dan.
"You won't pay for honest work."

"Out with him, Samuel !" ordered Gripp.

Samuel seized Dan by the shoulder, and attempted
to obey orders, but our hero doubled him up with a
blow from his fist, and the luckless clerk, faint and
gasping, staggered and nearly fell.

Dan stepped out on the sidewalk, and raising his
hat, said, with mock politeness, "Good-morning,
gentlemen !" and walked away, leaving Gripp and his
assistant speechless with anger.

" you're a couple of swindlers ! ' ' exclaimed Dan. ' ' You won't
pay for honest work." [Page 30.

AN ODD COUPLE,

CHAPTER IV.

AN ODD COUPLE

When Dan's excitement was over, he felt that he
had won a barren victory. He had certainly been
badly treated, and was justified in yielding to his nat-
ural indignation ; but for all that he had acted un-
wisely.

Nathan Gripp had not refused payment, he had
only postponed it, and as he had the decided advan-
tage, which money always has when pitted against
labor, it would have been well to have been concilia-
tory. Now Gripp would undoubtedly annoy him with
further delay, and refuse to give Mrs. Mordaunt any
further work.

''I suppose I've acted like a fool," said Dan to him-
self, with compunction. " My spunk is always getting
the better of me, and I am afraid poor mother will
have to suffer. Well, there's no use crying for spilt
milk; I must see what I can do to mend matters."

While these thoughts were passing through Dan's
mind he found himself passing the clothing establish-

AN ODD COUPLE.

ment of Jackson & Co., who were special rivals o^
Mr. Gripp.

''Perhaps I can get some work for mother here,"
thought Dan. 'Til try, at any rate."

He entered, and looking about him, attracted the
attention of a clerk.

"Do you want something in our line to-day?"
asked the clerk, pleasantly.

"Yes, I do," said Dan, "if you're giving things
away ; but as I've got a note of ten thousand dollars
to meet to-morrow, I can't pay anything out. "

"Your credit ought to be good," said the salesman,
smiling, "but we don't trust."

' ' All right, " said Dan ; "I may as well proceed to
business. My mother makes vests for amusement.
Can you give her any work .?"

"I will speak to Mr. Jackson. One of our hands
is sick, and if your mother understands how to do the
work, we may be able to give her some. "

The young man went to the rear of the store, and
returned with the proprietor.

"Has your mother any experience.?" asked the pro-
prietor, a big man, with sandy whiskers.

He was an Englishman, as any one might see, and
a decided improvement on Nathan Gripp, whom he
cordially hate^,

AN ODD COUPLE. 23

''Yes, sir; she has been making vests for the last
two years. "

*'For whom has she been working?"

'•For Nathan Gripp."

''Humph ! Has Gripp discharged her?"

"No, sir; she has discharged him."

Mr. Jackson laughed, and nodded to his salesman.
He rather enjoyed this allusion to his rival.

"Then she didn't like Gripp?"

"No, sir. He paid her starvation wages and made
her wait for the money. He's a mean fellow."

"I don't admire him much myself," said the Eng-
Hshman. "How much now did he pay for vest-mak-
ing?"

"Twenty cents apiece."

"We don't pay much more ourselves. There is so
much competition that we have to sell low."

"Mother would rather make for you at eighteen
cents than for Gripp for twenty, " said Dan.

Mr. Jackson was pleased, but he said, by way of
drawing out Dan :

"How do you know but I am a mean skinflint,
too?"

"You don't look like one," said the boy.
Mr. Jackson smiled graciously.

"Joseph," said he, "have we any vests ready for
making?"

24 AN ODD COUPLE.

''Yes, sir. We have some bundles of half a dozen
each. "

''Take this boy's name and address and give him
one. My boy, we will pay your mother twenty-five
cents each, but we expect good work. "

"You will be satisfied, sir," said Dan, confidently,
and he left the store in excellent spirits.

"It's turned out right, after all," thought he ; "but
I am afraid we shall miss the money old Gripp owed
mother. I don't know how we are going to pay the
rent to-morrow. We shall be over two dollars short
unless something turns up.''

Dan carried the bundle of work home, and told
his mother what had happened. She was pleased
with the increase of pay, but that was in the future.
It would be a week before she could collect any pay
from Jackson & Co., and the landlord would not
wait.

"I wish I could think of some way of raising
money," said Dan, putting his face between his
hands and looking thoughtful. "If you only had
some jewels, mother, that we could raise money on
now, we would be all right. "

"I have nothing but my wedding-ring," said Mrs.
Mordaunt, sadly.

"You mu?t keep that, mother. Don't part with
that unless you are obliged to. "

AN ODD COUPLE. ^r

*'I would rather not, Dan, but if there is no other
way "

"There must be another way. I will find another
way. Just don't think of it any more, mother. When
does the landlord come.?"

"Generally between twelve and one."

"Then we shall have all the forenoon to forage
round in. It's only two dollars and a half we want.
I ought to be able to raise two dollars and a half."

"That is a great deal of money to us now, Dan."

"I wonder whether Shorty wouldn't lend it to me.?"
said Dan, reflectively.

"Who is Shorty, my son.?"

"He is a little hump-backed dwarf that keeps a
cigar stand down on Broadway, not far from Trinity
Church. He has a good trade, and doesn't waste his
money. Yes, I will ask Shorty."

' ' I hope he will be willing to grant your request,
Dan."

"I hope so, too. He's a good-natured fellow,
Shorty is, and he'll do it, if he can. I'll see him
the first thing to-morrow morning."

Somewhat cheered by Dan's confident tone, Mrs.
Mordaunt went to sleep as early as usual, forgetting
the trouble possibly in store.

The next morning, before selling his papers, Dan
went round to Shorty's stand,

AN ODD COUPLE,

*' Good-morning, Dan," said the dwarf, in a singU'
larly melodious voice.

'•'Good-morning, Shorty. I thought I'd find you
here."

''Yes, I begin business early "

''I am going to ask a favor of you," said Dan, ab-
ruptly.

''What is it, Dan.?"

"Our rent's due to day, and we are two dollars and
a half short. I can make the fifty cents before noon.
Can you lend me two dollars till I am able to pay it?"

To Dan's dismay Shorty shook his head.

"I wish I could, Dan, but there's something in the
way. "

"If you're afraid I won't pay you back, you needn't
think of that. I never went back on a fellow that lent
me money yet."

"I am not afraid of trusting you, Dan, but I haven't
got the money. "

"I understand," said Dan, coldly, for he suspected
this to be a subterfuge.

"No, you don't understand," said Shorty, eagerly.
"You think what I say is a sham, but you wouldn't
if you knew all."

"If I knew all," repeated Dan, surprised.

"Yes, I shall have to tell you. I didn't mean to,
but I don't want you to misunderstand me. The fact

AN ODD COUPLE. 37

is, Dan," Shorty added, sheepishly, ''I've got more
than myself to provide for now. ''

"What? You don't mean to say?'' ejaculated Dan.

"I was married yesterday, Dan," said the cigar
dealer, almost apologetically, ''and I've been buying
furniture, and the fact is, I haven't got a cent to
spare. "

"Of course you haven't," said Dan. "I never
dreamed of this. Is your wife — about your size ?"

"No, Dan, she's rather tall. There she Is, crossing
the street. Do you see her ?"

Dan looked, and saw a tall woman, of twenty-five
or thereabouts, approaching the cigar stand. She
was very plain, with a large mouth and a long,
aquiline nose.

"That's my wife," said the cigar dealer, regarding
his tall partner with evident pride. "Julia, my dear,
this is my friend, Dan Mordaunt. "

"Glad to see any friend of my husband," said the
lady, in a deep, hoarse voice, which might have been
mistaken for a man's. "He must come and see us."

"So I will, thank you," answered Dan, surveying
the female grenadier with a wondering glance.

"We live at No. — Varick street, Dan, and I shall
be very glad to see you any evening. "

"By gracious!" said Dan to himself, "that's the
queerest match I ever heard of. She might take

AN ODD COUPLE.

Shorty up in her arms and carry him off. I don't
think he'll beat her very often," and Dan smiled at
the thought.

The morning wore away, and at eleven o'clock Dan
had earned forty cents. He began to get discouraged.
There didn't seem to be much pro^^pect of raising the
rent before twelve o'clock.

EFFECTING A LOAN,

CHAPTER V.

EFFECTING A LOAN.

As Dan stood on the sidewalk with his bundle of
papers, and only forty cents toward the two dollars
and a half required for the rent, he felt like many a
business man who has a note to meet and not enough
money on hand to pay it. Indeed, he was worse off,
for generally business men have friends who can help
them with a temporary loan, but Dan's friends were
quite as poor as himself One, however, Dick Stan-
ton, a mere boy, had the reputation of being more
saving than his companions. It was known that he
had an account in the Bowery Savings Bank, and
among the street boys he was considered wealthy.

* ' Perhaps I can borrow two dollars of him, " thought
Dan, as Dick passed him on his way to Canal street.

''I say, Dick,'' said Dan, ''stop a minute. I want
to speak to you. "

'' Go ahead, Dan."

''I want you to lend me two dollars. Our rent is
due, and I can raise it all but that."

Dick shook his head, and was about to speak, when

40 EFFECTING A LOAN.

Dan said hurriedly, for he felt that it was his last
chance :

"You needn't be afraid of me, Dick; I'll pay you
sure, and give you more interest, too, than you get in
the bank."

** I haven't got any money in the bank, Dan."

*' You had last week," said Dan, suspiciously.

"So I had, but I haven't now."

"You don't want to lend — that's what's the matter."

"You are mistaken, Dan. I'm not a bit afraid of
lending to you, but I have lent my money already."

"Who to.?" asked Dan, ungrammatically, falling
into a mistake made by plenty of greater age and
better experience than himself "Of course it isn't
any of my business," he added, "if you don't want
to tell."

"I don't mind telling you, Dan. I've lent it to
my aunt. She's got two children, and a hard time to
get along. Perhaps I shall never see it again, but I
couldn't refuse her."

"Of course you couldn't," said Dan, heartily.
"You've done right, and you won't be sorry for it.
I wish I knew some way of making tv/o dollars before
twelve o'clock."

"Are you in urgent need of two dollars, my boy?"
asked a pleasant voice.

EFFECTING A LOAN.

Dan turned, and met the face of the stranger in-
troduced in the first chapter.

**Yes, sir," he answered. *'I want it the worst
way. ''

*''Have you been extravagant and run up bills,
Dan?"

'•'No, sir; the only bill we have is the rent, and
that comes due this noon."

*' How much is it.?"

**Six dollars, sir."

*'I thought you said you wanted to borrow two
dollars."

"I've got four dollars toward it, sir."

"Do you often fall behind when rent day comes,
Dan r

"No, sir; this is the first time in two years."

"How do you account for it.? Has business been
duller than usual during the last month.?"

"Yes, sir, I think it has. There hasn't been as
much news in the papers, and my sales have fallen off.
There's another thing, too. "

"What is that.?"

"Mother has a dollar and twenty cents due her,
and she can't collect it. "

"Is it for making vests.?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Gripp won't pay till she has made
a full dozen. "

^2 EFPECTthTG A LOAN.

'' That seems inconsiderate. "

" Oh, he's a mean fellow."

*' I've a great mind to buy the debt of you."

"1 wish you would, sir," said Dan, eagerly. "ThaV
would leave only sixty cents short, for I shall make
ten cents more before twelve o'clock, it's likely. "

*'It is only half-past eleven. To put you quite at
ease, I mean to lend you five dollars, and help you
collect your mother's bill."

**You are very kind, sir," said Dan, surprised and
grateful; *'but I don't need so much."

* ' You may get short again when I am not here to
assist you."

** Are you not afraid I shall never pay you, sir.?"

''That thought won't keep me awake nights," said
the gentleman, laughing.

''You sha'n't lose anything by me, sir; I promise
you that, " said Dan, earnestly.

"Then come into the hotel with me, and we will
arrange the matter in a business-like way. "

''AH right, sir."

Dan followed his new friend into the Astor House,
and up stairs into a pleasant bedroom, which in its
comfortable apartments reminded Dan of the days
before his father's failure.

"I wish I could live so again," he thought. "I
don't like a tenement-house. "

EFFECTING A LOAN. 43

Mr. Grant — for this was his name — took writing
materials from his valise, and seated himself at a
table.

"I am going to draw up a note for you to sign/'
he said. *'I probably understand better than you the
necessary form. "

"Thank you, sir."

His pen ran rapidly over the paper, and in a

minute or two he handed Dan the following form of

acknowledgment :

"New York, Sept. 15, 18—.
* ' For value received I promise to pay to Alexander Grant five
dollars on demand with interest."

**Now/' said Mr. Grant, "put your name at the
bottom. "

Dan did so.

"I added 'with interest/ but only as a form; I
shall require none."

"I would rather pay it, sir."

"That may be as you please. How much will six
per cent, interest make it amount to in a year.?"

"Five dollars and thirty cents," answered Dan,
promptly.

"Good! I see you have not forgotten what you
learned in school."

"I have ciphered through cube root," said Dan,
with some pride. "I am not sure whether I re-

44 EFFECTING A LOAN.

member that now, but I could do any sum in square
root. "

*'It is a pity you could not have remained in
school. "

**I should like to; but it's no. use crying for spilt
milk." ' "^

*'As long as you didn't spill it yourself/' added
Mr. Grant.

"No, sir; it was not my fault that I had to leave
school. "

Mr. Grant folded up the note and carefully de-
posited it in his wallet.

''The next thing is to hand you the money," he
said. "Shall I give you a five-dollar bill, or small
bills.?"

" Small bills, sir, if it is just as convenient."

Mr. Grant placed in Dan's hands two two-dollar
bills and a one.

"One thing more," he said. "Give me an order
on Mr. Gripp for the money due your mother. It is
as well to have it in your own handwriting. I won't
tell you how to write it. See if you can find a way."

Dan wrote an order, which Mr. Grant pronounced
satisfactory.

"On the whole," said he, "I believe I will take
you with me when I call upon Mr. Gripp. Can you
call here at three o'clock this afternoon .?"

EFFECTING A LOAN.

*'Yes, sir."

"That is settled, then. We will see whether Mr.
Gripp will be any more polite to me than he was to
you."

'' He will be surprised to see me in your company,"
said Dan, laughing.

''It is a good thing to surprise the enemy, Dan. A
surprise often leads to victory. When does your land-
lord call for his rent?"

''Between twelve and one."

"Then I won't detain you longer. Remember
your appointment at three."

"I won't forget it, sir."

"Well, I'm in luck!" said Dan to himself, as he
emerged into the street. "Who would have thought
that a stranger would lend me so large a sum } He's
a trump, and no mistake. Now, if I could only sell
the four papers I have left before twelve o'clock. I
don't want to get stuck on them."

Fortune was not tired of favoring Dan. In ten
minutes he had sold his papers, and turned his steps
toward the humble home where his mother was await-
ing, not without anxiety, the visit of an unamiable
landlord.

46 MORE THAN A MATCH.

CHAPTER VI.

MORE THAN A MATCH.

Mrs. Mordaunt looked up anxiously as Dan entered
the room. She had little expectation that he had been
able in one morning to make up the large deficiency
in the sum reserved for the rent, but there was a possi-
bility, and she clung to that. Dan thought of post-
poning the relation of his good news, but when he
saw his mother's anxious face, he felt that it would be
cruel.

So when she said, ''Well, Dan?" he nodded his
head cheerfully.

^Tve got it, mother," he said.

*' Thank God for all His goodness!" ejaculated
Mrs. Mordaunt, fervently.

*'You see He hasn't forgotten us," said Dan, glee-
fully.

*'No, my boy, it is a rebuke to my momentary want
of faith. How could you raise so large a sum ? Surely
you did not earn it in one forenoon?"

''You're right there, mother. I'm not smart
enough to earn two dollars before twelve o'clock,"

MORE THAN A MATCH. 47

'' But youVe got the money, Dan ?'*

*'Look at this, mother," and Dan displayed the
bills.

*' Where did you get them, Dan?" asked his
mother, astonished.

" I borrowed them."

''I didn't know we had a friend left, able or willing
to lend us that sum."

**I borrowed them of Alexander Grant, of St.
Louis, and gave my note for them," answered Dan,
in a tone of some importance.

''Alexander Grant, of St. Louis! I don't remem-
ber that name."

''He's a new friend of mine, mother. I haven't
known him over twenty-four hours. As the old friends
have treated us so badly, I'm goin' in for new ones. "

"You quite mystify me, Dan. Tell me all about
it.

Dan did so.

"He's very kind to a stranger, Dan. Heaven will
reward him, I am sure. "

"I hope it will, mother. I wish I was a rich man.
I should enjoy helping those who needed it. If I ever
get rich — though it it doesn't look much like it now —
I will do all the good I can. I wonder rich men don't
do it oftener. " •

" It springs from thoughtlessness sometimes, Dan,"

48 MORE THAN A MATCH.

''And from selfishness pretty often," added Dan,
whose views of human nature were considerably less
favorable than they had been in his more prosperous
days. *'A good many men are like Tom Carver, as
he is now and will be when he is grown up."

"Perhaps there are more good and generous men
than we suppose, Dan," urged his mother, who liked
to think well of her fellow-beings.

''Like Mr. Gripp and our landlord, for instance.
By the way, I hear Mr. Grab's steps on the stairs. I
want to deal with him. Just you step into the bed-
room, mother."

Mrs. Mordaunt had no desire to meet Mr. Grab,
but she was a little afraid of Dan's impetuous temper.

"You will treat him respectfully, won't you, Dan.?"
she urged, as she turned to go into the adjoining
room.

Dan's eyes danced with fun.

"I'll treat him with all the respect he deserves,
mother," he answered.

Mrs. Mordaunt looked a little doubtful, for she un-
derstood Dan, but did not say more, for Mr. Grab was
already knocking at the door.

"Don't come out, whatever you hear, mother," said
Dan, in a low voice. " I'll come out all right, though
I shall tantalize him a little at first. "

The knock was repeated.

MORE THAN A MATCH.

"Come in !" Dan called out, in a loud, clear tone.

The door opened, and a thin, undersized man, with
bushy red hair and the look of a cross mastiff, entered
the room.

Before his entrance Dan had seated himself in the
plain wooden rocking-chair with his feet on a cricket.
He looked quite easy and unconcerned.

*'How are you, Grab.^**' he said, in a friendly
manner.

"You might call me Mr. Grab," returned the land-
lord, angrily.

"I've no objection, I'm sure, Mr. Grab," said Dan.
"How is your health.? You're looking very yellow.
Got the jaundice ?"

"I am perfectly well, and I am not yellow at
all. Do you mean to insult me.''" demanded Grab,
irritated.

"I wouldn't do that for a cent, Mr. Grab. I am
glad you feel well, though you ain't looking so. It's
very friendly of you to come round to see me and
mother."

"Where is your mother.?" snapped Mr. Grab.

"She is engaged just now, and won't have the
pleasure of seeing you."

"But I musf see her."

"Must! You are quite mistaken. You can't see
her. You can see me,"

50 MORE THAN A MATCH,

**I've seen more of you than I want to already,"
said Grab.

"That isn't talking like a friend, Mr. Grab," said
Dan, ''when I'm so glad to see you. Perhaps you
have come on business. "

"Of course I have come on business, and you
know very well what that business is, you young
monkey. "

"Thank you, Mr. Grab, you are very compliment-
ary. It isn't about the rent, is it.?"

"Of course it is !" snapped the landlord.

"Oh, dear, how could I have forgotten that it was
rent-day," said Dan, with well-feigned confusion.

Mr. Grab's brow grew dark. He concluded that he
wasn't going to collect the rent, and that always chafed
him.

"It's your business to know when rent-day comes,"
he said, bringing down his fist with such emphasis on
the table that he hurt his knuckles, to Dan's secret
delight.

"Please don't break the table. Grab," said Dan.

"Oh, blast the table!" said Grab, surveying his red
knuckles.

"We haven't got any blasting powder, and I don't
think it would be a very interesting experiment. It
might blow you up, for you are nearest to it "

MORE THAN A MATCH.

''Have done with this trifling, boy," said the land-
lord.

*' I am afraid you got out of the wrong end of the
bed this morning, Mr. Grab. You should control
yourself. "

*' Look here, boy," said the landlord, savagely, *'do
you know what I am tempted to do.?"

**No, what is it.?" asked Dan, indifferently.

**I am strongly tempted to chastise you for your
impudence."

Dan looked critically at the small, thin form, and
secretly decided that Mr. Grab would find it difficult
to carry out his threat.

*'0h, how you frighten me!" he said. "I don't
believe I shall sleep any to-night."

Mr. Grab made a motion to pound on the table
again, but he looked at his red knuckles and wisely
forbore.

**I can't waste any more time," he said. **You
must pay your rent, or turn out. I want six dollars."

"Won't it do, Mr. Grab, if we pay you next
week.?"

**No, it won't. The rent must be paid to-day, or
out you go. "

*'Why doesn't Dan pay him.?" thought Mrs. Mor-
daunt, uneasily. "Really, he ought not to tease the

1^2 MORE THAN A MATCH,

poor man so. He has such a bad temper, he might
hurt Dan."

** Mr. Gripp is owing mother for work. As soon as
he pays her, I will call round at your office and pay
you."

** It won't do," said Grab. "I won't let you stay
here another night, and I mean to have security for
my money, too. "

So saying, the landlord seized the bundle of vests
which lay on the table beside him.

This aroused Dan to action.

He sprang to his feet, his eyes flashing with anger.

''Put down that bundle, Mr. Grab !" he exclaimed.

''Then pay me my rent," said the landlord, recoil-
ing a little.

"Put down that bundle before you say another
word about rent. It isn't my mother's or mine. You
have no business with it. "

"What do you mean, boy, by your impudence?"
demanded the landlord, a little uneasily.

"I mean that if you take that bundle from the
room, I shall put you in charge of the nearest police-
man on a charge of stealing. "

"That is nonsense," said Grab; but he looked
nervous, and laid down the bundle.

"AH right, Grab," said Pan. "Now, as I don't

MORE THAN A MATCH. 53

want any more of your company, Fll pay the rent, if
you'll give me a receipt."

''Have you got the money?" asked Grab, aston-
ished.

'' Of course I have. I never told you I hadn't."

*' You made me think so."

"It isn't my business what you think. There, that
is settled, and now, Mr. Grab, I have the honor of
wishing you good-evening. I hope you won't hurt
your knuckles again. "

Mr. Grab left the room, inwardly wishing that he
could wring Dan's neck.

*'0h, Dan, how could you.?" asked his mother, re-
proachfully, as she re-entered the room.

"H^ deserves it all," said Dan. "Didn't he turn
out the poor Donovans on a cold day last winter.? I
have no pity for him. "
" He may turn us out."
*' Not as long as we pay the rent.''

MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED,

CHAPTER VII.

MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED.

Punctually at three o'clock Dan knocked at the
door of Mr. Grant's room in the Astor House.

That gentleman looked at his watch as he admitted
our hero.

•'You are punctual to the minute,** he said. "Your
watch keeps excellent time."

"I'll tell you why,"' answered Dan, smiling. "I
always keep it at Tiffany's. I don't dare to carry it for
fear it will get out of order."

"You ought to have a watch," said Mr. Grant.
"That will come in time."

"I hope so," said Dan. " Then I could be sure to
keep my business appointments. Now I have to de-
pend on the City Hall clock. I'd rather look at it
than carrv it round. "

"Well, Dan, do you think Mr. Gripp is prepared to
receive us ?"

"He'll be glad to see you. He'll think you are go-
ing to buy some clothes. I don't think he'll be very
happy to see me.'

MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED.

*'He must see us both, or neither. Has he any
good clothes?"

"Yes, sir — good enough for me. I don't think you
■p/ould like to patronize his establishment."

'*By the way, Dan, you have given me an. order for
money, and I have not handed you the equivalent."

*' You may not get the money, sir."

'*I will make the effort at any rate. By the way,
3an, that coat of yours is getting shabby."

**It is the best I have, sir. Boys in my business
don't have to dress much."

''That gives me an idea. Please hand me my hat,
and we will start. "

The two left the Astor House together. One or two
of Dan^s associates whom they encountered on the
way, were surprised to see him walking on terms of
apparent friendly companionship with a well-to-do
stranger, but decided that Dan was probably acting
as his guide.

They found Mr. Gripp standing as usual in the
door-way of his shop watching for customers. He
did not at first observe Dan, but his attention was
drawn to Mr. Grant.

"Walk in, sir," he said, obsequiously. "You will
find what you want here. Styles fashionable, and as
for prices — we defy competition. "

Alexander Grant paused, and looked critically about

56 MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED.

him. He understood very well the sort of establish-
ment he was about to enter, and would not have
thought of doing so but in Dan's interests.

He stepped over the threshold, and Dan was about
to follow, when the eagle eye of Mr. Gripp recognized
our hero.

''Clear out, you young rascal!" he exclaimed.
"Don't you come round here any more."

Dan did not answer, for he knew Mr. Grant would
io so for him.

Mr. Grant turned back, and said, quietly :

"To whom are you speaking, sir.?"

''I beg your pardon, sir — it's that boy."

**Then, sir, you will oblige me by stopping at
pnce. That boy is in my company and under my
protection. "

Nathan Gripp stared as if transfixed.

*'Do you know him, sir.?" he asked.

''Yes, sir."

"You are mistaken in him, sir. He's an artful
^oung rascal. He was here yesterday, and acted out-
rageously. He assaulted my clerk and insulted me."

"I have nothing to do with that. He is in my
company, and if I enter the store he will."

"Oh, of course, if he's with you he can come in.
Samuel, show the gentleman what he wants. "

Dan smiled, and nothing but a sense of his own in-

MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED. 57

terest prevented Mr. Gripp from objecting to his en-
trance.

''What will I show you, sir.?" asked the callow
young man named Samuel, glaring at Dan in vivid
remembrance of the blow which had doubled him
up.

' ' Have you any coats and vests that will fit this
young gentleman .?"

''Young gentleman !" repeated Samuel, mechanic-
ally, glancing at Dan in silent hatred.

"That means me, Samuel," said Dan, mischievous-
ly. "Samuel is an old friend of mine, Mr. Grant."

" I think we can fit him," said Samuel, by no means
relishing the task of waiting upon his young opponent.
"Take off your coat, young feller."

"Don't be too familiar, Samuel. You may call me
Mr. Mordaunt," said Dan,

"I'll be if I do," muttered the young man.

Dan took off his coat, and tried on the one submit-
ted to his inspection. He afterward tried on the vest,
and they proved to be a good fit.

"Do they suit you, Dan.?" asked Mr. Grant.

"Yes, sir, they fit as well as if they had been made
for me."

"What is the price of these articles, young man?"
atrfked Mr. Grant.

"Twelve dollars," answered Samuel.

MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED.

" He'll take eight," suggested Dan, in a low voice.

Mr. Grant knew well enough the ways of Chatham
street merchants to appreciate the suggestion.

''That is too high," he said, quietly.

Samuel, who was trained to read customers, after a
glance at Mr. Grant's face, prepared to reduce the
price.

**We might say eleven," he said, meditatively
"Shall I put them up?"

''Not at that price."

"You don't want us to give 'em away.?" said Samu-
el, in the tone of one whose reasonable demands had
been objected to.

"There is no fear of that, I apprehend," returned
Mr. Grant, dryly.

"I've no objection, I'm sure," remarked Dan, on
his own account.

"I'd make a few remarks to you, young feller, if
you were alone," he read in the eyes of the indignant
salesman, and Dan enjoyed the restraint which he
knew Samuel was putting upon himself

"You are still asking too much," said the cus-
tomer.

"What'll you give, sir?" asked Samuel, diplomatic-
ally.

"Eight dollars,".

MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED, jg

"Eight dollars! Why the cloth cost more than
that !" protested Samuel.

**The work didn't cost you much, I presume.*'

*'We pay the highest prices for work in this estab-
lishment, sir," said Samuel, hastily.

He forgot that Dan knew better.

**So they do, Mr. Grant," said Dan. "They pay
twenty cents apiece for making vests."

"We pay more than that to our best hands," said
Sam.uel.

"You told me you never paid more," retorted Dan.

Mr. Grant interrupted this discussion.

"Young man," said he, "I will give you eight dol-
lars for the clothes."

"Say nine, sir."

"Not a cent more."

As the regular price was eight dollars — when they
couldn't get any more — Samuel felt authorized to con-
clude the bargain without consulting Mr. Gripp.

"Shall I do up the clothes ?" he asked.

"No," said Dan, "I'll wear 'em. You may put up
my old ones."

Samuel felt it derogatory to his dignity to obey the
orders of our hero, but there was no alternative.

The bundle was placed in Dan's hands.

"Now write me a receipt for the price," said Mr.
Grant

6o AfR, GRIPP /.9 WORSTED.

This was done.

Mr. Grant counted out six dollars and eighty cents.

"I have an order upon you for the balance," he
said.

''I don't understand," ejaculated Samuel.

"Your principal owes my young friend, or his
mother, one dollar and twenty cents for work. This
you will receive as part of the price. "

"I must see Mr. Gripp," said Samuel.

Mr. Gripp came forward frowning.

** We can't take the order, sir," he said. **The boy's
money is not yet due."

"Isn't the work done and delivered?"

"Yes, sir ; but it is our rule not to pay till a whole
dozen is delivered."

"Then it is a rule which you must break," said Mr,
Grant, firmly.

'-'We can't."

"Then I refuse to take the suit."

Nathan Gripp did not like to lose the sale on the
one hand, or abdicate his position on the other.

"Tell your mother," he said to Dan, "that when
she has finished another half-dozen vests I will pay her
the whole. "

He reflected that the stranger would be gone, and
Dan would be in his power.

MR. GRIFF IS WORSTED. 6 1

"Thank you," said Dan, ''but mother's agreed to
work for Jackson. He pays better. "

* * Then you'll have to wait for your pay, " said Mr.
Gripp, sharply.

** Don't you care to sell this suit ?" asked Mr. Grant,
quickly.

"Yes, sir, but under the circumstances we must ask
all cash."

"You won't get it, sir."

"Then I don't think we care to sell," said Gripp,
allowing his anger to overcome his interest.

"Very good. I think, Dan, we can find quite as
good a bargain at Jackson's. Mr. Gripp, do I under-
stand that you decline to pay this bill.?"

* ' I will pay when the other half-dozen vests are
made," said Gripp, stubbornly.

"I have nothing to do with that. The bill is mine,
and it is with me you have to deal. The boy has noth-
ing to do with it. "

"Is that so.?" asked Gripp, in surprise.

"It is. You may take your choice. Settle the bill
now, or I shall immediately put it in a lawyer's hands,
who will know how to compel you to pay it. "

A determined will carries the day.

"Take this gentleman's money, Samuel," said
Gripp, in a tone of annoyance. .

There was no further trouble. Dan walked out of

62 MR. GRIPP IS WORSTED.

the store better dressed than he had been since the
days of his prosperity.

* * How can I thank you, Mr. Grant ?" he said, grate-
fully.

'* By continuing to care for your mother, my lad.
You are lucky to have a mother living. Mine is dead,
God bless her ! Now, my lad, what do you think of
my success in collecting bills ?"

**You were too many for old Gripp, sir. He won't
sleep to-night."

"He doesn't deserve to, for he grows rich by de-
frauding the poor who work for him. "

Opposite the City Hall Park Dan and his friend
separated.

**I shall not see you again, my boy," said Mr.
Grant, *'for I take the evening train. If you ever
come to St. Louis, find me out."

'a will, sir."

** That's a good man," said Dan, as he wended his
way homeward. "If there were more such, it would
be good for poor people like mother and me. If I
ever get rich, I mean to help along those that need it."

MIKE RAFFERTY'S TRICK,

CHAPTER VIII.

MIKE RAFFERTYS TRICK.

Dan carefully husbanded the money which Mr.
Grant had lent him, and the result was that for two
months he was comparatively easy in his circum-
stances. His mother earned five cents more daily,
on account of the higher price she received for work,
and though this was a trifle, it was by no means to
be despised where the family income was so small as
in the case of the Mordaunts.

Still Dan was not satisfied.

*' Mother," said he, "I suppose I ought to be con-
tented with earning enough to pay our expenses, but
I should like to be saving something."

**Yes, Dan, it would be pleasant. But we ought
to be thankful for what we are now receiving."

"But, mother, suppose I should fall sick? What
should we do then ?"

Mrs. Mordaunt shuddered.

"Don't mention such a thing, Dan," she said.
"The very idea terrifies me."

"But it might happen, for all that"

$4 MIKE RAFFERTY'S TRICK.

' ' Don't you feel well, Dan ? Is anything the matter
with you ?" asked Mrs. Mordaunt, anxiously.

''Don't be frightened, mother," answered Dan,
laughing. ''I'm as strong as a horse, and can eat
almost as much. Still, you know, we would feel
safer to have a little money in the savings-bank. "

"There isn't much chance of that, Dan, unless we
earn more than we do now."

''You are right there. Well, I suppose there is no
use thinking of it. By the way, mother, you've got
enough money on hand to pay the rent to-morrow,
haven't you.?"

"Yes, Dan, and a dollar over."

"That's good."

The door of the room was partly open, and the last
part of the conversation was heard by Mike Raiferty,
the son of the tenant who occupied the room just
over the Mordaunts. He was a ne'er-do-well, who
had passed more than one term of imprisonment at
Blackwell's Island. His mother was an honest, hard-
working washerwoman, who toiled early and late to
support herself and her three children. Mike might
have given her such assistance that she could have
lived quite comfortably, for her own earnings were by
no means inconsiderable. Her wash-tub paid her
much more than Mrs. Mordaunt's needle could pos-
sibly wm, and she averaged a dollar a day where her

MIKE RAFFERTY'S TRICK.

more refined neighbor made but twenty-five cents.
But Mike, instead of helping, was an additional bur-
den. He got his meals regularly at home, but con-
tributed scarcely a dollar a month to the common
expenses. He was a selfish rowdy, who was likely to
belong permanently to the shiftless and dangerous
classes of society.

Mike had from time to time made approaches to
intimacy with Dan, w-ho was nearly two years younger,
but Dan despised him for his selfishly burdening his
mother with his support, and didn't encourage him.
Naturally, Mike hated Dan, and pronounced him
''stuck up" and proud, though our hero associated
familiarly with more than one boy ranking no higher
in the social scale than Mike Rafi"erty.

Only the day before, Mike, finding himself out of
funds, encountering Dan on the stairs, asked for^.the
loan of a quarter.

'*I have no money to spare," answered Dan.

"You've got money, Dan; I saw you take out
some a minute ago. "

"Yes, I've got the money, but I ^^on't lend it."

"You're a mane skinflint," said Mike, provoked.

"Why am L?"

"Because you've got the money, and you won't
lend it."

* ' What do you want to do with it V

66 MIKE RAFFERTY'S TRICK.

''I want to go to the Old Bowery to-night, if you
must know."

*'If you wanted it for your mother I might have
lent it to you, though I need all I can earn for my
own mother."

"It's for my mother I want it, thin," said Mike.
* ' I guess I won't go to the theater to-night. "

* ' That's too thin. Your mother would never see
the color of it."

''Won't you lend me, thin.?"

''No, I can't. If you want money, why don't you
earn it, as I do.?"

"I ain't lucky."

*'It isn't luck. If you go to work and sell papers
or black boots, you will be able to help your mother
and pay your way to the theater yourself. "

"Kape your advice to yourself," said Mike, sul-
lenly. "I don't want it."

*' You'd rather have my money," said Dan, good-
humoredly.

*'' I'll never see that. You're too mane."

"All right. I'll be ;;2a«^, then."

"I'd like to put a head on you," muttered Mike.

"I've got one already. I don't need another,"
said Dan.

"Oh, you think you're mighty smart wid your
jokes," said Mike,

MIKE RAFFERTY'S TRICK.

Dan smiled and walked oif, leaving Mike more his
enemy than ever.

This was the boy who overheard Mrs. Mordaunt say
that she had m-ore than the rent already saved up.
Mike's cupidity was excited. He knew that it must
amount to several dollars, and this he felt would keep
him in cigarettes and pay for evenings at the theater
for several days.

" I wish I had it," he said to himself. '*I wonder
where the ould woman kapes it."

The more Mike thought of it the more he coveted
this money, and he set to work contriving means to
get possession of it.

Finally he arranged upon a plan.

About three o clock in the afternoon he knocked at
Mrs. Mordaunt's door. She answered the knock in
person.

"Mike Rafferty!" she said, in surprise. "Won't
you come in?"

"Oh, no; I can't. It's bad news I bring you
about Dan."

"What is it.? Tell me quick, in Heaven's name!"
she exclaimed, her heart giving a great bound.

"He's been run over, ma'am, by a hoss, in front
of the Astor House, and they took him into the
drug store at the corner He wants yoxi tc ^o ri^ht
over,"

68 MTKE RAFFERTY'S TRICK.

"Is he — badly hurt?" asked the agonized mother.

*'I guess he's broke his leg,*' said Mike.

In two minutes Mrs. Mordaunt, trembling with ap-
prehension, her faltering limbs almost refusing to bear
her weight, was on her way to the Astor House.

As Mike had calculated, she did not stop to lock
the door.

The young scape-grace entered the deserted room,
rummaged about till he found the scanty hoard re-
served for the landlord, and then went off whistling.

'•'Now I'll have a bully time," he said to himself.
"Didn't I fool the ould woman good ?"

MIKE'S THEFT IS DISCOVERED.

CHAPTER IX.

mike's theft is discovered.

Dan was standing in front of the Astor House, talk-
ing to a boy acquaintance, when his mother tottered
up to him in a state of great nervous agitation,

**Why, mother, what's the matter?" asked Dan, in
surprise. ** What brings you out this afternoon ?"

" Oh, Dan !" she gasped, ''are you hurt?"

Dan opened his eyes in wonder. It occurred to
him that his mother must have lost her mind.

*•' Hurt !" he repeated.

*'Yes; they told me you~were run over, and had
your leg broken. "

*' My leg broken 1 Who told you so?"

**Mike Rafferty."

**Then I wish I had him here," said Dan, indig-
nantly ; I'd let him know whether my leg is broken or
not. You bet I would !"

" Haven't you been run over, then?"

**Not that I know of, and I guess it couldn't be
done without my knowing it."

"I am so glad, so relieved!" sighed Mrs. Mor-

70 MIKE'S THEFT IS DISCOVERED.

daunt. **I don't know how I got here, I was so agu
tated."

"When did Mike Rafferty tell you this cock-and-
bull story, mother?" asked Dan.

"Only a few minutes ago. He said you had been
taken into a drug store, and wanted me to come right
over. "

"It's a mean trick he played on you, mother,"
said Dan, indignantly. "I don't see what made him
doit."

"Nor I," said Mrs. Mordaunt. "He must have
meant it as a joke."

"A pretty poor joke. I'll get even with him for
that."

"I don't mind it now, Dan, since I have you safe.
I am ready to forgive him. He didn't know how
much he was distressing me."

* * Then he ought to have known. You may forgive
him if you want to ; I sha'n't. "

"I will go home now, Dan. I feel a good deal
happier than I did when I was hurrying over here."

"I will go with you, mother. I have sold my pa-
pers, and sha'n't work any more this afternoon.
Where did you leave Mike.? I hope I can come
across him soon."

" I left him at the door of our room."

MIKE'S THEFT IS DISCOVERED.

*'Did you lock the door when you came away,
mother ?" asked Dan.

*'No; I believe not."

"Then let us go home at once. Some one might
get in."

*' There isn't much to take, Dan," said Mrs. Mor-
daunt, with a faint smile.

''There is our rent money, mother,"

''I didn't think of that."

''We shall be in a pretty pickle if that is lost."

"You don't think Mike would take it do you,
Dan.?"

"I think he would if he knew where to find it."

" I wish I had brought it with me," said Mrs. Mor-
daunt, in a tone of anxiety.

"Don't fret, mother; I guess it's all right."

"Perhaps you had better go home at once without
waiting for me, Dan. You can go quicker."

"All right; I'll do it. Where is the money?"

"In my pocket-book, in the drawer of the work-
table."

' ' Are the drawers locked T

"No."

"Then hereafter you'd better lock them. Well, I'll
be off, and will meet vou at the room."

Dan was not long in reaching his humble home.
The m-ore he thought of it, the more he distrusted

72 MIKE'S THEFT IS DISCOVERED.

Mike, and feared that he might have had a sinister de-
sign in the deception he had practiced upon his
mother. To lose the rent money would be a serious
matter. Mr. Grab hated him, he knew full well, and
would show no mercy, while in the short time remain-
ing it would be quite impossible to make up the neces-
sary sum.

Dan sprang up the stairs, several at a bound, and
made his way at once to the little work-table. He
pulled the drawer open without ceremony, and in
feverish haste rummaged about until, to his great joy,
he found the pocket-book.

His heart gave a joyous bound.

"It's all right, after all," he said. **Mike isn't so
bad as I thought him."

He opened the pocket-book, and his countenance
fell. There was a twenty-five cent scrip in one of the
compartments, and that was all.

"He's stolen the money, after all," he said, his
heart sinking. " What are we going to do now?"

He waited till his mother reached home. She
looked inquiringly at him. One glance told her what
had happened.

"Is it gone, Dan.?" she gasped.

"That is all that is left," answered Dan, holding up
the scrip.

"Mike could not be wicked enough to take it."

AttlCE'S THEPT IS DISCOVERED,

"Couldn't he, though? You don't know him as I
do, mother. He's a mean thief, and he sent you off
to have a clear field. I wish you had locked the
door."

"I couldn't think of that, or anything else, Dan,
when I thought you were hurt."

"That's why he told you."

* ' What can we do, Dan ? Mr. Grab will be angry
when he finds we can't pay him."

" I will try to find Mike; and if I do, I will get the
money if I can. That's the first thing."

Dan went up stairs at once, and knocked at Mrs.
RafFerty's door.

She came to the door, her arms dripping with suds,
for she had been washing.

"Is it you, Dan.?" she said. "And how is your
mother the day.?"

"Is Mike in.?" asked Dan, abruptly, too impatient
to answer the question.

' ' No ; he went out quarter of an hour ago. "

"Did he tell you where he was going, Mrs. Raf-
ferty?"

"Yes, he did. He said he was going over to
Brooklyn to see if he could get a job, shure. Did
you want him .?"

"Yes, I did, Mrs. RafFerty. I'm sorry to tell you
that Mike has played a bad trick on my mother. "

74 MIKE'S THEFT IS DISCOVERED.

"Oh, whirra, whirra, what a bye he is!" wailed

Mrs. Rafferty. "He's always up to something bad.

Sorra bit of worruk he does, and I at the wash-tub all

day long."

"He's a bad son to you, Mrs. Rafferty."

"So he is, Dan, dear. I wish he was like you.

And what kind of trick has he played on your good

mother .?"

" He told her that I had been run over and broken
my leg. Of course she went out to find me, thinking
it was all true, and while she was away he took the
money from her pocket-book. "

Some mothers would have questioned this state-
ment, but Mrs. Rafferty knew to her cost that Mike
was capable of stealing, having been implicated in
thefts on several occasions.

"Was it much, Dan.?" she asked.

" Six or seven dollars. I can't say just how much."
"Oh, what a bad bye! I don't know what to
do wid him, shure. "

"It was the money we were to pay our rent with
to-morrow," continued Dan. "It is a very serious
matter. "

" I wish I could make it up to you, Dan, dear. It's
a shame it is."

* ' You are an honest woman, Mrs. Rafferty, but you

MIKE'S THE FT IS DISCOVERED. 75

ought not to make it up. I wish I could find Mike.
Do you think he has really gone to Brooklyn."

"Shure, I don't know. He said so."

**He might have done it as a blind, just to put me
on the wrong scent. "

**So he might, shure."

** Well, Mrs. Rafferty, I can't stop any longer. I'll
try to find him."

He went down stairs and told his mother what
he had discovered or failed to discover.

** Don't wait supper for me, mother," he said. ''I'm
going in search of Mike."

''You won't fight with him, Dan.?" said Mrs. Mor-
daunt, anxiously.

"I can't promise, mother. I will only agree to be
prudent I am not going to submit to the loss with-
out trying to get the money back, you rijay be sure of
that."

So Dan went down stairs, considerably perplexed in
mind. Mike was sure to keep out of the way for
a time at least, anticipating that Dan would be upon
his track. While our hero was searching for him, he
would have plenty of opportunities of spending the
money of which he had obtained unlawful possession.
To punish him without regaining the contents of the
lost pocket-book would be an empty triumph. In the

76 MIKE'S THEFT IS DISCOVERED.

Street below Dan espied Terence Quinn, an acquaint-
ance of Mike.

"How are you, Terence?" he said. ''Have you
seen anything of Mike ?"

' ' I saw him only a few minutes ago. "

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

" I want to see him on business."

"I'll teH you where he'll be this evening."

"Where?"

' ' He's going to the Old Bowery, and I'm goin' wid
him."

"Does he treat.?"

"Yes."

"Where did he get the money?"

"He didn't tell me," said Terence.

" He's taken the rent money. I'm sure of it now,"
said Dan to himself. "I wish I knew where to find
him."

DAN AS A DETECTIVE,

CHAPTER X.

DAN AS A DETECTIVE.

Dan quickly decided that if Mike had been going
to Brooklyn, he would not have announced it under
the circumstances.

**He meant to send me there on a wild-goose
chase," he reflected. '*I am not quite so green as
he takes me to be."

Dan could not decide as easily where Mike had
gone. Hood says in his poem of ' * The Lost Heir, "'

" A boy as is lost in London streets is like a needle in a bundle
of hay."

A hunt for a boy in the streets of New York is
about equally hopeless. But Dan did not despair.

^'I'll just stroll round a little," he said to himself
*'Mayberil find him."

Dan bent his steps toward the Courtlandt-street
Ferry.

* * Perhaps Mike has gone to Jersey City, " he said to
himself. ** Anyway, LU go over there. "

It was not an expensive journey. Six cents would
defray Dan's expenses both ways, and he was willing

DAN AS A DETECTIVE.

to incur this expense. He meant to look about him,
as something might turn up by which he could turn
an honest penny.

Something did turn up.

Near him in the cabin of the ferry-boat sat a gentle-
man of middle age, who seemed overloaded with bag-
gage. He had two heavy carpet-bags, a satchel, and
a bundle, at which he looked from time to time with
a nervous and uncomfortable glance. When the boat
touched shore he tried to gather his various pieces of
luggage, but with indifferent success. Noticing his
look of perplexity, Dan approached him, and said,
respectfully :

''Can't I assist you, sir.?"

"I wish you would, my boy," said the gentleman,
relieved.

"All right, sir. Til take one of the carpet-bags
and the satchel, if you like."

''Thank you; that will do nicely."

So the two left the boat together.

"Where are you going, sir?" asked Dan.

"Do you know the wharf of the Cunard steamers?"
asked the gentleman.

"Yes, sir."

"Is it far off.?"

"Not more than five or six minutes' walk," an-
swered Dan.

DAN AS A DETECTIVE, j^

' ' Can you help me as far as that with my luggage ?"

"Yes, sir."

*'I will ma.ke it worth your while, and you will be
doing me a great favor besides. 1 was brought down
to the ferry, but the rascally hackman demanded five
dollars more to carry me across and land me at the
Cunard pier. He thought I would have to submit to
this imposition, but I was so indignant that I tried to
handle all my luggage myself. I don't know how I
should have managed without you. "

"I won't charge you so much, sir," said Dan,
smiling.

"It isn't for the money I cared so much as for the
imposition. I would rather pay you ten dollars than
the hackman five."

"Be careful, sir," said Dan, smiling, "or I may
take advantage of your liberal offer."

The gentleman smiled in turn.

"You don't look like a boy that would take advan-
tage of a traveler. "

"You can't judge from appearances, sir. I have
been robbed of six dollars to-day, and I might try to
make it up that way. "

" You have been robbed ! How.?"

Dan briefly related the circumstances.

"Was it all the money your mother had ?"

"Yes, sir."

8o DAN AS A DETECTIVE.

* * How did you happen to be coming across the
ferry?"

"I thought Mike might be here somewhere."

By this time they were in sight of the Canard wharf.

''Were you ever on a Cunard steamer?" asked the
gentleman.

''No, sir."

"Help me on board with my luggage, and I will
show you about. "

"I thought the steamers generally left in the morn-
ing," said Dan.

"So they do; but to-day the tide did not serve till
later."

Dan helped Mr. Stevens down below with his lug-
gage, and assisted him in storing them in his state-
room. He surveyed with interest the cabin, the deck,
the dining-saloon, and the various arrangements.

"Well," said the gentleman, smiling, "how do you
like it.?"

"First-rate, sir."

"Do you think you would like to be going with
me.?"

"Yes, sir, but for my mother."

"Of course, it won't do to desert her; otherwise I
might be tempted to make you an offer. I am sure
you would be very useful to me."

DAN AS A DETECTIVE. 8 1

''I should like it Very much, if mother did not
need me."

Dan went up stairs with Mr. Stevens, and re-
mained till visitors were warned that it was time to
go ashore.

''I must go, sir, *' he said.

Mr. Stevens drew a five-dollar bill from his vest
pocket and handed it to Dan.

''I haven't any change, sir," said Dan.

''None is required," said the gentleman, smiling.

''Do you really mean to give me five dollars, sir?"

"That is what the hackman wanted to charge me."

" But it was too much."

"It was too much for him; it is not too much for
you, if I am willing to give it to you."

"You are ver)' kind, sir," said Dan, almost doubt-
ing the reality of his good fortune.

"It will prove that I spoke truly when I said I
didn't care for the amount of money, only for the
imposition. I am really very glad to give it to you.
Good-by, my boy. "

He off'ered his hand. Dan shook it heartily, and,
wishing him a pleasant voyage, descended the gang-
plank.

"That is almost as much as Mike robbed me of,"
he said to himself "How lucky I came over to
Jersey City ! Now, if I could only get back part of

82 DAN AS A DETECTIVE.

the money Mike robbed me of, I should be the better
off for his mean trick."

Dan did not immediately return to New York. He
had been so fortunate that he decided to spend the
rest of the afternoon as he liked.

He walked on for ten minutes, Mike being tem-
porarily out of his mind, when his attention was sud-
denly drawn to him. Just in front of him he saw
Mike himself swag.2:ering along, with a ten-cent cigar
in his mouth, and both hands thrust deep in his
trousers pockets. He was strolling along in fancied
security, not dreaming of the near presence of the boy
whom he had so meanly robbed.

Dan's eyes sparkled when he recognized his enemy,
and hastening his pace, he put his hand on Mike's
shoulder.

Mike turned quickly, and his countenance changed
when he saw Dan.

"Has he found it out?" suggested his guilty con-
science. ' ' Anyway, he can't prove anything. I'll
bluff him off."

"Hallo, Dan!" he said, in affected cordiality.
•''What brings you over here.?"

"What brings j'c'z^ over here, Mike.?" asked Dan,
significantly.

"I'm looking for a job," said Mike.

"You look like it," retorted Dan, "with both

DAN AS A DETECTIVE. 83

hands in your pockets and a cigar in your mouth !
Times seem to be good with you. How much did
that cigar cost ?"

*'I don't know," answered Mike, with unblushing
falsehood. ''A man gave it to me for holdin' his
boss."

Mike was never at a loss for a plausible lie.

" I thought you bought it/'

"I haven't got any money."

*' Did they let you over they ferry free, then?"

' ' Oh, I had money enough for that. "

*' I guess you have got more."
*'*No, I haven't. Ten cents was all I had."

"Then how are you going to take Terence Quinn
to the theater to-night?" asked Dan.

Even Mike's brazen effrontery was hardly prepared
to meet this unexpected question.

"What do you mane?" he stammered.

"Terence told me you had invited him."

"Then he lies!" said Mike, his self-assurance re-
turning. " He invited me."

"Look here, Mike Rafferty," said Dan, out of pa-
patience ; * * that won't go down ! Terence told the
truth. I know where you got the money you were
going to treat him with. "

"Where, then?"

"From my mother's pocket-book,"

84 DAN AS A DETECTIVE.

*'It's a lie !" blustered Mike.

•'It's the truth, and if you don't hand over what's
ieft without making any more trouble, I'll have you
arrested. ''

'* You can't. We're in Jersey "

''I shall have you arrested as soon as you get
home."

"I didn't take the money," said Mike, sullenly.

"You did, and you know it," said Dan, firmly.
"Give me what you have left, and Til make no
trouble about it. If you don't, you're booked for
another term at the island."

Mike tried to save his ill-gotten gains, but Dan was
persistent, and finally extracted from him -four dollars
and a half The rest Mike pretended he had spent.
He was sly enough, however, to have saved enough to
take him to the Old Bower}'.

On the whole, Dan was satisfied, considering the five
dollars he had received on the Cunard steamer, but he
could not forbear giving Mike a farewell shot.

"How did it happen, Mike, that you took the
Jersey Ferry to Brooklyn.?"

Mike did not deign a reply.

"That is my first appearance as a detective," thought
Dan, ' ' It seems to pay. "

DAN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 8t;

CHAPTER XI.

DAN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

It was only five o'clock when Dan, returning from
Jersey City, found himself again in front of the Astor
House.

"Shall I buy any evening papers?" Dan asked him-
self. "No, I won't. I've made enough to satisfy me
for one day."

Dan stood at the corner of Vesey street, glancing at
the hurrying crowds.

He rather enjoyed his temporary freedom from busi-
ness cares.

He had made a good day's work, the morrow's rent
was provided for, and he felt like a gentleman of
leisure.

All at once his attention was drawn to a low sob.
It proceeded from a little flower-girl of ten years, who
usually stood near the hotel.

"What's the matter, Fanny.?" asked Dan, calling
her by her name, for the little flower-girl was one of
his acquaintances. "Haven't you sold as many bou-
quets as usual ?"

86 J^AN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

*' V^es," said Fanny, pausing in her sobs, ''I've sold
more. "

*'Then what's the matter? Has any one been teas-
ing you ?"

* ' No, but a young man passed a bad half-dollar on
me."

"Let me see it."

Dan inspected the piece. He did not need to ring
it, for it was dull in appearance and unmistakably
bad.

''When did you take it.?"

*'Just now. A young man came up and bought a
five-cent bouquet, and gave me this to change."

*' Didn't you see that it was bad ?"

*' I didn't look at it till afterward. Then it was too
late."

**Soyou gave him forty-five cents in good money,
Fanny ?"

** Yes," said the little girl, again beginning to sob.

" How many bouquets had you sold .?"

"Seven."

"Then you have less money than when you be-
gan?"

"Yes, Dan."

"Do you think the fellow knew the piece was
bad?"

"Yes, for he hurried away."

DAN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE. gf

*' Which way did he go?"

'*Down Broadway."

''Maybe he was going to Jersey City."

"No, I saw him turn down Fulton street."

''Then he was going to Brooklyn. How did he
look.?"

*'He was short and had red hair."

"How was he dressed.?"

"He had on a gray suit."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"About five minutes."

"Give me the bad piece, and I'll go after him. Stay
here till I come back."

Dan seized the money, and proceeded toward Ful-
ton Ferry at a half run.

"I hope he won't have taken the boat," he said to
himself. "If he has I shall lose him."

Dan nearly overthrew an apple woman's stand not
far from the ferry, but did not stop to apologize. He
ran into a fat gentleman who looked daggers at him,
but kept on.

Breathless he paid his ferriage, and just succeeded in
catching a boat as it was leaving the New York pier.

Thus far he had not seen the young man of whom
he was in search.

"He may be on board the boat. I'll go forward,"
said Dan to himself.

88 DAN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

He walked through the ladies' cabin, and stepped
out on the forward deck. The boat was crowded, for
it was at the time when men who live in Brooklyn,
but are employed in New York, are returning to their
homes.

Dan looked about him for a time without success,
but all at once his eyes lighted up. Just across the
deck, near the door of the gentlemen's cabin, stood a
young man with red hair, holding a small bouquet in
his hand. His face was freckled, his eyes small, and
he looked capable of meanness.

Of course appearances are often deceptive, but not
unfrequently a man's character can be read upon his
face.

''That's the fellow that cheated poor Fanny, I'll
beta hat," Dan decided within himself. "He looks
like it."

He immediately crossed to the other side of the
deck.

The red-headed young man was talking to another
young man of about the same age.

"Where did you get that bouquet, Sanderson?"
asked the latter.

"Bought it of a little girl in front of the Astor
House," answered Sanderson.

"That settles it," thought Dan.

He waited to hear what would come next.

DAN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

"I suppose it is meant for some young lady," sug-
gested the other.

"Maybe it is,'' answered Sanderson, with a grin.

Dan thought it was about time to come to business.

He touched the red-haired young man on the arm.

Sanderson looked round.

"Well, boy, what is it?" he asked.

"You bought that bouquet of a girl near the Astor
House," said Dan.

"What if I did.?" asked Sanderson, uneasily, for he
had a suspicion of what was coming.

"You gave her a bogus half-dollar in payment,"
continued Dan.

"Do you mean to insult me?" blustered Sanderson.
"Be off with you."

"I am sorry I cannot accommodate you," said
Dan, "but I want you to give me a good piece for
this first. "

"I never saw that half-dollar before," said Sander-
son. "I gave her good money."

" Perhaps you can prove that before the court," said
Dan.

"What do you mean?" demanded Sanderson, un-
easily.

"I mean that you have passed counterfeit money,
and unless you give me a good piece for it I will give

po DAK HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

you in charge as soon as we reach the pier," said Dan,
firmly.

Sanderson looked about him, and saw that the boy's
charge was believed. Soon his friend looked disgust-
ed. Dan followed up his attack.

"Fanny is a poor girl," he said. *'I found her cry-
ing over her loss, for it was more than all the money
she had taken to-day.''

"Are you her friend.?" asked Sanderson, sneering.

"Ye?, I am," said Dan, stoutly.

"This is a put-up job between you two," said San-
derson.

"Gentlemen," said Dan, turning and appealing to
the passengers near him, "this young man has passed
a bad fifty-cent piece on a poor flower-girl. Shall he
make it good .?"

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed half a dozen, and several
cried "shame!" with looks of scorn and disgust di-
rected toward the young man with red hair.

"I don't believe a word of it," he ejaculated, in a
rage. " I gave the girl a quarter."

"Too thin !" said several.

"But I'll give you the money to get rid of you,"
and he threw a half-dollar at Dan with a look very far
from amiable.

"Thank you, sir; here's your money," said Dan.

Though Sanderson had disclaimed all knowledge of

DAN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 91

the bogus half-dollar, he took it and put it carefully in
his pocket.

"Keep it to pay your washerwoman with," said a
jeering voice.

It was a young fellow in the garb of a workman
who spoke.

The boat touched the pier, and Sanderson was only
too glad to hurry away from the unfriendly crowd.

"You're a smart boy!" cried a keen-looking busi-
nessman, addressing Dan. "How did you discover
that this fellow was the one that passed the coin. "

"Fanny described him to me."

*'Then you hadn't seen him before ?"

"No, sir."

"What are you doing for a living ?"

"Selling papers, sir."

"You are fit for something better. Come and see
me to-morrow."

He placed in Dan's hands a card bearing the firm's
name

Barton & Rogers,
Commission Merchants,

No. — Pearl street.

"My name is Rogers," he continued. "Inquire
for me."

"Thank you, sir."

Dan was so pleased at having recovered Fanny's

DAN HAS ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

money that he gave little thought to this last incident,
though it was destined to exert an important influence
on his fortunes. He took the same boat back to New
York, and hurried to the Astor House.

Little Fanny, the flower-girl, with a sad look upon
her face, was still standing in her wonted place.

"I've got your money back, Fanny," said Dan.

"Oh, have you.?" exclaimed Fanny, joyfully.

"Yes; I made the fellow give it up."

"Oh, how kind you are, Dan !"

There was a listener to what passed between the two
children. A tall lady, standing at the corner of the
street, regarded them attentively. She was evidently
revolving some plan in her head. As Dan was about
turning away, she placed her hand on his arm.

"Young man," she said, "I want to speak to you."

"All right, ma'am," said Dan, surprised.

A MYSTERIOUS I ADV. 93

CHAPTER XII.

A MYSTERIOUS LADY.

Dan thought it probable that the lady who accosted
him might wish to send him on an errand, and his
surprise vanished. She was tall, slender, and grave in
appearance. She was probably not over thirty-five.
Her first words renewed Dan's surprise.

*' Have you a mother living.?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"A father.?"

"No, ma'am,"

* ' Are you an only child, or have you brothers and
sisters .?"

"There is only one of me," answered Dan, humor-
ously.

" I suppose you are poor.?"

"If I were not, I would not sell papers for a
living. "

"Probably you live in a poor place.?"

"Yes," answered Dan, beginning to be tired of sat-
isfying what might be only curiosity on the part of the
lady. She noticed at once the change in his manner.

g^ A MYSTERIOUS LADY.

"I am not making these inquiries out of curiosity,"
she said, quickly. " I have an object in what I ask."

This naturally surprised Dan the more.

"All right, ma'am," he said; "I am ready to an-
swer. "

''Are you at leisure for an hour or two.?" asked the
lady.

Dan hesitated.

' ' I suppose mother will be worried if I don't come
home to supper," he said, hesitating.

'Can't you send her a message not to expect you.?
Does this little girl know where you live .?"

"Yes," answered Fanny, readily.

To her the lady turned.

"Little girl," she said, "go at once and tell this
boy's mother that he will not be home till nine
o'clock. Say he is called away by business."

"Yes, ma'am."

* ' This will pay you for your trouble. "

The little girl's eyes sparkled with joy as the lady
placed fifty cents in her hand.

"Thank you. How glad mother will be.?" she
said.

As for Dan, he was puzzled to conjecture what the
lady could want of him. What would justify such a
handsome compensation to Fanny merely to explain
his absence to hi. mother?

A MYSTERIOUS LADY. 95

**Now,'"' said the lady, *'if you will hail the next
stage we will go up town."

They had not long to wait. Soon they were rattling
over the pavements through thronged Broadway. It
was two years since Dan had been in a Broadway
stage. He could not afford to pay ten cents for a ride,
but when it was absolutely necessary rode in a horse-
car for half price.

Dan looked about him to see if he knew any one in
the stage. Nearly opposite sat his former schoolmate,
Tom Carver, with a young lady at his side. Their
glances met, and Dan saw Tom's lip curl with scorn.
Of course he did not betray any mark of recognition,

"I like riding in a Broadway stage," he heard the
young lady say. ''There is more to see as you go
along. Besides, the company is more select."

"Not always," said Tom, with a significant glance
at Dan.

Dan felt indignant, but was too proud to show it

"The price excludes the lower classes from using
the stage," said the young lady.

"It ought to, but I have seen a newsboy in a
stage."

" How can they afford to pay ten cents for riding.?"

"I give it up," said Tom, shrugging his shoulders.

The lady who was with Dan noticed the direction
of Tom Carver's look. ^

A MYSTERIOUS LADY.

"Do you know that boy ?" she asked.

*' Yes," answered Dan, '' I used to know him."

**Why don't you know him now?"

" Because my father lost his property."

" I see," said the lady. " It is the way of the world.
Don't mind it."

''I don't," said Dan, promptly, returning Tom Car-
ver's stare.

Tom could not help hearing this conversation, and
learned for the first time that Dan and the handsomely
dressed lady beside him were in company.

"What can they have to do with each other?"
he asked himself, curiously. "She can't be a relation
— she is too handsomely dressed."

At this moment the young lady beside him dropped
her handkerchief Before Tom could stoop to pick it
up Dan had handed it to her with a polite bow.

* ' Thank you, " said the young lady, with a pleasant
smile.

"You needn't have troubled yourself," said Tom
Carver, irritated. "This young lady is under my
charge. "

**It is no trouble, I assure you," answered Dan.

"He is very polite," said the young lady, in a low
voice, "and very good-looking, too," she added, with
a second look at Dan.

A MYSTERIOUS LADY. g^

*'He is only a common newsboy," said Tom, not
relishing Julia Grey's tribute to a boy he disliked.

"I can't help what he is/' said the young lady,
independently ; "he looks like a gentleman."

Dan could not help catching the drift of their con-
versation, and his face flushed with pleasure, for Julia
was a very pretty girl, but not being addressed to him,
he could not take notice of it otherwise.

*' He lives at the Five Points somewhere," muttered
Tom.

The young lady seemed^ rather amused at Tom's
discomposure, and only smiled in reply.

The stage kept on till it reached Madison square.

"Will you pull the strap opposite the Fifth Avenue
Hotel?" said the lady, addressing Dan.

Dan did so.

He got out first, and helped his companion out.

" Follow me into the hotel," she said.

Dan did so.

"What is your name.?" asked the lady, as they
ascended the stairs.

" Dan Mordaunt. "

"I needn't ask if you have a good mother.?" she
proceeded.

"One of the best," said Dan, promptly.

"You look like a well-bred boy, and I infer that

A MYSTERIOUS LADY.

your mother is a lady. Come into the parlor. I wish
to speak to you on business.."

Dan followed her, wondering, and she signed to
him to take a seat on the sofa beside her.

''You have already told' me that you have no
sister," she began. i

"No, ma'am."

"Do you think your mother would enjoy the so-
ciety of a little girl .?"

" I think she would. "

"I have a little girl under my charge — my niece —
from whom, for reasons unnecessary to state, I am
obliged to part for a time. Do you think your mother
would be willing to take charge of her.? Of course I
would make it worth her while."

" I am sure she would like it," said Dan, for he saw
at a glance that this would be a very desirable arrange-
ment for them.

* ' Then you feel authorized to accept the charge in
your mother's name?"

"I do."

''The little girl is five years old. Your mother
would be w'illing to teach her until such time' as
she may be old enough to go to school.?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am."

"I think little girls are best off at home until the
age of seven or eight. "

A MYSTERIOUS lADY, 99

*' There is one objection/' said Dan.

"What is that?" asked the lady, quickly.

"We live in a poor room and a poor neighbor-
hood."

"That objection can be obviated. I shall pay you
enough to enable you to take better rooms."

Dan heard this with satisfaction.

"I may as well be explicit/' said the lady. "I pro-
pose to pay fifty dollars a month for my ward's board,
including, of course, your mother's care."

"Fifty dollars a month ! ' repeated Dan, astonished.

"If you consider that sufficient."

"I am afraid it won't be worth it," said Dan,
frankly.

' ' If Althea is well cared for, as I am sure she will
be, I shall have no fear of that. Let me add that I
shall allow your mother ten dollars per month extra
for the child's clothing — say sixty dollars in all. For
the present that will probably be enough."

"Oh, yes, I should think so/' said Dan. "When
do you want her to come to us?"

" Now. You will take her back with you."

"To-night?" asked Dan, startled.

"Yes, to-night. I must leave New York early to-
morrow. In fact, I leave the city by an early train."

"She would have to come to our poor lodgings/'
§aid Dan, hesitatingly.

lOO ^ MYSTERIOUS LADY.

''One night there won't matter. To-morrow you
can secure rooms up town."

**Yes, ma'am, I will. Our month expires to-mor-
row. "

"Now," said the lady, rising, "since the matter is
settled, come up stairs with me, and I will show you
the child."

- Dan followed the lady up stairs, feeling as if he
were in a dream, but a very pleasant one.

ALTHEA. lOT

CHAPTER XIII.

ALTHEA.

As the lady entered the room a little girl, with an
expression of joy, ran from the window from which
she had been looking, and took her hand.

'Tm so glad you've got home, auntie," she said.
' ' I got tired of being alone. "

**' I staid away longer than I intended, Althea," said
the lady. *'I was afraid you would feel lonely."

"I was z^^ry lonely. I wanted to go out into the
hall and play with a little girl that lives in the next
room, but I thought you wouldn't find me."

"I am glad you did not. I have brought you a
playfellow, Althea."

This drew the little girl's attention to Dan. Unlike
most girls of her age, she was not bashful.

"What is his name.?" she asked.

"Dan."

"What a funny name ! Are you going to live with
us, Dan.?"

"You are coming to live with me," said Dan,
smiling.

I02 ALTHEA.

''Will you be my brother?"

"Yes."

"And will you play with me?"

"Sometimes."

"I think I shall like you. You are nice-looking,'*
said Althea, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dan blushed. He found the compliment agree-
able, though it came from a little girl.

"So are you, Althea," he said.

"I don't think I am," said Althea. "I've black
hair, and my skin is dark. You have nice brown
hair, and are whiter than I am."
v,j."Some like dark people best," suggested Dan.

"I don't. I asked auntie to buy me a big cake of
soap to wash the brown off, but it wouldn't come."
.^-JDan smiled. He thought the bright, vivacious little
face, with the brilliant dark eyes, pretty, though Althea
didjiot.

"You will like to live with Dan, my dear?" said
her aunt, inquiringly.

"Yes, if you come, too."

"But I can't."

"Why, not, auntie?"

"I have got to go away — on business."

Althea looked disappointed.

,."! don't want you to go away, auntie," she said.
"Dan and I can't live alone."

ALTHEA.

103

''Dan has a mother, who will be very good to
you."

''Will she take care of me?" asked Althea, bright-
ening up.

"Yes, Althea."

' ' Is she nice. "

"Yes."

"Then she will be my mother?"

"Yes; you can call her mother."

"And you will come to see me some time, auntie?"

"Yes, my dear."

"Then I will go with Dan;" and the little girl
placed her hand confidingly in that of our hero.

Dan thought it would be pleasant for him to have a
little sister, and he knew that it would brighten his
mother's existence.

"Shall we go now, madam?" asked Dan, turning to
the lady.

"Not just yet. Come here, Dan."

Dan followed her to the window. She drew from
her pocket a wallet containing a considerable sum of
money.

"I will hand you two months' payment in advance,"
she said, "and afterward I will remit you monthly, or
direct you where to call for money. Two months at
fifty dollars will amount to one hundred, and twenty

104 ALTHEA.

more for Althea's dress will make it up to a hundred
and twenty. Have you a pocket-book ?"

"Yes, ma'am."

*' Are you careful of money?"

*' Whenever I have any to be careful about," an-
swered Dan.

* ' I hope you will be comfortably provided from this
time. There is a little trunk of Althea's clothes in
the trunk-room below. I will write you an order for
it, but you may as well wait till you have moved before
carrying it away. It will save you trouble."

**Yes, maam,"

** Have you had any supper.?"

*'No, ma'am."

''Then you shall go into supper with Althea and
myself."

"What! here, at the Fifth Avenue Hotel?" asked
Dan.

"Certainly."

"I'm afraid I don't look fit."

* ' You look well enough. At any rate, it's nobody's
business. We may as well go down now."

There was nothing to say, so Dan followed the
myjt-i-rious lady into the supper-room, Althea cling-
ing ^o his hand. He felt awkward as he took his
seat Suppose some one should recognize him as

ALTHEA.

105

^the newsboy who usually stood in front of the Astor
House !

Some one did recognize him.

The young lady whom Tom Carver was escorting
boarded at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and had alighted
at the same time with our hero, though he did not
observe it.

Tom had been invited to supper, and, with Julia
and her father, was seated at a neighboring table when
Dan entered.

Tom could hardly credit his eyes when he saw Dan
entering the supper-room, with the little girl clinging
to his hand.

''Well, I'll be blowed!" he ejaculated, forgetting
his manners in his surprise.

"What did you remark?" asked Julia, rather
amused.

*'I beg your pardon, but I was so astonished.
There is that newsboy coming into supper !"

''Where?"

"There."

"What a pretty little girl is with him I"

"That's so. Who can she be?"'

"You must be mistaken about your friend being a
newsboy/'

" He is no friend of mine."

" Your acquaintance, then ; though he is nice

Io6 ALTHEA.

enough looking to be a friend. Are you sure he is
a newsboy?"

"Certain. I saw him selling papers yesterday in
front of the Astor House. "

**His business must be good, or he would not
board at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. "

*'0f whom are you speaking, Julia?" asked her
father.

"Of that boy at the next table, pa."

"That boy! Why, that's my young friend of the
ferry-boat. Tom, have the kindness to ask him to
come here a moment and speak to me."

Much surprised, and considerably against his will,
Tom rose and walked over to where Dan was sitting.

"Look here," said he; "come over to the next
table, will you?"

"What for?" asked Dan.

* ' There's a gentleman wants to speak to you. "

Dan looked over and he recognized Mr. Rogers, of
the firm of Barton & Rogers, who had asked him to
call at his place of business on Pearl street.

"Good-evening, Mr. Rogers," he said, politely.

"Good-evening, my boy. Do you board here?"

"Not as a rule," answered Dan, smiling. "My
business don't allow it. I am dining here with some
friends. "

" What's your name ?"

ALTHEA. 107

'* Daniel Mordaunt. Everybody calls me Dan."

**Then, Dan, let me make you acquainted with my
daughter, Julia."

Dan bowed and smiled.

*'I think you were sitting opposite me in the stage,
Mr. Mordaunt," said Julia.

"Yes, Miss Rogers."

"You were polite enough to hand me my handker-
chief when I awkwardly dropped it. "

"Oh, don't mention it."

"I hope to meet ycu again."

"Thank you."

" What a pretty girl she is !" thought Dan.

"Dan, this young gentleman is Thomas Carver.
You must be nearly of an age. You ought to know
each other."

" I have known Mr. Carver a long time," said Dan,
smiling.

"Indeed !" said Mr. Rogers, surprised.

"We used to sit together at school."

"You didn't tell me that, Tom," said Julia Rogers,
turning to Tom.

"No," said Tom, embarrassed; "it is a good while
ago.

"I won't detain you any longer from your friends,"
said Mr. Rogers, politely. "I shall see you at the
office in the morning. "

io8 ALTHEA,

Dan bowed and withdrew.

' ' Where did you meet him, papa V asked Julia.

Her father told the story of Dan's exploit on the
ferry-boat.

" He is a very smart boy/' he said. "I shall prob-
ably take him into my employ. "

"I hope you will, papa. He is a very gentle-
manly boy. "

All this was very disagreeable to Tom Carver, but
he did not venture to say all that he felt, being some-
what in awe of Mr, Rogers.

'*They are making a great fuss over a common
newsboy,' he muttered to himself.

After supper, Dan prepared to take Althea home
with him. She felt so well acquainted already that
she made no objection, but, hand-in-hand, left the
hotel with Dan. He halted a Broadway stage, and
they got in.

*'Are you carrying me to where you live, Dan?"
asked the little girl.

''Yes, Althea."

*' Will your mother be glad to see me.?"

* ' Yes, she will be very glad. She wants a little girl
to keep her company."

*'Then I'm glad I'm going/

A NEIV HOME, ioq

CHAPTER XIV.

A NEW HOMK

Mrs. Mordaunt was apprised by Fanny that Dan
had gone up town with a lady, and therefore was not
alarmed when he did not return home at the usual
time. She hoped he would clear fifty cents, but had
no idea to what extent their fortunes would be ad-
vanced by Dan's evening's work.

'*I will save Dan some supper," she said to herself.
*' He will be hungry. "

So, mother-like, she supped economically herself,
on a cup of tea and some dry bread, and bought a bit
of steak for Dan's supper, for she thought he would be
very hungry at so late an hour.

It was nearly half-past eight when she heard Dan's
well known step on the stairs.

' She opened the door to welcome him, but the cheer-
ful welcome upon her lips died away in surprise when
she saw his companion.
-: "Who is this, Dan.?" she asked.

"She is going to be my little sister^ mother," said
Dan, gayly.

no A NEW HOME.

*'Will you be my mother?" said Althea, releasing
Dan's hand, and putting her own confidingly in that
of Mrs. Mordaunt.

"Yes, my dear," said the widow, her heart quite
won by the Httle girl's innocent confidence, and she
bent over and kissed her.

"What does it all mean, Dan?"' she asked, in be-
wilderment.

"It means that Althea is to board with us, and be
company for you. I have agreed with her aunt that
you will take her. "

"But does her aunt know that we live in such a
poor place?" asked his mother in a tone of hesitation.
^ "Yes, mother, but that makes no diff"erence, as we
shall move up town to-morrow. "

' '' I am sure you have acted for the best, Dan, but it
seems so strange."

"Will it seem strange to receive fifty dollars a month
for Althea's board ? ' asked Dan.

"Fifty dollars a month!" repeated the widow, in-
credulously.

"That's the figure, mother. I didn't suppose we
ought to charge more. "

"More, Dan ! Why, it is a fortune !"

"I don't know. That depends on Althea's appe*
tite. Are you a great eater, Althea?"

"Sometimes I am," said the little girl, naively.

A NEW HOME. m

-* Never mind, I guess there will be enough."

'•I nearly forgot, Dan. You will want some sup
per, I didn't know there would be two, but I will go
cut and buy some more meat., if you can wait "

"I have had supper, mother, or dinner rather. I
dined with Althea and her aunt at the Fifth Avenue
Hotel."

Here was another surprise.

''Has Althea been stopping there, Dan.?"

''Yes, mother."

"Then how can she stay even one night in this poor
place ?"

"I will ask her. Althea, do you mind stopping
here just one night.? We will go to a better place to-
morrow. "

'•No, Dan, I don't care."

"There, mother, I told you so, Althea is a brick."

"What a funny boy you are, Dan ! How can I be
a brick } A brick is red and ugly, and I am not. "

"No, Althea, you are not ugly, but your cheeks are
red."

"They don't look like a brick, Dan."

"No, they don't. I take it all back."

"I had got your supper all ready, Dan," said his
mother, regretfully.

"Then eat it yourself, mother."

"I have had my supper,"

112 A NEW HOME.

''You didn't have any meat, I'll warrant. Now,
like a good mother, sit down and eat the steak. "

Assured that Dan had supped well, Mrs. Mordaunt
didn't resist his advice.

Dan looked on, and saw with pleasure that his
mother relished the meat.

''We will be able to live better hereafter, mother,"
he said. "There won't be any stinting. Fifty dollars
will go a good ways, and then, besides, there will be
my earnings. I foigot to tell you, mother, that I have
probably got a place. "

"Our good fortune is coming all at once, Dan,"
said Mrs. Mordaunt, cheerfully.

"So it seems, mother. I think it has come to stay,
too."

"I feel so tired," said Althea, at this point. "Can
I go to bed r

"Certainly, my dear child. You can go at once."

In twenty minutes the little girl was in a sound
sleep. Dan was not sorry, for he wanted to tell his
mother about the day's adventures, and he could do
so more freely without any one to listen.

"So, mother," he concluded, "we are going to turn
over a new leaf We can't go back to our old style of
living just yet, but we can get out of this tenement-
house, and live in a respectable neighborhood.''

A NEW HOME. X13

''God has been good to us, Dan. We ought to feel
grateful to Him."

"I know it, mother, but somehow I don't think of
that as quick as you. Who do you think I saw in the
supper-room at the Fifth Avenue? Who but Tom
Carver. He was wonderfully puzzled to know how I
happened to be there. He told the party he was with
that I was a common newsboy."

*'He is a very mean boy," said Mrs. Mordaunt, in-
dignantly. ''After being so intimate with you too."

"Never mind, mother. He can't do me any harm,
and I don't care for his friendship. The time may
come when I can meet him on even terms."

"You can now, Dan."

"I mean in a worldly way. I shall work along, and
if I get rich I sha'n't be the first rich man that has risen
from the ranks."

"God grant you success, my son !"

Early the next morning Dan started out in search
of a new home.

He and his mother decided that they would like to
live somewhere near Union Square, as that would be a
pleasant afternoon resort for their young boarder.

"Will you go with me, mother.?" he asked.

"No, Dan, I have not time this morning. Besides
you know what will suit us."

"Very well, mother; I will do my best*

JJ4 A NEW HOME.

Dan crossed Broadway, and took a horse-car up
town.

In West Sixteenth street his attention was drawn to
the notice, "Furnished Rooms to Let," upon a good-
looking brick house.

He rang the bell, and asked to see the lady of the
house.

A stout, matronly looking woman, with a pleasant
face, answered the servant's call.

"I called to inquire for rooms," said Dan.

"For yourself.?" asked Mrs. Brown.

" For my mother, and sister, and myself"

"I have a large back loom on the third floor, and a
small room on the fourth floor."

"May I see them.?"

"Come up stairs, sir."

First Dan went into the large room.

It was neatly carpeted and furnished, and had a
cheerful outlook.

"This will do for mother and Althea," he said.

"Will you look at the little room .?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I am sure that will suit. It is
for me, and I am not particular But there's one thing
ihat may trouble us."

"What is that?'

"Where can mother prepare our meals.? She can't
cook in the bedroom."

A NEW HOME. „-

"I will give her the privilege of using my kitchen.
I don't care to take boarders, as it would be too much
care, but jour mother is welcome to use my kitchen
stove. "

** Won't it interfere with you?"

''Leave that to your mother and myself," said Mrs.
Brown, with a pleasant smile. "We can make some
satisfactory arrangement. "

''How much do you want for your rooms?" asked
Dan.

"Will you be permanent?"

"We will be permanent, if suited."

"Of course ; that is all I ask. Will four dollars a
week suit you ?"

"We will pay it," said Dan, quite relieved, for he
feared he should have to pay more. "Can we move
in to-day?"

"Any time, sir."

"Thank you."

"I generally ask a week's rent in advance," said
Mrs. Brown, "but in your case I won't insist upon
it."

"Oh, it is perfectly convenient," said Dan, and he
drew out his pocket-book containing the money-
over a hundred dollars—which Althea's aunt had
given him.

Mrs. Brown's respect for Dan was considerably in-

Il6 A NEW HOME.

creased by this display of wealth, and she congratulat-
ed herself on securing such substantial lodgers.

This business accomplished Dan went down town,
and informed his mother of the arrangement he had
made. Before night Mrs. Mordaunt, Althea, and he
were installed in their new home, much to the regret
of Mrs. Rafferty, who regretted losing so good a
neighbor. Before this, however, Dan sought the
counting-room of Barton & Rogers.

DAN BECOMES A DETECTIVE. nj

CHAPTER XV.

DAN BECOMES A DETECTIVE.

Barton & Rogers evidently did business in a large
way. Tliey occupied an imposing-looking building of
five stories, the greater part being used to store goods.
Dan entered and looked around him. A spare, dark-
complexioned man of about thirty-five, with a pen be-
hind his ear, was issuing orders to a couple of work-
men.

Dan approached him.

*'Is Mr. Rogers in.?" he asked.

**No, he is not," said the dark man, curtly.

''Will he be in soon.?"

"I don't know."

*' You might be more civil,'' thought our hero.

He stood his ground, feeling authorized to do so
because he had come by appointment.

Observing this, the book-keeper turned and said,
sharply :

''Didn't you hear.? I said Mr. Rogers was out."

"I heard you," said Dan, quietly.

"Then why do you remain.? Do you doubt my
word?"

Il8 DAN BECOMES A DETECTIVE.

"Not at all, sir; but Mr. Rogers asked me to call
this morning. I can wait."

" You can tell me your business."

" Thank you, but I don't think that would do."

The book-keeper eyed him sharply, and his face
lighted up with a sudden discovery.

**I know you now," he said. "You sell papers in
front of the Astor House, don't you ?"

" That has been my business."

"I thought so ; I have bought papers of you."

"Thank you for your patronage."

"What can you want of Mr. Rogers.?"

" Mr. Rogers wants me, I suppose, or he would not
have asked me to call," returned Dan.

"You are a cool hand."

"Not always," said Dan, with a smile. "Some hot
davs I am far from cool. "

"I suppose Mr. Rogers wishes you to supply him
with an evening paper.?"

"Perhaps he does," returned Dan, with a smile.
"Confound the fellow! I can't make anj^thing of
him. When did you see Mr. Rogers last.?"

"In the supper-room of the Fifth Avenue Hotel."

"How happened you to be there.?" demanded Tal-
bot, the book-keeper, in surprise.

"I was taking supper," said Dan, rather enjoying

DAN BECOMES A DETECTIVE.

119

the other's surprise, ''and Mr. Rogers saw me from
another table."

" Humph ! Do you often take supper at the Fifth
Avenue Hotel?"

' ' Not often. "

* ' Selling papers must be very profitable. "

*'I'm willing to change places with you/'

Just then ]\Ir. Rogers entered the warehouse.

"Ah ! you are here before me, Dan," he remarked,
pleasantly. " Have you been here long?"

''No, sir; only about five minutes. "

"I must keep you waiting a few minutes longer
while I look at my letters. The letters have arrived,
have they not, Mr. Talbot ?"

"Yes, sir.'*

"Amuse yourself as you like while you are waiting.
Dan," said the merchant.

Mr. Talbot, the book-keeper, followed the merchant
into the counting-room, and Dan was left alone. He
looked about him with interest, thinking it probable
that this was to be his future business home. It
-would certainly be a piece of good fortune to become
attached to so large and important a house, and he felt
in ver}^ good spirits, though he foresaw that Mr. Tal-
bot would not make it very pleasant for him. But
with his employer on his side he need not be alarmed.

I20 DAN BECOMES A DETECTIVE.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Mr. Rogers emerged
from the counting-room.

*'I have to go o\it a few minutes," he said to Dan.
"Come with me, and we can talk on the way."

''Certainly, sir."

Mr. Talbot followed the two with a frown upon his
brow.

' ' How on earth has that boy managed to get round
Mr. Rogers.?" he asked himself. "I hope he won't be
foolish enough to take him in here. "

Talbot had a nephew whom he was anxious to get
into the business, and Dan's engagement would mter-
fere with his little plan. This partly accounts for his
brusque reception of Dan on his first arrival.

"Well, how do you like our place of business,
Dan .?" asked Mr. Rogers.

"Very much, sir."

"Would you rather sell papers or take employment
with me.?"

"I should like very much to be in your employ,
sir."

"'How much did you earn as a newsboy.?"

"When I was lucky I made a dollar a day."

"Then I ought to give you six dollars a week."

"I will come for less, sir."

" I will pay you what I said. It is more than boys

DAN BECOMES A DETECTIVE. 121

generally get at the start, but I am willing to pay a
good sum to a boy who suits me."

*'I will try to suit you, sir."

'' Do you know why I take you into my employ?"

"Out of kindness, sir."

*'I feel kindly disposed to you, Dan, but that is not
my chief reason. "

Dan was puzzled, and waited to hear more.

* ' My attention was drawn to you on the ferry-boat.
I observed your detection of the mean scamp who
cheated a poor flower-girl by offering her bad money,
and I inferred that you were sharp and keen. "

"I hope I am, sir."

**That is the sort of boy I want just now. Did you
observe Mr. Talbot, my book-keeper.?"

''Yes, sir."

"What did you think of him?"
. Dan smiled.

" I don't think he admires me much," he answered.
" He wanted to clear me out before you came in."

"Did he.?"

' ' Yes ; he recognized me as a newsboy. "

"I understand his reception of you. He has a
nephew whom he wishes me to engage. He is jealous
of all possible rivals."

"Perhaps his nephew would suit you better, sir/'
said Dan, modestly.

122 DA^/ BECOMES A DETECTIVE.

"Are you willing to resign in his favor?"

**I prefer to leave that to you, sir."

*'You can do so safely. The nephew is a disagree-
able boy, who would not suit me at all. He thinks
more of dress than of duty, and, if I read him aright,
is lazy and incompetent. Nevertheless, Mr. Talbot has
spoken to me about taking him. "

''Perhaps he doesn't know his nephew's faults."
' "He knows them well enough, but is desirous of
promoting his interests. He won't look upon you very
favorably when he learns that I have engaged you."

" If you are satisfied, I won't care for that."

"Well spoken, my lad. And now for a few words
in confidence," and Mr. Rogers lowered his voice.
"Our business is a large one, and the sums of money
handled are necessarily large. Three months since I
ascertained that somewhere in my establishment there
was a leak. We are losing money in some unex-
plained way. I believe that some one in whom I
repose confidence is betraying me. "

Dan listened in earnest attention.

"Do you suspect any one, sir?" he asked,

"I suspect Mr. Talbot," he said, in the same low
voice.

Dan started in surprise.

"It seems strange, perhaps, that I should speak so

DAN' BECOMES A DETECTIVE. 123

confidentially to you — a mere boy — but I am im-
pressed with the idea that you can help me. "

"If I can, sir, I will," said Dan, earnestly.

' ' I don't doubt it. My first injunction is to say no
word, even to your nearest relations, of what I have
told you."

*a won't, sir."

''Next, keep a watch over Mr. Talbot. I want to
know what are his habits, whether he uses money
freely, with whom he associates. Can you, without
betraying to him that he is watched, find out some
information for me on these points.?"

"I will try, sir."

"If you secure any information, never communi-
cate it to me in the office. Either come to my house,
or write me there."

"Yes, sir."

"You understand that I am employing you in a
detective capacity, and that your time will partly be
taken up oat of business hours. I intend to pay you
extra, according to results. Is that satisfactory.?"

"Perfectly so, Mr. Rogers, but I am afraid you will
be disappointed in me."

"I will take my risk of that."

" Have you any directions to give me, sir, as to how
to go to work ?"

"No; I am nothing of a detective myself I leave

124 ^^^ BECOMES A DETECTIVE.

that to you. I might, of course, employ a profes-
sional detective, but Talbot is sharp, and he would
suspect. You he will not suspect. He won't dream
of my employing a boy. That is all I have to say for
the present. When can you come to work .?"

*'I can come to-morrow morning. To-day we are
going to move. "

"To-morrow let it be, then. Good-morning, Dan."

Mr. Rogers shook hands with our hero, and walked
away.

*'I am afraid I have a hard job on my hands/'
thought Dan, ' ' but I will do my best, "

DAN makes; a discovery. 125

CHAPTER XVI.

DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

Dan's mother was much pleased with her new quar-
ters. The large room, occupied by Althea and her-
self, was bright and cheerful, and well furnished.
Besides the ordinary chamber furniture, there was a
comfortable arm-chair and a lounge. Mrs. Mordaunt
felt that she would not be ashamed now to receive a
visit from some of her former friends.

She had anticipated some trouble about the prepara-
tion of meals, but Mrs. Brown made a proposition
which wonderfully removed all difficulties.

''Mrs. Mordaunt,'' she said, **your family is about
the same as mine. I have a son who is employed in
a newspaper office down town, and you have two
young children. Now, suppose we club together, and
each pay half of the table supplies. Then one day
you can superintend the cooking — you will only have
to direct my servant Maggie — and the next day I will
do it. Then, every other day, each of us will be a
lady of leisure, and not have to go into the kitchen at
all. What do you say .?"

126 DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

"The arrangement will be so much to my advan-
tage that I can say only one thing — I accept with
thanks. But won't you be doing more than your
share? You will be furnishing the fuel, and pay
jVIaggie's wages. "

' ' I should have to do that at any rate. The plan is
perfectly satisfactory to me, if it suits you.''

Mrs. Mordaunt found that the expense was not be-
yond her means. Her income for the care of Althea
was fifty dollars a month, and Dan paid her four dol-
lars a week out of his wages, reserving the balance as
a fund to purchase clothes. She went herself to mar-
ket and selected articles for the table, and, for the first
time since her husband's failure, found herself in easy
circumstances.

There was no need now to make vests at starvation
prices. She had thought of continuing, but Dan in-
sisted upon her giving it up entirely.

"If you want to sew, mother," he said, "you can
make some of Althea's clothes, and pay yourself out
of the ten dollars a month allowed for her clothes."

This was sensible and proper, and Mrs. Mordaunt
decided to follow Dan's advice. She lost no time in
obtaining books for the little girl, and commencing
her education. Althea knew her letters, but nothing
more. She was bright and eager to learn, and gained
rapidly under her new teacher.

DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

127

Naturally, Dan and his mother were curious as to
Althea's early history, but from the little girl they ob-
tained little information.

''Do you remember your mother, Althea?" asked
Dan, one evening.

"Yes," said the little girl.

''When did you see her last.?"

"Not long ago. Only a little while before you
brought me here."

"Your mother isn't dead, is she?"

' ' No ; but she's gone away. "

"Why did she go away.?"

"She is sick. That's what auntie told me. Poor
mamma cried very much when she went away. She
kissed me, and called me her darling."

"Do you know where she went.?"

"No; I don't know."

"Perhaps her lungs are affected, and she has gone
to a warmer climate," suggested Mrs. Mordaunt. "She
may have gone to Florida, or even to Italy."

"Where is your father.?" asked Dan, turning to
Althea.

"Father is a bad man," said the child, positively.
"He made mamma cry. He went away a good while
ago."

"And didn't he come back .?"

"He came back once, and then mamina cried

128 DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

again. I think he wanted mamma to give him some
money. "

Dan and his mother talked over the little girl's
revelations, and thought they had obtained a clew to
the mystery in which the child's history was involved.
Althea's mother might have married a man of bad
habits, who wanted to get possession of her fortune,
and rendered a separation necessary. Ill health might
have required her to leave home and shift the care of
the little girl upon strangers. It seemed rather odd
that she should have been handed over to utter
strangers, but there might have been reasons of which
they knew nothing.

"We won't trouble ourselves about it," said Dan.
"It's good luck for us, even if it was bad luck for
Althea's mother. I like the idea of having a little
sister. "

Althea's last name was not known to her new pro-
tector. When Dan inquired, he was told that she
could pass by his name, so Althea Mordaunt she be-
came.

Both Dan and his mother had feared that she might
become homesick, but the fear seemed groundless.
She was of a happy disposition, and almost imme-
diately began to call Mrs. Mordaunt mother.

"I call you mother," she said, "but I have a
mamma besides ; but she has gone away. "

DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

129

^'You must not forget your mamma, my dear/
said the widow.

''No, I won't. She will come back some day; she
said she would."

''And I will take care of you till she does, Althea."

"Yes," said the child, nodding. " I am glad I
came to you, for now I have a brother Dan."

"And I have a little sister," said Dan.

While Dan was away, and now he was away after
supper regularly, Althea was a great deal of company
for Mrs. Mordaunt.

In the pleasant afternoons she took the little girl
out to walk, frequently to Union Square Park, where
she made acquaintance with other little girls, and had
a merry time, while her new mother sat on one of the
benches.

One day a dark-complexioned gentleman, who had
been looking earnestly at Althea, addressed Mrs. Mor-
daunt.

"That is a fine little girl of yours, madam," he
said.

"Thank you," said Mrs. Mordaunt.

"She does not resemble you much," he said, in-
quiringly.

"No; there is very little resemblance," answered
Mrs. Mordaunt, quietly, feeling that she must be on
her guard.

130 DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

"Probably she resembles her father?" again essayed
the stranger.

Mrs. Mordaunt did not reply, and the stranger
thought she was offended.

*'I beg your pardon," he said, "but she resembles
a friend of mine, and that called my attention to
her."

Mrs. Mordaunt bowed, but thought it wisest not to
protract the conversation. She feared that the in-
quirer might be a friend of the father, and hostile to
the true interests of the child.

For a week to come she did not again bring Althea
to the park, but walked with her in a different direc-
tion. When, after a week, she returned to the square,
the stranger had disappeared. At all events, he was
not to be seen.

We pass now to Dan and his interests.

Mr. Talbot heard of his engagement with anything
but satisfaction. He even ventured to remonstrate
with Mr. Rogers.

"Do you know that this boy whom you have en-
gaged is a common newsboy?" he asked. "I have
bought a paper more than once of him, in front of the
Astor House."

* ' So have I, " answered Mr. Rogers, quietly.

"Then you know all about him?"

"Yes."

DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY. 131

"It is none of my business, but I think you could
easily get a better boy. There is my nephew "

"Your nephew would not suit me, Mr. Talbot."

The book-keeper bit his lip.

"Won't you give him a trial .?" he asked.

' ' I have engaged Dan. "

" If Dan should prove unsatisfactory, would you try
my nephew?"

"Perhaps so."

It was an incautious concession, for it was an in-
ducement to the book-keeper to get Dan into trouble.

It was Dan's duty to go to the post-office, some-
times to go on errands, and to make himself generally
useful about the warehouses. As we know, however,
he had other duties of a more important character, of
which Mr. Talbot knew nothing.

The first discovery Dan made was made through the
book-keeper's carelessness.

Mr. Rogers was absent in Philadelphia, when Talbot
received a note which evidently disturbed him. Dan
saw him knitting his brows, and looking moody.
Finally he hastily wrote a note, and called Dan.

"Take that to — Wall street," he said, "and don't
loiter on the way. "

The note was directed to Jones & Robinson.

On reaching the address, Dan found that Jones &
Robinson were stock brokers.

132 DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

Jones read the note.
, *'You come from Mr. Talbot.?" he asked.

"Yes, sir.''

"Tell him we will carry the stocks for him a week
longer, but can't exceed that time."

"Perhaps you had better write him a note," sug-
gested Dan, "as he may not like to have me know his
business."

"Very well"

So Dan carried back the note.

"I believe I have made a discovery," he said to
himself. "Mr. Talbot is speculating in Wall street.
I wonder if he speculates with his own money or the
firm's.?"

His face, however, betrayed nothing as he handed
the note to the book-keeper, and the latter, after a
searching glance, decided that there was nothing to
fear in that quarter.

TALBOT'S SECRET.

CHAPTER XVII.

TALBOT S SECRET

Some light may be thrown upon Mr. Talbot's opera-
tions, if the reader will accompany him to a brown-
stone house on Lexington avenue, on the evening of
the dav when Dan was sent to the office of the Wall
street brokers.

Mr. Talbot ascended the steps, not with the elastic
step of a man with whom the world is prospering, but
with the slow step of a man who is burdened with
care.

'*Is Miss Conway at home.?" he inquired of the ser-
vant who answered the bell.

"Yes, sir."

"Will you tell her I should like to speak with her.?"

"Yes, sir."

Talbot walked in with the air of one who was famil-
iar with the house, and entering a small front room,
took a seat.

The furniture was plain, and the general appearance
was that of a boarding-house.

Talbot seemed immersed in thought, and only

^34

TALBOT'S SECRET.

raised his eyes from the carpet when he heard the
entrance of a young lady. His face lighted up, and
he rose eagerly.

**My dear Virginia," he said, *'it seems a long time
since I saw you. "

*'It is only four days," returned the young lady,
coolly.

"Four days without seeing you is an eternity.^'

The young lady smiled. It was easy to see that
Talbot was in love, and she was not.

"A very pretty compliment," she said. "Well,
have you any news .?"

**Not good news," said he, soberly.

She shrugged her shoulders, and looked disap-
pointed.

Before going further, it may be as well to describe
briefly the young lady who had so enthralled the
book-keeper.

She had the advantage of youth, a complexion clear
red and white, and decidedly pretty features. If there
was a defect, it was the expression of her eyes. There
was nothing soft or winning in her glance. She
seemed, and was, of a cold, calculating, unsympa-
thetic nature. She was intensely selfish, and was re-
solved only to marry a man who could gratify her taste
for finery and luxurious living.

She was the niece of Mrs. Sinclair, who Kept the

TALBOT'S SECRET. 135

boarding-house, and though living in dependence
upon her aunt, did nothing to relieve her from the
care and drudgery incidental to her business.

''It's too provoking," she said, pouting.

''So it is, Virginia;" and Talbot tried to take her
hand, but she quietly withdrew it.

''You told me that you would have plenty of money
by this time, Mr. Talbot."

"I expected it, but a man can't foresee the fluctua-
tions of Wall street. I am afraid I shall meet with a
loss."

"I don't believe you are as smart as Sam Eustis —
he's engaged to my cousin. He made ten thousand
dollars last month on Lake Shore."

"It's the fools that blunder into luck," said Talbot,
irritated.

"Then you'd better turn fool ; it seems to pay," said
Virginia, rather sharply.

"No need of that — I'm fool enough already," said
Talbot, bitterly.

"Oh, well, if you've only come here to make your-
self disagreeable, I'm sure you'd better stay away," said
the young lady, tossing her head.

"I came here expecting sympathy and encourage-
ment," said Talbot. "Instead, you receive me with
taunts and coldness."

"You are unreasonable, Mr. Talbot," said Vir-

136 TALBOT'S SECRET.

ginia. *'I will be cheerful and pleasant when you
bring me agreeable news."

"Oh, Virginia!" exclaimed Talbot, impulsively.
*'Why will you require impossibilities of me? Take
me as I am. I have an income of two thousand dol-
lars a year. We can live comfortably on that, and be
happy in a snug little home."

*'Snug little home!" repeated the young lady,
scornfully. "Thank you; I'd rather not. I know
just what that means. It means that I am to be a
household drudge., afraid to spend an extra sixpence
— perhaps obliged to take lodgers, like my aunt. "

"Not so bad as that, Virginia."

"It would come to that in time."

" I am sure you cannot love me when you so coolly
give me up for money."

''I haven't given you up, but I want you to get
money."

"Would to Heaven I could !"

"You could if you were in earnest."

"Do you doubt that?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way, Mr. Talbot.
If you really care so much for me, you will try to sup-
port me as I want to live. "

"Tell me, in a word, what you want."

"Well," said Virginia, slowly, "I want to go to
Europe for my honey-moon. I've heard so much of

TALBOT'S SECRET.

Paris, I know I should like it ever so much. Then I
want to live respectably when I get back. "

**What do you call living respectably.?" asked
Talbot.

"Well, we must have a nice little house to our-
selves, and I think, just at first, I could get along with
three servants ; and I should want to go to the opera,
and the theater, and to concerts. "

"You have not been accustomed to live in that
way, Virginia."

"No ; and that's why I have made up my mind not
to marry unless my husband can gratify me."

"Suppose this is impossible.?"

"Impossible for you!" said Miss Conway, signifi-
cantly.

"You mean you will look elsewhere.?" said Talbot,
hastily.

"Yes, I think so," said Virginia, coolly.

"And you would desert me for a richer suitor.?" he
demanded, quickly.

"Of course I would rather marry you — you know
that," said Virginia, with perfect self-possession ; "but
if you can't meet my conditions, perhaps it is better
that we should part."

"You are cruel — heartless !" exclaimed Talbot, an-
grily.

"No; only sensible," she returned, calmly. "I

138 TALBOT'S SECRET.

don't mean to marry you and be unhappy all my life ;
and I can't be happy living in the stuffy way my aunt
does. We should both be sorry for such a marriage
when it was too late."

*'I will take the risk, Virginia," said Talbot, fixing
his eyes with passionate love on the cold-hearled girl.

"But I will not," said Virginia, decidedly. "I am
sure you needn't take it to heart, Mr. Talbot. Why
don't you exert yourself and win a fortune, as other
people do.? I am sure plenty of money is made in
Wall street."

''And lost."

"Not if you are smart. Come now, smooth your
face, and tell me you will try, " she said, coaxingly.

"Yes, Virginia, I will try," he answered, his face
clearing. "And if I try *'

"You will succeed," she said, smiling.

"Well, I hope I may."

"And now don't let us talk about disagreeable
things. Do you know, sir, it is a week since you took
me to any place of amusement.? And here I have been
moping at home every evening with my aunt, who is
terribly tireseme, poor old soul !"

"I would rather spend the evening here with you,
Virginia, than go to any place of amusement. "

"Then I can't agree with you. One gets tired of
spooning. "

TALBOT'S SECRET.

139

*'I don't — if you call by that name being in the
company of one you love."

*'You would, if you had as little variety as I have."

"Tell me one thing, Virginia — you love me, don't
you.?" asked Talbot, in whose mind sometimes there
rose an unpleasant suspicion that his love was not re-
turned.

"Why, of course I do, you foolish man," she said
carelessly. '*And now, where are you going to take
me.?"

"Where do you want to go, my darling.?"

"To the Italian opera. To-morrow they play 'The
Huguenots.'"

"I thought you didn't care for music, Virginia.?"

"I don't go for that. I want to go because it's fash-
ionable, and I want to be seen. So, be a good boy,
and get some nice seats for to-morrow evening. "

"Very well, my darling."

"And you'll try to get rich, for my sake.?"

"Yes, Virginia. How rich must I be?"

"As soon as you can tell me you have ten thousand
dollars, and will spend half of it on a trip to Europe,
I will marry you. "

" Is that a bargain .?"

"Yes."

"Then I hope to tell you so soon."

"The sooner the better."

140 TALBOT'S SECRET.

When Talbot left the house it was with the deter-
mination to secure the sum required by any means,
however objectionable. His great love had made him
reckless.

Virginia Conway followed his retreating form with
her cool, calculating glance.

"Poor man ! he is awfully in love !" she said to her-
self "I'll give him two months to raise the money,
and if he fails, I think I can captivate Mr. Cross,
though he's horrid."

Mr. Cross was a middle-aged grocer, a widower,
without children, and reputed moderately wealthy.

When Mr. Talbot had entered the house, Dan was
not far off. Later, he saw him at the window with
Virginia.

"I suppose that's his young lady," thought Dan.
*'A11 right ! I guess he's safe for this evening."

TWO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY. 141

CHAPTER XVIII.

TWO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY.

Stocks took an upward turn, so that Talbot's
brokers were willing to carry them for him longer
without an increase of margin. The market looked
so uncertain, however, that he decided to sell, though
he only made himself whole. To escape loss hardly
satisfied him, when it was so essential to make money.

He was deeply in love with Virginia Conway, but
there was no hope of obtaining her consent to a mar-
riage unless he could raise money enough to gratify
her desires.

How should he do it.?

He was returning to his boarding-house at a late
hour one night, when, in an unfrequented street, two
figures advanced upon him from the darkness, and,
while one seized him by the throat, the other rifled his
pockets.

Talbot wa&not a coward, and having only a few dol-
lars in his pocket-book, while his watch, luckily, was
under repair at Tiffany's, he submitted quietly to the
examination.

142 TWO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY.

The pocket-book was opened and its contents
eagerly scanned.

An exclamation of disgust mingled with profanity
followed.

''Only five dollars, Mike!" muttered one of the
ruffians.

"Why don't you carry money, like a gentleman.?"
demanded the man called Mike. "Ain't you ashamed
to carry such a lean wallet as that there .?"

"Really, gentlemen, if I had expected to meet you,
I would have provided myself better, "said Talbot, not
without a gleam of humor.

"He's chaffing us Bill," said Mike.

"You'd better not, if you know what's best for
yourself," growled Bill. "Where's your ticker?"

" My watch is at Tiffany's."

"That's too thin."

" It's the truth. You ought to have waited till next
week, when I'd have had it for you."

"You're a cool customer."

"Why not.?"

"We might hurt you."

"You have already. Don't squeeze my throat so
next time."

" Have you any jewelry about you .?"

" Only a pair of sleeve buttons."

"Gold.?"

TWO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY. 143

"Yes; but they are small, and not worth much."
"You've took us in reg'lar ! A gent like you ought

to have diamond studs, or a pin, or something of

value. "

"I know it, and I'm sorry I haven't, for your

sakes. "

"No chaffing !" said Bill, with an ominous growl.

"Don't be afraid. I look upon you as gentlemen,
and treat you accordingly. In fact, I'm glad I've met
with you.''

"Why.?" asked Mike, suspiciously.

"I may be able to put something in your way."

"Are you on the square.?" asked Bill, rather sur-
prised.

"Yes."

"What is it.?"

"I can't tell you in the street. Is there any
quiet place, where we shall not be disturbed or over-
heard.?"

The men looked at each other in doubt.

"This may be a plant," said Mike, suspiciously.

"On my honor, it isn't."

"If it is," growled Bill, "you'd better make your
will."

"I know the risk, and am not afraid. In short, I
have a job for you. "

144

TfVO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY.

The men consulted, and finally were led to put con-
fidence in Talbot.

*' Is there money in it?" asked Mike.

"Two hundred dollars apiece."

*' We'll hear what you have to say. Bill, let's go to
your room."

''Is it far away?" asked Talbot.

''No."

"Lead on, then."

The three made their way to a dilapidated build-
ing on Houston street, and ascended to the fourth
floor.

Bill kicked open the door of a room with his foot
ind strode in.

A thin, wretched- looking woman sat in a wooden
chair, holding a young child.

" Is it you. Bill ?" she asked.

"Yes, it's me !" growled her husband. "Just clear
out into the other room. Me and these gentlemen
have business together. "

She meekly obeyed the command of her lord,
glancing curiously at Talbot as she went out. Mike
she knew only too well, as one of her husband's evil
companions.

The door was closed, but the wife bent her ear to
the keyhole and listened attentively.

Suspecting nothing, the conspirators spoke in louder

TWO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY.

145

tones than they were aware of, so that she obtained a
pretty clear idea of what was being planned.

"Now go ahead," said Bill, throwing himself on
the chair his wife had vacated. ''What's your game.^"

"Can you open a safe?" asked Talbot.

"We might, 'specially if we knowed the combina-
tion."

"Perhaps I can manage that."

"Where is it.?"

Talbot gave the name of his employer and the
number of his store.

"What have you got to do with it.?"

"I'm the book-keeper."

"You are.? What are you going to make out of
it.?"

"Leave that to me. I'll guarantee that you'll find
four hundred dollars there to pay you for youi
trouble. "

"That isn't enough. The risk is too great."

"It is only one night's work."

"If we're caught, it'll be Sing Sing for seven
vears. "

"That's true. How much do you require, gentle-
men.?"

The men consulted.

"We might do it for five hundred apiece," said
Bill,

1^6 TWO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY.

There was a little discussion, but finally this was ac-
ceded to. Various details were discussed, and the
men separated.

"I'm goin' your way/' said Mike. " I'll show you
the way out. "

"All right, thank you, but we'd better separate at
the street door."

"Why.? Are you too fine a gentleman to be seen
with the likes of me.?" demanded Mike, feeling in-
sulted.

"Not at all, my friend; but if we were seen to-
gether by any of the police, who know me as book-
keeper, it would excite suspicion later."

"You're right. Your head's level. You're sure
you're on the square .?"

"Yes, my friend. I shouldn't dare to tamper with
men like you and Bill. You might find a way to get
even with me."

"That's so, stranger. I guess we can trust you."

"You may be sure of that."

"More crime!" said the miserable wife to herself,
as she heard through the keyhole the details of the
plan. "Bill is getting worse and worse every day.
Where will it all end .?"

"Here, Nancy, get me something to eat," said Bill,
when his visitors had departed.

"Yes, Bill, I will get you all there is,"

T^VO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY.

147

The wife brought out from a small closet a slice of
bread and a segment of cheese."

"Pah !" said the burly ruffian, turning up his nose.
"What are you giving us?"

"It's all I've got, Bill."

"Where's the meat, I say.?"

"There is. none."

"You and your brat have eaten it!" said he,
irritably.

"God help us, Bill ! We have had no meat for a
week. "

"That's a lie! I can't eat such trash as that. Do
you mean to starve me.?"

"I can't make food, Bill. If you will give money,
I will provide better. I can't do anything without
money."

"Whining, are you?" said the brute, furiously.
"I'll teach you to complain of me. Take that, and
that !" and he struck the woman two brutal blows
with his fist. One, glancing, struck the child, who
began to cry. This further irritated Bill, who, seiz-
ing his wife by the shoulders, thrust her out on the
landing.

"There, stay there with the cursed brat!" he
growled. "I mean to have one quiet night."

The wretched wife crept down stairs, and out into
the street, scarcely knowing what she did. She was

148 TWO KNlGhTS OF THE HIGHWAY.

not wholly destitute of spirit, and though she might
have forgiven personal injury, felt incensed by *.he
treatment of her innocent child.

"My poor baby!"' she said, pitifully, "must you
suifer because your father is a brute? May Heaven
avenge our wrongs ! Sooner or later it will."

She sat down on some steps near by ; the air was
chilly, and she shivered with the cold, but she tried
to shelter her babe as well as she could. She
attracted the attention of a boy v/ho was walking
slowly by.

It was Dan, who had at a distance witnessed
Talbot's encounter with the burglars, and his sub-
sequent friendly companionship with them, and was
trying to ascertain the character of the place which he
visited.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Dan, in a
tone of sympathy.

"My husband has thrust me out of doors with my
poor baby. "

"He must be a nice husband. Do you want a
lodging?"

"I have no money."

"1 can let you have enough for that. There's a
cheap hotel near by. I'll take you to it, and pay for
your lodging, and pay for it in advance."

" Heaven bless you ! You are indeed a friend."

''Whafs the matte*: with you? ' asked Dan, in a -^up o" "'vmpat.hy.

Page 148

TJVO KNIGHTS OF THE HIGHWAY. 145

''Take my arm."

Supported by Dan, the poor woman rose and
walked to an humble tavern not far awav.

**She may know something about Talbot's visit.
I'll question her," thought Dan.

t^jO DAN AS A GOOD SAMARITAN.

CHAPTER XIX.

DAN AS A GOOD SAMARITAN.

''What made your husband treat you so badly?"
asked Dan.

*' Rum !" answered the woman. ''Rum has been
sinking him lower and lower, and it's easy to see
the end."

"What will be the end.?"

"The prison — perhaps the gallows."

"You are taking too dark a view of your hus-
band," said Dan, soothingly. "He won't go as far
as that. "

The woman shook her head.

"I know him only too well," she said. "This very
evening he has been planning a burglary. "

Dan started, and a sudden suspicion entered his
mind.

" Did you hear him doing it.?" he asked.

"Yes."

" Do you know where it is.?" he asked, eagerly.

"Yes; it is a store on Pearl street."

Dan felt that he was on the track of a discovery.

DAN AS A GOOD SAMARITAN.

15^

He was likely to be repaid at last for the hours he had-
spent in detective service.

"Who put him up to it?" he asked, fixing his eyes
intently on the woman.

" I dcn't know his name; he is a well-dressed man.
I think he is in the store."

''Was it a man who came to your rooms this
evening V

''Yes."

"Is this the way he looked?" Here Dan gave a
rapid description of Talbot.

"That is the man. Do you know him?"

"Yes, I know him. He is the book-keeper of the
firm."

"He is a bad man. He is to pay a thousand dol-
lars for the job. Bill is to have half of it. "

"Bill, I suppose, is your husband?"

"Yes."

Dan looked thoughtful. Here was a most import-
ant discover}\ He must consider what to do.

By this time they had reached a small public-house,
of humble exterior, but likely to afi"ord his companion
better accommodations than she had at home.

"Come in," said Dan.

The woman followed him, with the child in her
arms. A stout German, who appeared to be the
proprietor of the establishment, was sitting in an

152 DAN AS A GOOD SAMARITAN.

arm-chair, smoking a pipe. He scanned the party
phlegmatically.

''What you wants?" he asked.

"Can you give this lady a room ?" asked Dan.

*' Is she your vife?" asked the German, with a broad
grin.

''No; she is an acquaintance of mine. Her hus-
band has driven her out of his house in a fit of
drunkenness. Can she sleep here .?"

"Has she got any money.?" asked the Dutchman,
shrewdly.

" I will pay for her lodging."

"That's all right. She shall stay here."

"What will you charge.?"

" Fifty cents a night for the lodging. "

"Here it is."

"Will the lady go up now?" asked the landlord,
upon whom the silver half-dollar produced a visible
impression.

"Yes," said the woman ; "my poor baby is tired."

"You had better stay here two nights," said Dan.
"Don't let your husband know where you are just yet.
Here is money to pay for another night's lodging, and
enough to buy food besides. "

"God bless you, boy!" she said, gratefully. "But
for you I should have had to stay out all night. "

"Oh, no; some one would have taken you in."

DAN AS A GOOD SAMARITAN.

153

''You don't know this neighborhood; the police-
man would have found me, and taken me to the
station-house. For myself I care little; but my poor

babe, who is worse than fatherless " and she burst

into tears.

''Keep up your courage, madam. Brighter days
may be in store," said Dan, cheerfully.

"I will come and see you day after to-morrow,"
said Dan. "Good-night."

Our hero must not be awarded too great credit for
his generosity. He knew that Mr. Rogers would wil-
lingly defray all expenses connected with the discovery,
and that the money he had advanced to his unfor-
tunate companion would be repaid. Had it been
otherwise, however, his generous heart would have
prompted him to relieve the woman's suffering.

154

LAYING THE TRAIN,

CHAPTER XX.

LAYING THE TRAIN.

Very early the next morning Dan rang the bell at
Mr. Rogers' residence. -

''Can I see Mr. Rogers?" he asked.

"The master won't be up for an hour," said the
servant.

"Tell him Dan wishes to see him on business of
importance. "

The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't think he'll see you. He was up late last
night," she said.

"Never mind. Let him know I am here."

"It's very important you make yourself," said Susan,
crossly.

"I am a person of great importance," said Dan,
smiling. "Mr. Rogers will see me, you'll find."

Two minutes later Susan descended the stairs a little
bewildered.

"You're to walk into the parlor," she said. " Mas-
ter'll be down directly."

Dan did not have long to wait. Mr. Rogers came

LAYING THE 7 RAIN.

155

down stairs almost directly in dressing-gown and
slippers.

''Well, Dan, what is it?" he asked.

"The store is to be broken open to-night and the
safe robbed !" said Dan.

" Good heavens ! By whom .?"

"By two men living in Houston street — at least,
one lives there. "

" Have you any more to tell.'*"

"Yes, sir; they are employed by Mr. Talbot."

Mr. Rogers started.

"Are you sure of this?" he asked.

"Quite sure."
- "How did you find out?"

" Partly by accident, sir."

"Go on. Tell me all."

Dan rehearsed the story, already familiar to our
readers, combining with it some further information
he had drawn from the woman.

"I didn't think Talbot capable of this," said Mr.
Rogers. "He has been in our employ for ten years.
I don't like to think of his treachery, but, unhappily,
there is no reason to doubt it. Now, Dan, what is
your advice?"

"lam afraid my advice wouldn't be worth much,
Mr. Rogers," said Dan, modestly.

" I am not sure of that. lam indebted to you for

jr6 LAYING THE TRAIN,

this important discovery. You are keen and ready-
witted. I won't promise to follow your advice, but I
should like to hear it."

"Then, sir, I will ask you a question. Do you
want to prevent the robbery, or to catch the men in
the act?"

* ' I wish to catch the burglars in the act. "

"Then, sir, can you stay away from the store to-
day ?"

"Why.?"

"Your looks might betray your suspicions."

"There is something in that. But how can I take
measures to guard against loss ?"

"You can act through me, sir. Is there much
money in the safe?"

"No ; but Talbot is authorized to sign checks. He
will draw money if I am not at the store."

' ' Will he place it in the safe ?"

"Probably"

"Then let him do so. He is to tell the burglars
the combination. He will get it from the janitor."

"The scoundrel !"

"I will see the janitor, and ask him to give the
book-keeper the wrong word."

"What else.?"

"I will secretly notify the police, whom he will
admit and hide till the time comes,"

LAYING THE TRAIN, 1^7

''That is well planned."

"Then," continued Dan, flushing with excitement,
"we'll wait till the burglars come, and let them begin
work on the safe. While they are at work, we will
nab them. "

"You say we."

"Yes, sir; I want to be there. '^

" There may be danger."

"I'll risk it, sir."

' ' Dan, you are a brave boy. "

"I don't know about that, sir. But if anything is
going on to-night, I want to be in it."

"You shall, but be prudent. I don't want you to
be hurt."

"Thank you, sir. If Mr. Talbot sends me with a
large check to the bank, what shall I do .?"

"Take it."

"He may make off with the money during the
day."

"I will set another detective to watch him, and
have him arrested in that event."

"This is going to be an exciting day," said Dan to
himself, as he set out for the store,

rjS TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

CHAPTER XXL

TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

As Dan entered the store he noticed that Talbot
looked excited and nervous. Ordinarily the book-
keeper would have reprimanded him sharply for his
late arrival, but he was not disposed to be strict this
mornmg.

'Tm a little late this morning, Mr. Talbot," said
Dan.

**0h, well, you can be excused for once," said
Talbot.

He wished to disarm suspicion by extra good hu-
mor. Besides, he intended to send Dan to the bank
presently for a heavy sum, and thought it best to be
on friendly terms with him.

About ten o'clock a messenger entered the store
with a note from Mr. Rogers to the book-keeper. It
was to this effect :

" I am feeling rather out of sorts this morning, and shall not
come to the store. Should you desire to consult me on any
subject, send a messenger to my house."

Talbot read this note with great satisfaction. The

TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

159

only obstacle to carrying out his plans was the appre-
hended presence and vigilance of his employer. Now
he had a clear field.

About one o'clock he called Dan into the office.

"Here, Dan/" he said, "I want you to go to the
bank at once."

*'Yes, sir."

' '■ Here is a check for twelve thousand dollars —
rather a heavy amount — and you must be ver}" careful
not to lose any of it, or to let any one see that you
have so much with you. Do you understand.?"

*' Yes, sir. In what denominations shall I get the
money V

"You may get one hundred dollars in fives and
tens, and the remainder in large bills."
"All right, sir."

" He means to make a big haul," said Dan to him-
self, as he left the store. "I hope our plans won't
miscarry. I wouldn't like Mr. Rogers to lose so large
a sum."

As Dan left the store a man of middle size, who was
lounging against a lamp-post, eyed him sharply. As
Dan was turning the corner of the street he left his
post, and, walking rapidly, overtook him.

"Where are you going .^'' he asked.

"What is that to you.?" demanded Dan.

l6o TWEIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

"You are in the employ of Barton & Rogers, are
you not?"

''Yes, sir."

" Is your name Dan?"

•'Yes, sir."

"I am a detective, on watch here by order of Mr.
Rogers. Now will you answer my question ?"

"Certainly. I am going to the bank."

' ' To draw money ?"

"Yes, sir."

" How much?"

"Twelve thousand dollars."

"Whew ! That is a big sum. Who sent you?"
. "Mr. Talbot."

" He is the book-keeper, is he not?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will walk along with you. There is no need of
watching till you bring back the money. Where do
you think Talbot will put the money?"

"In the safe, I think, sir."

"I am not sure of that. I believe he will retain
the greater part on his own person. If the men who
are to rob the safe got hold of all the money they
would be likely to keep it, and not limit themselves to
the sum he agrees to pay them."

"I suppose you are right, sir. What, then, are we
to do?" asked Dan, perplexed.

TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS. i6i

"I shall take care to keep Talbot in view. He
doesn't propose to run away. He means to have it
understood that all this money has been taken by the
burglars, whereas but a tithe of the sum will be de-
posited in the safe."

Dan nodded assent. He was convinced that the de-
tective was right. Still he was anxious.

"It seems to me there is a risk of losing the
money/' he said.

The detective smiled.

"Don't be afraid/' he said, confidentially. "Tal-
bot won't leave the city. I will take care of that."

His words inspired confidence, and Dan entered the
bank without misgivings.

The check was so large that the bank officials scru-
tinized it carefully. There was no doubt about its be-
ing correct, however.

"How will you have it.?" was asked.

Dan answered as he had been directed.

"Be very careful, young man," said the disbursing
clerk. "You've got too much to lose."
"All right, sir."

Dan deposited one roll of bills in the left inside
pocket of his coat, and the balance in the right
pocket, and then buttoned up the coat.

"I'm a boy of fortune for a short time/' he said to

1 62 TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

himself. "I hope the time will come when I shall
have as much money of my own."

Dan observed that the detective followed him at
a little distance, and it gave him a feeling of security.
Some one might have seen the large sum of money
paid him, and instances had been Vnown where bo}S
in such circumstances had suddenly been set upon in
the open street at midday and robbed. He felt that
he had a friend near at hand who would interfere in
such a case.

''What time is it, boy.?" asked an ill-looking man,
suddenly accosting him.

" Half-past one."

*' Look at your watch.''

*'I don't carry one/' said Dan, eying the questioner
suspiciously.

''Nor I. I have been very unfortunate. Can't you
give me a quarter to buy me some dinner.?"

"Ask some one else; I'm in a hurry/' said Dan,
coldly.

The man went away muttering.

* ' I'm not as green as you take me for, " said Dan to
himself.

He thought his danger was-i^ver, but he was mis-
taken.

Suddenly a large man, with red hair and beard,

TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS. 163

emerging from Dan knew not where, laid his hand on
his shoulder.

Dan turned in surprise.

"Boy," said he, in a fierce undertone, ''give me
that money you have in your coat-pocket, or I will
brain you."

* * You forget we are in the public street, " said Dan.

''No, I don't."

"You would be arrested."

"And you would be — stunned, perhaps killed!"
hissed the man. "Look here, boy, I am a desperate
man. I know how much money you have with you.
Give me half, and go."

Dan looked out of the corner of his eye, to see the
detective close at hand. This gave him courage, for
he recognized that the villain was only speaking the
truth, and he did not wish to run any unnecessary
risk. He gave a nod, which brought the detective
nearer, and then slipped to one side, calling :

"Stop thief!"

The ruffian made a dash for him, his face distorted
with rage, but his arm was grasped as by an iron vise.

"Not so fast, Jack Benton!" exclaimed the de-
tective, and he signaled to a policemxan. "You are
up to your old tricks again, as I expected."

"Who are you.?" demanded Jack, angrily.

"A detective "

1 64 TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

''The devil!" ejaculated the foiled burglar, ''I
have taken nothing/' he added, sullenly.

''That isn't your fault. I heard you threatening the
boy, unless he gave up the money in his possession.
Take him away, officer. I will appear against him."

"Thank you, sir," said Dan, gratefully.

"All right. Go on as quickly as possible. I will
keep you in view."

All this took a little time.

Talbot, whose conscience was uneasy, and with
good cause, awaited Dan's arrival very anxiously.

"What made you so long.'*" he asked.

"A man tried to rob me."

"Did he succeed.^" asked Talbot, quickly.

"No; he was recognized by a policeman, who
arrested him as he was on the point of attacking
me."

Talbot asked no further questions, considerably to
Dan's relief, for he did not wish to mention the de-
tective if it could be avoided.

The book-keeper contented himself with saying, in
a preoccupied tone, as he received the money :

"You can't be ^oo careful when you have much
money about you. I am almost sorr}^ I sent for this
money," he proceeded. "I don't think I shall need
to use it to-day."

fc-.—

TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS. 165

''bshall I take it back to the bank, sir?" asked
Dan.

"No; I shall put it in the safe over night. I don't
care to risk you or the money again to-day. "

''That's a blind," thought Dan. '' He won't put it
in the safe. "

1 66 TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS.

CHAPTER XXII.

TALBOT S SCHEME FAILS.

Talbot went into the office where he was alone.
But the partition walls were of glass, and Dan man-
aged to put himself in a position where he could see
all that passed within.

The book-keeper opened the package of bills, and
divided them into two parcels. One he replaced in
the original paper and labeled it ''|i 2,000."

The other he put into another paper, and put into
his own pocket. Dan saw it all, but could not dis-
tinguish the denominations of the bills assigned to the
different packages He had no doubt, however, that
the smaller bills were placed in the package intended
to be deposited in the safe, so that, though of appa-
rently equal value, it really contained only about one-
tenth of the money drawn from the bank.

Talbot was not conscious of observation. Indeed,
he was not observed, except by Dan, whose business it
was to watch him.

The division being made, he opened the safe and
placed the package therein.

TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS. 167

*'Not quite smart enough, Mr. Talbot," thought
Dan. " Vou will need more watching."

He was anxious to communicate his discovery to
the detective outside, but for some time had no op-
portunity.

About an hour later he was sent out on an errand.
He looked about him in a guarded manner till he at-
tracted the attention of the outside detective. The
latter, in answer to a slight nod, approached him care-
lessly.

"Well," he asked, "have you any news.?"

"Yes," answered Dan. "Mr. Talbot has divided
the money into two packages, and one of them he has
put into his own pocket. '

"What has he done with the other?"

"Put it into the safe."

"As I expected. He means to appropriate the
greater part to his own use. "

"Is there anything more for me to do.?" asked Dan.

"I don't know. Keep your eyes open. Does the
book-keeper suspect that he is watched ?"

"I am siire that he doesn't."

"That is well."

"I am afraid he will get away with the money," said
Dan, anxiously.

"I am not. Do you know whether there's any wo-
man in the case?"

:68 TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS.

"He visits a young lady on Lexington avenue."

"Do you know the number?"

"No."

"That is important. It is probably on her account
that he wishes to become suddenly rich."

This supposition was a correct one, as we know. It
did not, however, argue unusual shrewdness on the
part of the detective, since no motive is more com-
mon in such cases.

Dan returned to the office promptly, and nothing
of importance occurred during the remainder of the
day.

When Mr. Talbot was preparing to leave, he called
in the janitor.

"You may lock the safe," he said.

"Very well, sir."

"By the way, you may use the word 'Hartford' for
the combination. "

"Very well, sir."

"Be particularly careful, as the safe contains a pack-
age of money — twelve thousand dollars."

"Wouldn't it have been better to deposit it in the
bank, Mr. Talbot.?"

"Yes, but it was not till the bank closed that I de-
cided not to use it to-day. However, it is secure in
the safe, " he added, carelessly.

"I have no doubt of that, Mr. Talbot."

TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS, 169

Mr. Talbot put on his coat and departed.

In turning a street corner, he brushed against a
rough-looking man who was leaning against a lamp-
post.

''I beg your pardon," said the book-keeper, po-
litely.

''What did you say.?" growled Bill.

"Hartford," said Talbot, in a low tone.

"All right, sir. If you apologize it's all correct."

"They've got the word," said Talbot to himself.
"Now the responsibility rests with them. Now I will
go and see Virginia."

His face flushed, and his eyes lighted up with joy,
as he uttered her name. He was deeply in love, and
he felt that at last he was in a position to win the con-
sent of the object of his passion. He knew, or, rather,
he suspected her to be coldly selfish, but he was infat-
uated. It was enough that he had fulfilled the condi-
tions imposed upon him. In a few days he would be
on his way to Europe with the lady of his love. Mat-
ters were so arranged that the loss of the twelve thou-
sand dollars would be credited to the burglars. He
would escape suspicion. If his European journey
should excite a shadow of suspicion, nothing could
be proved, and he could represent that he had been
lucky in stock speculations, as even now he intended
to represent to Miss Conway.

170

TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS.

He was not afraid that she would be deeply shocked
by his method of obtaining money, but he felt that it
would be better not to trust her with a secret, which,
if divulged, would compromise his safety.

"Is Miss Conway at home?" he inquired.

Yes, Miss Conway was at home, and she soon en-
tered the room, smiling upon him inquirir^ly.

''Well," she said, "have you any news to tell me?"

"Virginia^ are you ready to fulfill your promise?"
asked Talbot, eagerly.

"What promise?"

"You know, surely."

"I make so many promises, you know," she said,
fencing.

"Your promise to marry me."

"But there were conditions to that."

"Suppose that the conditions are fulfilled, Vir-
ginia ?"

"Do you really mean so?" she asked, betraying
strong interest now. "Have you been lucky in
stocks ?"

"I took your advice, Virginia. I dared everything,
and I have succeeded."

"As you might have done before, had you listened
to me. How much did you make?"

"Ten thousand dollars — the amount you required."

The girl's eyes sparkled.

TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS.

I/I

*'And you will take me to Europe?" she said.
"We will make the grand tour?"

"As soon as you please."

"Then you deserve a reward."

She stooped and pressed a kiss lightly upon his
cheek.

It was a mercenary kiss, but he was so much in
love that he felt repaid for the wrong and wickedness
he had done. It would not always be so, even if he
should never be detected, but for the moment he was
happy.

"Now let us form our plans," he said. "Will you
marry me to-morrow evening?"

"But that gives me no time."

"You need no time. We will call on a clergyman,
quietly, to-morrow evening, and in fifteen minutes we
shall be man and wife. On Saturday a steamer leaves
for Europe. We will start then. "

"Oh, that will be nice. I can hardly believe that I
shall so soon realize the dreams of years. I want to
go to Paris first. "

"Anywhere you please. Your wish shall be my
law."

"How can you be spared from your business?"
asked Virginia, after a pause.

"I will plead ill health — anything. There will be
no difficulty about that"

17^ TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS.

"Shall I tell my aunt?"

''No ; not till you are almost ready to start"

''Why not?"

"It is better that there should be no gossip about
it. Besides, your aunt would probably be scandalized
by our hasty marriage, and insist upon delay. That's
something we should neither of us be willing to con-
sent to."

"No, for it would interfere with our European
trip."

"You consent, then, to my plans?"

"Yes; I will give you your own way this time,"
said Virginia, smiling.

"And you will insist on having your own way ever
after?"

' ' Of course, " she said ; ' ' isn't that right ?"

"I am afraid I must consent, at any rate; but,
since you are to rule, you must not be a tyrant, my
darling. "

Talbot agreed to stay to dinner; indeed, it had been
his intention from the first. He remained till the city
clocks struck eleven, and then took leave of Miss Con-
way at the door.

He set out for his boarding-place, his mind filled
with thoughts of his coming happiness, when a hand
was laid on his arm.

TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS.

^73

He wheeled suddenly, and his glance fell on a quiet
man — the detective.

"What's wanted?" he asked, not dreaming of the
truth.

"You must come with me, Mr. Talbot," was the
reply. "You are suspected of robbing the firm that
employs you. "

"This i? absurd nonsense!" exclaimed Talbot,
putting on a bold face, though his heart sank with-
in him.

"I hope so; but you must accompany me, and sub-
mit to a search. If my suspicions are unfounded, I
will apologize."

" Hands off, fellow! I believe you intend to rob
me. I will give you into custody. "

The detective put a whistle to his mouth, and his
summons brought a policeman.

"Take this man into custody," he said.

"This is an outrage!" exclaimed Talbot; but he
was very pale.

"You will be searched at the station-house, Mr.
Talbot," said the detective. "I hope nothing will be
found to criminate you. If not, you shall go free."

Talbot, with a swift motion, drew something from
his pocket, and hurled it into the darkness. But he
was observed.

The detective darted after it, and brought it back.

174 TALBOT'S SCHEME FAILS.

''This is what I wanted/' he said. ''Policeman,
you will bear witness that it was in Mr. Talbot's pos-
session. I fear we shall have to detain you a consider-
able time, sir. "

Talbot did not utter a word. Fate had turned
against him, and he was sullen and desperate.

"Plow did they suspect.?" he asked himself; but no
answer jiuggested itself.

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM. 17^-

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM.

In the house on Houston street, Bill wasted little
regret on the absence of his wife and child. Neither
did he trouble himself to speculate as to where she
had gone.

^Tm better without her/' he said to his confeder-
ate, Mike. ''She's always a-whinin' and complainin',
Nance is. It makes me sick to see her. If I speak a
rough word to her, and it stands to reason a chap can't
always be soft-spoken, she begins to cry. I like to see
a woman have some spirit, I do."

"They may have too much," said Mike, shrugging
his shoulders. ''My missus ain't much like yours.
She don't cry, she don't. If I speak rough to her,
she ups with something and flings it at my head.
That's her style. "

"And what do you do.?" asked Bill, in some
curiosity.

"Oh, I just leave her to get over it ; that's the best
waj."

"Is it.?" said Bill, grimly. "Why, you're not half

176 THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM.

a man, you ain't. Do you want to know what I'd do
if a woman raised her hand against me?''

"Well, what would you do?"

'Td beat her till she couldn't see!" said Bill,
fiercely; and he looked as if he was quite capable
of it.

* ' I don't know, " said Mike. * ' You haven't got a
wife like mine."

*' I just wish I had. I'd tame her."

"She ain't easy to tame."

"Just you take me round there some time, Mike.
If she has a tantrum, turn her over to me."

Mike did not answer. He was not as great a
ruffian as Bill, and the proposal did not strike him
favorably.

His wife was certainly a virago, and though strong
above the average, he was her superior in physical
strength, but something hindered him from using it
to subdue her. So he was often overmatched by the
shrill-voiced vixen, who knew very well that he would
not proceed to extremities. Had she been Bill's wife,
she would have had to yield, or there would have been
bloodshed.

"I say. Bill," said Mike, suddenly, "how much did
your wife hear of our plans last night?"

"Nothing."

"She might."

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM.

177

*'If she had she would not dare to say a word/'
said Bill, carelessly.

' ' You don't know. Women like to use their
tongues."

"She knows I'd kill her if she betrayed me," said
Bill. "There ain't no use considerin' that."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. It would be awk-
ward if the police got wind of it."

"They won't."

"What do you think of that chap that's puttin' us
up to it.?"

" I don't like him, but I like his money."

"Five hundred dollars a-piece ain't much for the
risk we run. "

"We'll have more."

"How.?"

"If we don't find more in the safe, we'll bleed him
when all's over. He'll be in our power."

"Well, Bill, you know best. You've got a better
head nor me."

"And a stouter heart, man. You're always afeared
of something."

It was true that Bill was the leading spirit. He was
■reckless and desperate, while Mike was apt to count
the cost, and dwell upon the danger incurred.

They had been associated more than once in un-
lawful undertakings; and though both had served a

lyS THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM.

short term of imprisonment, they had in general
escaped scot-free.

It was Bill who hung round the store, and who
received from Talbot at the close of the afternoon the
"combination," which was to make the opening of
the safe comparatively easy. "

"It's a good thing to have a friend inside," he said
to his confederate. "Our money is as good as
made."

"There'll be the janitor to dispose of," suggested

Mike.

- "Leave him. to me. I'll knock him on the head."

"Don't kill him if you can help it, Bill. Murder
has an ugly look, and they'll look out twice as sharp
for a murderer as for a burglar. Besides, swingin'
ain't pleasant."

"Never you mind. I'll only stun him a little. He
can wake up when we're gone, but we'll tie him so he
can't give the alarm. "

" How cool you take things, Bill !"

"Do \} Well, it's my business. You just leave
everything to me. Obey orders, and I'll bring you
out all right."

So the day passed, and darkness came on. It was
the calm before the storm.

OLD JACK, THE JANITOR. 179

CHAPTER XXIV.

OLD JACK, THE JANITOR.

The janitor, or watchman, was a sturdy old man,
who in early life had been a sailor. Some accident
had made him lame, and this incapacitated him for
his early vocation. It had not, however, impaired his
physical strength, which was very great, and Mr. Rogers
was glad to employ him in his present capacity. Of
his fidelity there was no question.

When Jack Green — Jack was the name he gener-
ally went by — heard of the contemplated burglary, he
was excited and pleased. It was becoming rather
tame to him to watch night after night without inter-
ruption, and he fancied he should like a little scrim-
mage. He even wanted to withstand the burglars
single-handed.

"What's the use of callin' in the police.?'' he urged,
"It's only two men, and old Jack is a match for
two. "

"You're a strong man, Jack," said Dan, "but one
of the burglars is as strong as you are. I have seen
him, you know. He's broad-shouldered and big-
chested. "

l8o OLD JACK, THE JANITOR.

"I ain't afraid of him," said Jack, defiantly.

"Perhaps not, but there's another man, too. You
couldn't overcome both."

"I don't know about that."

But Jack finally yielded, though reluctantly, and
three policemen were admitted about eight o'clock,
and carefully secreted, to act when necessary. Jack
pleaded for the privilege of meeting the burglars first,
and the privilege, was granted, partly in order that they
might be taken in the act. Old Jack was instructed
how to act, and though it was a part not wholly in
accordance with his fearless spirit, he finally agreed to
do as he was told.

It is not necessary to explain how the burglars
effected their entrance. This was effected about twelve
o'clock, and by the light of a dark-lantern Bill and
Mike advanced cautiously toward the safe.

At this point old Jack made his appearance, putting
on an air of alarm and dismay.

"Who are you .?" he demanded, in a tone which he
partially succeeded in making tremulous.

Bill took up the reply.
"Are you the janitor?" he asked.
"Yes, gentlemen. What do you want.?"
"Keep quiet, and we will do you no harm. We
want you to open the safe. "

OLD JACK, THE yANlTOR. jgi

''I can't do that, gentlemen. I can't betray my
trust. "

*'A11 right; I'll do it myself. Give us the key.
What's the combination.?"

''Hartford."

Bill glanced at Mike significantly. The word agreed
with the information they had received from Talbot.
It served to convince them that the janitor had indeed
succumbed, and could be relied upon. There was no
suspicion in the mind of either that there was any one
else in the establishment, and they felt moderately
secure from interruption.

"Here, old fellow, hold the lantern while we go to
work. Just behave yourself, and we'll give you ten
dollars — shall we, Mike.?"

* ' Yes, " answered Mike ; ' ' I'm agreed. "

''It'll look as if I was helpin' to rob my master,"
objected Jack.

"Oh, never mind about that; he won't know it.
When all is over we'll tie you up, so that it will
look as if you couldn't help yourself. What do you
say r

Jack felt like making a violent assault upon the
man wlio was offering him a bribe, but he controlled
his impulse, and answered :

"I'm a poor man, and ten dollars will come
handy."

1 82 OLD JACK THE JANITOR.

"All right/' said Bill, convinced by this time
that Jack's fidelity was very cheaply purchased. He
plumed himself on his success in converting the
janitor into an ally, and felt that the way was clear
before him.

' "Mike, give the lantern to this old man, and come
here and help me. "

Old Jack took the lantern, laughing in his sleeve
at the ease with which he had gulled the burglars,
while they kneeled before the safe.

It was then that, looking over his shoulder, he
noticed the stealthy approach of the policemen, ac-
companied by Dan. He could content himself no
longer. Setting down the lantern, he sprang upon
the back of Bill as he was crouching before him, ex-
claiming :

' * Now, you Tillain, I have you !"

THE BURGLARY, 1S3

CHAPTER XXV.

THI BURGLARY.

The attack was so sudden and unexpected that Bill,
powerful as he was, was prostrated, and for an instant
interposed no resistance. But this was not for long.

"You'll repent this, you old idiot!" he hissed be-
tween his closed teeth, and, in spite of old Jack's
efforts to keep him down, he forced his way up.

At the same moment Mike, who had been mo-
mentarily dazed by the sudden attack, seized the jani-
tor, and, between them both, old Jack's life was likely
to be of a very brief tenure. But here the reinforce-
ments appeared, and changed the aspect of the battle.

One burly policeman seized Bill by the collar, while
Mike was taken in hand by another, and their heavy
clubs fell with merciless force on the heads of the two
captives.

In the new surprise Jack found himself a free man,
and, holding up the lantern, cried, exultingly :

*'If I am an old idiot, I've got the better of you,
you scoundrels ! You'll open the safe, will you.?"

Bill looked about him doggedly. It was hard for
him to give in, but the fight was too unequal.

I §4 'r^E BURGLARY.

''Mike/' said he, "this is a plant. I wish I had
that cursed book-keeper here; he led us into this."

** Is it Mr. Talbot you mean?" asked the janitor.

•'Yes/' answered Bill; ''he put us up to this.
Curse him !"

"No need to curse him/' said Jack, dryly; "he
meant you to succeed."

"Didn't he tell you we were coming to-night.?"

"Not he."

"How did you find it out, then?" asked Bill,
quickly.

"Not through him. He was watched, for we sus-
pected him. What did he promise you?"

"Five hundred dollars apiece/'

"Was that all?"

"It wasn't enough; but we should have got more
out of him.''

"Before you go away with your prisoners," said
Jack to the policeman, "I wish to open the safe
before you, to see if I am right in my suspicions. Mr.
Talbot drew over ten thousand dollars from the bank
to-day, and led us to think that he deposited it in the
safe, I wish to ascertain, in the presence of witnesses,
how much he placed there, and how much he carried
away. "

"Go ahead," said the oldest policeman.

The janitor proceeded to open the safe.

THE BURGLARY.

185

**Did we have the right combination?" asked Bill.

''No."

"That cursed book-keeper deceived us, then."

''You are mistaken. He was himself deceived. I
gave him the wrong word."

"Curse you, then !" said Bill, savagely.

"Suit yourself, Mr. Burglar/' said old Jack, indif-
ferently. "There's an old saying, 'Curses, like chick-
ens, still come home to roost' Your cursing won't
hurt me any. "

"If my curses don't my fists may!" retorted Bill,
with a malignant look.

"You won't have a chance to carry out your threats
for some years to come, if you get your deserts," said
Jack, by no means terrified. "I've only dene my
duty, and I'm ready to do it again whenever needed."

By this time the safe was open ; all present saw the
envelope of money labeled "|i 2,000."

The two burglars saw the prize which was to have
rewarded their efforts and risk with a tantalizing sense
of defeat. They had been so near success, only to be
foiled at last, and consigned to a jail for a term of
years.

"Curse the luck !" muttered Bill, bitterly, and in his
heart Mike said amen.

"Gentlemen, I will count this money before you,"
said the janitor, as he opened the parcel.

1 86 THE BURGLARY.

The count was quickly accomplished. It resulted,
as my readers already know, in the discovery that, in
place of twelve thousand, the parcel contained but one
thousand dollars.

** Eleven thousand dollars short!" said Jack.
"Gentlemen, will you take notice of this.? Of
course it is clear where the rest is gone — Talbot
carried it away with him."

''Where is he.?" inquired one of the policemen.
" He ought to be pursued. "

" By this time he is in custody," said Jack.
"Look here, old man, who engineered this thing.?"
demanded Bill.

"Come here, Dan," said Jack, summoning our
hero, who modestly stood in the background. " INIr.
Burglar, this boy is entitled to the credit of defeating
you. We should have known nothing of your inten-
tions but for Dan, the Detective. "

"He!" said Bill, scornfully. "Why, I could crush
him with one hand."

"Force is a good thing, but brains are better," said
Jack. "Dan here has got a better Lead-piece than any
of us."

"You've done yourself credit, boy," said the chief
policeman. "When I have a difficult case I'll send
for you. "

THE BURGLARY. 187

''You are giving me more credit than I deserve,"
said Dan, modestly.

"If I ever get out of jail, I'll remember you/' said
Bill, scowling. ''I wouldn't have minded so much if
it had been a man, but to be laid by the heels by
a boy like you — that's enough to make me sick."

''You've said enough, my man," said the police-
man who had him in charge. "Come along, will
you.?"

The two prisoners, escorted by their captors, made
their unwilling way to the station-house. They were
duly tried, and were sentenced to a ten years' term of
imprisonment.

As for Talbot, he tried to have it believed that he
took the money found on him because he distrusted
the honesty of the janitor; but this statement fell to
the ground before Dan's testimony and that of Bill's
wife.

He, too, received a heavy sentence, and it was felt
that he only got his just deserts.

-^ if. if. -^ ^ -if. if.

On the morning after the events recorded above,
Mr. Rogers called Dan into the counting-room.

" Dan," he said, " I wish to express to you my per-
sonal obligations for the admirable manner in which
you have managed the affair of this burglary,"

"Thank you, sir," said Dan.

1 88 THE BURGLARY.

"I am convinced that but for you I should have
lost twelve thousand dollars. It would not have
ruined me, to be sure, but it would have been a heavy
loss."

''Such a loss as that would have ruined me," said
Dan, smiling.

"So I should suppose," assented his employer. "I
predict, however, that the time will come when you
can stand such a loss, and have something left. "

"I hope so, sir."

'•'As there must always be a beginning, suppose you
begin with that."

Mr. Rogers had turned to his desk and written a
check, which he handed to Dan.

This was the way it read :

^'o- 375-

PARK NATIONAL BANK.

Pay to Dan Mordaunt or order One Thousand Dollars.

($i,ooo.) Barton & Rogers.

Dan took the check, supposing it might be for
twenty dollars or so. When he saw the amount, he
started in excitement and incredulity.

"One thousand dollars!" he repeated, in bewilder-
ment.

' ' Yes, " said Mr. Rogers, smiling. " It is a large
sum for a boy like you, Dan. I hope you will invest
it wisely,"

THE BURGLARY.

189

*'But, sir, you don't mean all this for me?" said
Dan.

"Indeed I do. It is less than ten per cent on the
money you have saved for us. "

'' How can I thank you for your kindness, sir .^" said
Dan, gratefully.

" By continuing to serve us faithfully. By the way,
what wages do we pay you V

*'Six dollars a week."

'*It is too little. From this time you will draw ten
dollars."

"You have made me rich, Mr. Rogers," said Dan,
gratefully.

"It is a little better than selling papers in front of
the Astor House, isn't it, Dan.?"

"A good deal, sir."

"I hope you will continue to prosper. Now, Dan,
let me give you two pieces of advice."

"I wish you would, sir."

"First, put this money in a good savings-bank, and
don't draw upon it unless you are obliged to. Let it
be a nest-egg."

"I mean to do that, sir."

"And next, spend a part of your earnings in im-
proving your education. You have already had un-
usual advantages for a boy of your age, but you

I go THE BURGLARY.

should still be learning. It may help you, in a busi-
ness point of view, to understand book-keeping. "

''I will learn it, sir."

Dan not only did this, but resumed the study of
both French and German, of which he had some
elementary knowledge, and advanced rapidly in all.

DAN LEARNS TO DANCE.

191

CHAPTER XXVI.

DAN LEARNS TO DANCE.

Several months passed without any incidents worth
recording.

Punctually every month Dan received a remittance
of sixty dollars through a foreign banker, whose office
was near Wall street.

Of this sum it may be remembered that ten dollars
were to be appropriated to Althea's dress.

Of the little girl it may be said she was very happy
in her new home. She formed a strong attachment
for Mrs. Mordaunt, whom she called mamma^ while
she always looked forward with delight to Dan's return
at night.

Mrs. Mordaunt was very happy in the child's com-
panionship, and found the task of teaching her very
congenial.

But for the little girl she would have had many
lonely hours, since Dan was absent all day on busi-
ness.

''I don't know what I shall do, Althea, when you
go to school," she said one day.

iQ2 DAN LEARNS TO DANCE.

''\ don't want to go to school. Let me 5tay at
home with you, mamma. "

*'For the present I can teach you, my dear, but the
time will come when for your own good it will be bet-
ter to go to school I cannot teach you as well as the
teachers you will find there. "

''You know ever so much, mamma. Don't you
know everything .?"

Mrs. Mordaunt smiled.

''Compared with you, my dear, I seem to know a
great deal, but there are others who know much
more."

Althea was too young as yet, however, to attend
school, and the happy home life continued.

Mrs. Mordaunt and Dan often wondered how long
their m.ysterious ward was to remain with them. Had
she a mother living.? If so, how could that mother
voluntarily forego her child's society }

These were questions they sometimes asked them-
selves, but no answer suggested itself. They were con-
tent to have them remain unanswered, so long as Al-
thea might remain with them.

The increase of Dan's income, and the large sum
he had on interest, would have enabled them to live
comfortably even without the provision made for their
young ward.

DAN LEARNS TO DANCE. 1Q3

As it was they could do better. Dan felt himself
justified in indulging in a little extravagance.

"Mother," said he, one evening, "I am thinking
of taking a course of lessons in dancing. "

'•'What has put that into your head, Dan.?"

"Julia Rogers is to have a birthday party in two
or three months, and I think from a hint her father
dropped to-day I shall have an invitation. I shall
feel awkvrard if I don't know how to dance. Be-
sides "

Here Dan hesitated.

"Well, Dan, what besides.?"

"Torn Carver will be sure to be there, and if I
don't dance, or if I am awkward, he will be sure to
sneer at me."

"Will that make you feel bad, Dan.?"

"Not exactly, but I don"t want to appear at disad-
vantage when he is around. If I have been a news-
boy, I want to show that I can take the part of gentle-
man as well as he. "

"Does the ability to dance make a gentleman,
Dan.?"

"No, mother, but I should feel awkward without it.
I don't want to be a wall-flower. What do you say to
my plan, mother.?"

"Carry it out by all means, Dan. There is no rea-
son why you shouldn't hold up your head with any of

1^4 DAN LEARNS TO DANCE.

them," and Mrs. Mordaunt's eyes rested with pride
on the handsome face and manly expression of her
son.

"You are a little prejudiced in my favor, mother,"
said Dan, smiling. "If I were as awkward as a cat
in a strange garret, you wouldn't see it."

"I am not quite blind, Dan."

Dan accordingly decided to take lessons in dancing.
He selected a fashionable teacher, although the price
was high, for he thought it might secure him desirable
acquaintances, purchased a handsome suit of clothes,
and soon became ver}^ miUch interested in the lessons.
He had a quick ear, a good figure, and a natural grace
of movement, which soon made him noticeable in the
class, and he was quite in demand among the young
ladies as a partner.

He was no less a favorite socially, being agreeable
as well as good-looking.

"Mr. Mordaunt,'' said the professor, "I wish all
my scholars did me as much credit as you do. You
dance beautifully,"

"Thank you, sir," said Dan, modestly, but he felt
gratified.

By the time the invitation came Dan had no fears as
to acquitting himself creditably.

"I hope Tom Carver will be there," he said to his
mother, as he was dressing for the party.

IN THE DRESSING-ROOM.

195

CHAPTER XXVII.

IN THE DRESSING-ROOM.

Mr, Rogers lived in a handsome brown-stone-front
house up town.

As Dan approached, he saw the entire house bril-
liantly lighted. He passed beneath a canopy, over
carpeted steps, to the front door, and rang the bell.

The door was opened by a stylish-looking colored
man, whose grand air showed that he felt the import-
ance and dignity of his position.

As Dan passed in he said :

** Gentlemen's dressing-room third floor back."

With a single glance through the open door at the
lighted parlors, where several guests were already
assembled, Dan followed directions, and went up
stairs.

Entering the dressing-room, he saw a boy carefully
arranging his hair before the glass.

' ' That's my friend, Tom Carver, " said Dan to
himself.

Tom was so busily engaged at his toilet that he
didn't at once look at the new guest. When he had

j^O J^ '^^E DRESSING-ROOM.

leisure to look up, he seemed surprised, and remarked,
superciliously :

"I didn't expect to see j'^z^ here."

"Why not?" demanded Dan, who understood his
meaning.

''Are you engaged to look after this room.? If so,
just brush me."

•''With all my heart, if you'll brush me," answered
Dan, partly offended and partly amused.

"What do you mean?" demanded Tom, haughtily.

"Just what I say. One good turn deserves an-
other. "

"Our positions are rather different, I think."

"How so? You are a guest of Miss Rogers, and
so am I."

"You don't mean to say that you are going down
into the parlor ?"

"Why not?"

" A boy who sells papers in front of the Astor House
is not a suitable guest at a fashionable party. "

"That is not your affair," said Dan, coldly. " But
it is not true that I sell papers anywhere."

"Oh, I forgot. You're a shop-boy now. You used
to sell papers, though. "

"And I will again, if necessary," answered Dan, as
he took Tom's place in front of the glass and began
to arrange his toilet.

IN THE DRESSING-ROOM.

197

Then, for the first time, Tom took notice that Dan
was dressed as well as himself, in a style with which
the most captious critic could not find fault. Tom
was both surprised and disappointed. He would have
liked to see Dan in awkward, ill-fitting, or shabby
clothes. It seemed to him that an ex-newsboy had no
right to dress so well, and he was greatly puzzled to
understand how he could afford it.

''Where did you borrow those clothes.?" he asked,
impudently.

''Where did you borrow yours.?" retorted Dan.

"Don't be saucy,"

"You set me the example."

"It is not remarkable that I should be well dressed.
I can afford it."

"So can I," answered Dan, laconically.

" Do you mean to say that you bought that suit and
paid for it .?"

"I- do.''

"It must have taken all your money."

"You are very kind to take so much interest in me.
It may relieve your mind to see this."

Dan took a roll of bills from his pocket, and dis-
played them to the astonished Tom.

"I don't see where you got so much money," said
Tom, mystified.

"I've got more in the bank," said Dan. "I men-

198

IN THE DRESSING-ROOM.

tion it to you that you needn't feel bad about my ex-
travagance in buying a party suit."

"I wouldn't have come to this party if I had been
you," said Tom, changing his tone.

''Why not.?"

"You'll be so awkward, you know. You don't
know any one except Miss Rogers, who, of course,
invited you out of pity, not expecting you would
accept. "

''Did she tell you so?" asked Dan, smiling.

"No, but it stands to reason."

"You forget I know you," said Dan, smiling again.

"I beg you won't presume upon our former slight
acquaintance," said Tom, hastily. "I shall be so
busily occupied that I really can't give you any at-
tention."

"Then 1 must shift for myself, I suppose," said
Dan, good-humoredly. "Shall we go down.?"

"Go first, if you like," said Tom, superciliously.
"I will follow directly."

"He doesn't want to go down with me," thought
Dan. ""Perhaps I shall surprise him a little;" and he
made his way down stairs.

DAN AT THE PARTY.

J 99

CHAPTER XXVIII.

DAN AT THE PARTY.

As Dan entered the parlors he saw the young lady
in whose honor the party was given only a few feet dis-
tant.

He advanced with perfect ease, and paid his re-
spects.

"I am very glad to see you here this evening, Mr.
Mordaunt," said Julia, cordially.

''What a handsome boy he is !'' she thought. ''I
had no idea he would look so well."

Mentally she pronounced him the handsomest young
gentleman present.

''Take your partners for a quadrille, young gentle-
men," announced the master of ceremonies,

"Are you engaged, Miss Rogers?" asked Dan.

" Not as yet/' answered the young lady, smiling.

"Then may I have the honor.?"

"Certainly."

So it happened that as Tom Carver entered the
room, he beheld, to his intense surprise and dis-
gust, Dan leading the young hostess to her place in
the quadrille.

200 DAN AT THE PARTY.

*'What a cheek that fellow has !'' said Tom to him-
self. '*I suppose he never attempted to dance in his
life. It will be fun to watch his awkwardness. I am
very much surprised that Julia should condescend to
dance with him — a common newsboy."

At first Tom thought he wouldn't dance, but Mrs.

Rogers approaching said :

''Tom, there's Jane Sheldon. She has no partner.''
Accordingly Tom found himself leading up a litt'e

girl of eight.

There was no place except in the quadrille in which
Dan and Julia Rogers were to dance. Tom found
himself one of the "sides."

"Good-evening, Julia," he said, catching the eye
of Miss Rogers.

"Good-evening, Tom. You are late."

*'I am too late to be your partner."

"Yes, but you see I am not left a wall-flower," said
the young lady, smiling. "Mr. Mordaunt kindly re-
lieved me of that apprehension. "

"You are fortunate," said Tom, sneering.

"I leave my partner to thank you for that compli-
ment," said Julia, determined not to gratify Tom by
appearing to understand the sneer.

"There's no occasion," said Tom, rudely.

"I am glad of it," said Dan, "for I am so unused

DA^r AT THE PARTY. 20 1

to compliments that I am afraid I should answer awk-
wardly. "

''I can very well believe that," returned Tom, sig-
nificantly.

Julia did not smile. She looked offended rather for
she felt that rudeness to her partner reflected upon her-
self.

But here the music struck up, and the quadrille be-
gan.

"Now for awkwardness," said Tom to himself, and
he watched Dan closely.

But, to his surprise, nothing could be neater or bet-
ter modulated than Dan's movements. Instead of
hopping about, as Tom thought he would, he was
thoroughly graceful.

** Where could the fellow have learned to dance.?"
he asked himself, in disappointment.

Julia was gratified ; for, to tell the truth, she too
had not been altogether without misgivings on the
subject of Dan's dancing, and, being herself an ex-
cellent, dancer, she would have found it a little disa-
greeable if Dan had proved awkward.

The quadrille proceeded, and Tom was chagrined
that the newsboy, as he m.entally termed Dan, had
proved a better dancer than himself. ^^

'' Oh, well, it's easy to dance in a quadrille," he said

202 i^AN AT THE PARTY,

to himself, by way of consolation. '' He won't venture
on any of the round dances. "

But as Dan was leading Julia to her seat he asked
her hand in the next polka, and was graciously ac-
cepted.

He then bowed and left her, knowing that he ought
not to monopolize the young hostess.

Although Tom had told Dan not to expect any at-
tentions from him, he was led by curiosity to accost
our hero.

"It seems that newsboys dance," said he.

''Does it.?" asked Dan, indifferently.

''But it was not in very good taste for you to engage
Miss Rogers for the first dance."

"Why not.?"

"It was making yourself too prominent."

"Somebody had to be prominent, or Miss Rogers
would have been left to dance by herself."

"There are others who would have made more suit-
able partners for her. "

"Yourself, for instance."

"Yes."

" I am sorry to have stood in your way."

"Oh, you needn't mind. I shall have plenty of
opportunities of dancing with her, and you won't. I
suppose she took pity on you, as you know no othei
young lady here."

DAN AT THE PARTY.

205

Just then a pretty girl, beautifully dressed, ap-
proached Dan.

"Good-evening, Mr. Mordaunt," she said, offering
her hand with a beaming smile.

*' Good-evening, Miss Carroll," said Dan. **Are
you engaged for the galop.?''

Miss Carroll shook her head.

"Then will you give me the pleasure.?"

In a minute Dan was whirling round the room v/ith
the young lady, greatly to Tom's amazement, for Edith
Carroll was from a family of high social standing, liv-
ing on Murray Hill.

"How in the duse does Dan Mordaunt know that
girl.?" Tom asked himself, with a frown. "They
spoke as if they were acquainted. "

To Tom's further disappointment Dan danced as
gracefully in the galop as in the quadrille.

When the galop was over, Dan promenaded with
another young lady, whose acquaintance he had
made at dancing-school, and altogether seemed as
much at his ease as if he had been attending parties
all his life.

Tom managed to obtain Edith Carroll as a partner.

"I didn't know you were acquainted with Dan
Mordaunt," he said.

"Oh, yes, I know him very well. Doesn't he dance
charmingly ?"

204 ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ PARTY.

" Humph !" said Tom, not very well pleased. *'I
thought him rather awkward."

'' How can you say so, Mr. Carver.? Why I think
he dances beautifully, and so do all the girls."

''How do the girls know how he dances.?"

''Why he goes to our dancing- school. The profes-
sor says he is his best pupil. We all like to dance
with him."

"That's fortunate for him," said Tom, with a
sneer. "Perhaps he may become a dancing-master
in time."

"He would make a good one, but I don't think
he's very likely to do that."

"It would be a good thing for him. He is poor,
you know."

"No, I don't. I am sure he dresses well. He is as
well-dressed as any young gentleman here. "

This was true, and Tom resented it. He felt that
Dan had no right to dress well.

"He ought not to spend so much money on dress
when he has his mother to support," he said, pro-
voked.

"It seems to me you take a great deal of interest
in Mr. Mordaunt," said the young beauty, point-
edly.

"Oh, no; he can do as he likes for all me, but. of

DAN AT THE PARTY.

205

course, when a boy in his position dresses as if he
were rich one can't help noticing it."

"I am sure he can't be very poor, or he could not
attend Dodworth's dancing-school. At any rate I like
to dance with him. and I don't care whether he's poor
or rich."

Presently Tom saw Dan dancing the polka with
Julia Rogers, and with the same grace that he had
exhibited in the other dances.

He felt jealous, for he fancied himself a favorite with
Julia, because their families being intimate, he saw a
good deal of her.

On the whole Tom was not enjoying the party. He
did succeed, however, in obtaining the privilege of es-
corting Julia to supper.

Just in front of him was Dan, escorting a young
lady from Fifth avenue.

"Mr. Mordaunt appears to be enjoying himself,"
said Julia Rogers.

"Yes, he has plenty of cheek," muttered Tom.

"Excuse me, Tom, but do you think such expres-
sions suitable for such an occasion as this.^"

"I am sorry you don't like it, but I never saw a
more forward or presuming fellow than this Dan Mor-
daunt."

"I beg you to keep your opinion to yourself," said
Julia PvOgers, with dignity. "I find he is a great

2o6 DAN AT THE PARTY.

favorite with all the young ladies here. I had no idea
he knew so many of them."

Tom gave it up. It seemed to him that all the girls
were infatuated with a common newsboy, while his
vanity was hurt by finding himself quite distanced in
the race.

About twelve o'clock the two boys met in the dress-
ing-room.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself/' said Tom,
coldly.

•'Yes, thanks to your kind attentions," answered
Dan, with a smile. "It is pleasant to meet old
friends, you know. By the way, I suppose we shall
meet at Miss Carroll's party."

'' kx^ you to be invited.?" asked Tom, in astonish-
ment.

"So the young lady tells me," answered Dan,
smiling.

"I suppose you II be giving a fashionable party
next," said Tom, with a sneer.

"Consider yourself invited if I do, Good-night,
and pleasant dreams."

But Dan's dreams were by no means sweet that
night.

When he reached home, it was to hear of a great
and startling misfortune.

A NE'ER DO WELL.

207

CHAPTER XXIX.

A NE ER DO WELL.

At half-past twelve Dan ascended the stairs to his
mother's room. He had promised to come in and
tell her how he had enjoyed himself at the party. He
was in excellent spirits on account of the flattering
attentions he had received. It was in this frame of
mind that he opened the door. What was his sur-
prise, even consternation, when his mother advanced
to meet him with tearful eyes and an expression of
distress.

"Oh, Dan, I am so glad you have got home!" she
ejaculated.

"What is the matter, mother.? Are you sick.?"
asked Dan.

" I am quite well, Dan ; but Althea "

And Mrs. Mordaunt burst into tears.

"What has happened to Althea.? Is she sick.?"
asked Dan, alarmed.

' ' We have lost her, Dan. "

"Lost her ! You don't mean she is "

He couldn't finish the sentence, but his mother
divined what he meant.

2o8 A NE'ER DO WELL.

''Not dead, thank God!" she said, "but she has
disappeared — she has been stolen/'

"You don't mean it, mother!" exclaimed Dan,
startled and grieved. "Tell me about it."

Mrs. Mordaunt told what she knew, but that related
"only to the particulars of the abduction. We are in a
position to tell the reader more, but it will be neces-
sary to go back for a month, and transfer the scene to
another continent.

In a spacious and handsomely furnished apartment
at the West End of London sat the lady who had
placed Althea in charge of the Mordaunts. She was
deep in thought, and that not of an agreeable nature.

"I fear," she said to herself, "that trouble awaits
me. John Hartley, whom I supposed to be in Cali-
fornia, is certainly in London. I cannot be mistaken
in his face, and I certainly saw him in Hyde Park to-
day. Did he see me.? I don't know, but I fear he
did. If so, he will not long delay in making his ap-
pearance. Then I shall be persecuted, but I must be
firm. He shall not learn through me where Althea is.
He is her father, it is true, but he has forfeited all
claim to her guardianship. A confirmed gambler and
drunkard, he would soon waste her fortune, bequeathed
her by her poor mother. He can have no possible
claim to it; for, apart from his having had no hand in

A NE'ER DO WELL.

209

leaving it to her, he was divorced from my poor sister
before her death."

At this point there was a knock at the door of the
room.

'*Come in," said the lady.

There entered a young servant-maid, who cour-
tesied, and said :

"Mrs. Vernon, there is a gentleman who wishes to
see you."

''Can it be Hartley.?" thought the lady, with quick
suspicion.

" Did he give his name.?" she asked.

" Yes, mum ; he said his name was Bancroft."

"Bancroft ! I know no one of that name," mused
the lady. "Well, Margaret, you may show him up,
and you may remain in the anteroom within call."

Her eyes were fixed upon the door with natural
curiosity, when her visitor entered.

Instantly her face flushed, and her eyes sparkled =
with anger.

"John Hartley!" she exclaimed.

The visitor smiled mockingly.

"I see you know me, Harriet Vernon," he said.
"It is some time since we met, is it not.? I am
charmed, I am sure, to see my sister-in-law looking
so well"

2IO A NE'ER DO WELL.

He sank into a chair without waiting for an in-
vitation.

''When did you change your name to Bancroft?"
demanded the lady, abruptly.

''Oh," he said, showing his teeth, "that was a little
ruse. I feared you would have no welcome for John
Hartley, notwithstanding our near relationship, and I
was forced to sail under false colors. "

"It was quite in character," said Mrs. Vernon,
coldly; "you were always false. But you need not
claim relationship. The slender tie that connected us
was broken when my sister obtained a divorce from
you. "

"You think so, my lady," said the visitor, dropping
his tone of mocking badinage, ai:d regarding her in a
menacing manner, "but you were never more mis-
taken. You may flatter yourself that you are rid of
me, but you flatter yourself in vain."

"Do you come here to threaten me, John Hart-
ley.?"

"I come here to ask for my child. Where is
Althea.?"

"Where you cannot get at her," answered Mrs.
Vernon, coldly.

"Don't think to put me off" in that way," he said,
fiercely. ' ' I will know where she is. "

"Don't think to terrify me, John Hartley," said the

A NE'ER DO WELL. 2tl

lady, contemptuously. " I am not so easily alarmed
as your poor wife. '

Hartley looked at her as if he would have assaulted
her had he dared, but she knew very well that he did
not dare. He was a bully, but he was a coward.
" -You refuse, then, to tell me what you have done
with my child ?" he demanded, at length.

*'Ido."

-Take care, madam! A father has some rights,
and the law will not permit his child to be kept from

him."

- Does your anxiety to see Althea arise from parental

affection r she asked, in a sarcastic tone.

-■ Never mind what it springs from. I have a right
to the custodv of my child."

-I suppose you have a right to waste her fortune
also at the gaming-table."

-I have a right to act as my child's guardian," he

retorted.

<' A fine guardian you would make !" she said, con-
temptuously.

"Why should I not?" he asked, sulkily.

-Why should you not, John Hartley.? Do I need
to answer the question.? You ill-treated and abused
her mother. You wasted half her fortune. Fortu-
natelv, she escaped from you before it was all gone.
But you shortened her life, and she did not long sur^

2 12 A NE'ER DO WELL.

vive the separation. It was her last request that I
should care for her child — that I should, above all,
keep her out of your clutches. I made that promise,
and I mean to keep it. "

"You poisoned my wife's mind against me,"' he
said. ''But for your c'ursed interference we should
never have separated. "

*'You are right, perhaps, in your last straement.
I certainly did urge my sister to leave you. I ob-
tained her consent to the application for a divorce,
but as to poisoning her mind against you, there was
no need of that. By your conduct and your treat-
ment you destroyed her love and forfeited her respect,
and she saw the propriety of the course which I rec-
ommended.''

" I didn't come here to be lectured. You can spare
your invectives, Harriet Vernon. What is past is past.
I was not a model husband, perhaps, but I was as
good as the average."

"If that is the case, Heaven help the woman who
marries !"

" Or the m.an that marries a woman like you !"

"You are welcome to your opinion of me. I am
entirely indifferent to your good or bad opinion. Have
you any more to say.?"

"Any more to say! I have hardly begun. Is my
daughter Althea with you V

A NE'ER DO WELL. 213

"I don't recognize your right to question me on
this subject, but I will answer you. She is not with
me. "

"Is she in London.?"

"I will even answer that question. She is not in
London. "

"Is she in England.?"

"That I will not tell you. You have learned
enough."

John Hartley did not answer immediately. He ap-
peared to be occupied with some thought. When he
spoke it was in a more conciliatory tone.

"I don't doubt that she is in good hands," he said.
"I am sure you will treat her kindly. Perhaps you
are a better guardian than I. I am willing to leave
her in your hands, but I ought to have some com-
pensation. "

*'What do you mean.?"

"Althea has a hundred thousand dollars, yielding
at least five thousand dollars income. Probably her
expenses are little more than one-tenth of this sum.
While my child is rich I am poor. Give me half her
income — say three thousand dollars annually — and i
will give you and her no further trouble."

"I thought that was the object of your visit," said
Mrs. Vernon, coldly. " I was right in giving you no
credit for parental affection. In regard to your propo-

214

A NE'ER DO WELL.

sition, I cannot entertain it. You had one half of
my sister's fortune, and you spent it. You have no
further claim on her money. "

'^Is this your final answer.?" he demanded, angrily.

'at is."

'' Then I swear to you that I will be even with you.
I will find the child, and when I do you shall never
see her again. "

Mrs. Vernon rang the bell.

Margaret entered.

"Margaret," she said, coldly, "will you show this
gentleman out.''"

John Hartley rose and bowed ironically.

"You are certainly very polite, Harriet Vernon," he
said. "You are bold, too, for you are defying me,
and that is dangerous. You had better reconsider
your determination, before it is too late. "

"It will never be too late ; I can at any time buy
you off," she said, contemptuously. "All you want
is money. "

"We shall see," he hissed, eying her malignantly.

* ' Margaret, " said Mrs. Vernon, when her visitor had
been shown out, "never admit that person again; I
am always out to him."

"Yes, mum," said the girl. "I wonder who 'twas,"
she thought, curiously.

HOW HARTLEY GOT A CLEW.

2t5

CHAPTER XXX.

HOW HARTLEY GOT A CLEW.

John Hartley, when a young man, had wooed and
won Althea's mother. Julia Belmont was a beautiful
and accomplished girl, an heiress in her own right,
and might have made her choice among at least a
dozen suitors. That she should have accepted the
hand of John Hartley, a banker's clerk, reputed
"fast," was surprising, but a woman's taste in such
a case is often hard to explain or justify. Her sister —
now Mrs. Vernon — strenuously objected to the match,
and by so doing gained the hatred of her future
\)rother-in-law. Opposition proved ineffectual, and
Julia Belmont became Mrs. Hartley. Her fortune
amounted to two hundred thousand dollars. The
trustee and her sister succeeded in obtaining her
consent that half of this sum should be settled on
herself, and her issue, should she have any.

This proved to be a wise precaution. John Hartley
resigned his position immediately after marriage, and
dsclined to enter upon any business.

"Why should I.?" he said. "Julia and I have

2i6 ^OW HARTLEY GOT A CLEIV.

enough to live upon. If I am out of business I can
devote myself more entirely to her."

This reasoning satisfied his young wife, and for
a time all went well. But Hartley joined a fashion-
able club, formed a taste for gambling, indulged in
copious libations, net unfrequently staggering home
drunk, to the acute sorrow of his wife, and then
excesses soon led to ill-treatment. The mone}', which
he could spend in a few years, melted away, and
he tried to gain possession of the remainder of his
wife's property. But, meanwhile, Althea was born,
and a consideration for her child's welfare strengthened
the wife in her firm refusal to accede to this unreason-
able demand.

**You shall have the income, John," she said — "I
will keep none back ; but the principal must be kept
for Althea. "

"You care more for the brat than you do for me,"
he muttered.

" I care for you both," she answered. "You know
how the money would go, John. We should all be
left destitute."

"I'hat meddling sister of yours has put you up to
this," he said, angrily.

"There was no need of that. It is right, and X
have decided for myself."

"Your first duty is to your husband."

HOIV HARTLEY GOT A CLEW. 217

'*I feel that in refusing I am doing my duty by
you."

"It is a strange way — to oppose your husband's
wishes. Women ought never to be trusted with mon-
ey— they don't know how to take care of it. "

"You are not the person to say this, John. In five
years you have wasted one hundred thousand dollars."
"It was bad luck in investments," he replied.
"I am afraid you are right. Investing money at
the gaming-table is not very profitable. "

"Do you mean to insult me, madam?" exclaimed
Hartley, furiously.

"I am only telling the sad truth, John."
He forgot himself and struck her.
She withdrew, flushed and indignant, for she had
spirit enough to resent this outrage, and he left the
house in a furious rage.

When Hartley found that there was no hope of car-
rying his point, all restraint seemed removed. He
plunged into worse excesses, and his treatment be-
came so bad that Mrs. Hartley consented to institute
proceedings for divorce. It was granted, and the child
was given to her. Hartley disappeared for a time.
When he returned his wife had died of pneumonia,
and her sister— Mrs. Vernon, now a widow— had as-
sumed the care of Althea. An attempt to gain pos-
session of the child induced her to find another

2i8 ^OW HARTLEY GOT A CLEIV.

guardian for the child. This was the way Althea had
come into the family of our young hero.

Thus much, that the reader may understand the
position of affairs, and follow intelligently the future
course of the story.

When John Hartley left the presence of his sister-in-
law, he muttered maledictions upon her.

^'I'll have the child yet, if only to spite her," he
muttered, between his teeth. "I won't allow a jade
to stand between me and my own flesh and blood. I
must think of some plan to circumvent her. "

This was not easy. He had absolutely no clew, and
little money to assist him in his quest. But Fortune,
which does not always favor the brave, but often helps
the undeserving, came unexpectedly to his help.

At an American banker's he ran across an old
acquaintance — one who had belonged to the same
club as himself in years past.

"What are you doing here. Hartley.?" he asked.

'' Not much. Luck is against me."

** Sorry to hear it. By the way, I was reminded of
you not long since. "

''How is that.?"

*'I saw your child in Union Square, in New York."
"Are you sure of it.?" asked Hartley, eagerly.
"Are you sure it was my child.?"

HOW HARTLEY GOT A CLEW.

219

*' Of course; I used to see it often, you know. She
is a bright little thing. "

**Do you know where she lives?" asked Hartley.
''Did you follow her?"

*' Don't ^^« know where she lives?"

*' No ; her aunt is keeping the child from me. I am
very anxious to find her."

"That accounts for it. She was with a middle-aged
lady, who evidently was suspicious of me, for she did
not bring out the child but once more, and was
clearly anxious when I took notice of her. "

''She was acting according to instructions, no
doubt."

"Very probably."

"I wish you had learned more."

"So do I. Why do they keepj^^^^ away from her?"

"Because she has money, and they wish to keep it
in their hands," said Hartley, plausibly. "The aunt
is a very mercenary woman. She is living here in
London, doubtless on my little girl's fortune."

John Hartley knew that this was not true, for Mrs.
Vernon was a rich woman ; but it suited his purpose
to say so, and the statement was believed by his
acquaintance.

"This is bad treatment. Hartley," he said, in a
tone of sympathy,

"Isn't it?"

2 20 ^OW HARTLEY GOT A CLE IV.

*' What are you going to do about it?"

''Try to find out where the child is placed, and get
possession of her, "

" I wish you success."

This information John Hartley felt to be of value.
It narrowed his search, and made success much less
difficult.

In order to obtain more definite information, he lay
in wait for Mrs. Vernon's servant.

Margaret at first repulsed him, but a sovereign judi-
ciously slipped into her hand convinced her that Hart-
ley was quite the gentleman, and he had no difficulty,
by the promise of a future douceur, in obtaining her
co-operation.

"What is it you want, sir.?" she asked. ''If it's no-
harm you mean my missus "

** Certainly not, but she is keeping my child from
me. You can understand a father's wish to see his
child, my dear girl."

''Indeed, I think it's cruel to keep her from you,
sir."

"Then look over your mistress' papers and try to
obtain the street and number where she is boarding in
New York. I have a right to know that. "

"Of course you have, sir," said the girl, readily.

So it came about that the girl obtained Dan's
address, and communicated it to John Hartley.

HOIV HARTLEY GOT A CLEW. 221

As soon as possible afterward Hartley sailed for New
York.

"Til secure the child/' he said to himself, exult-
ingly, "and then my sweet sister-in-law must pay
roundly for her if she wants her back. "

All which attested the devoted love of John Hartley
for his child.

222 ALTHFA'S ABDUCTION,

CHAPTER XXXI.
althea's abduction.

Arrived in New York, John Hartley lost no time in
ascertaining where Dan and his mother lived. In
order the better to watch without incurring suspicion,
he engaged by the week a room in a house opposite,
which, luckily for his purpose, happened to be for
rent. It was a front window, and furnished him with
a post of observation from which he could see who
went in and out of the house opposite.

** Hartley soon learned that it would not be so easy
as he had anticipated to gain possession of the little
girl. She never went out alone, but always accom-
panied either by Dan or his mother.

Hartley was disappointed. If, now, Althea were at-
tending school, there would be an opportunity to kid-
nap her. As it was, he was at his wits' end.

At last, however, opportunity favored him.

On the evening of the party Mrs. Mordaunt chanced
to need some small article necessary to the work upon
which she was engaged. She might indeed wait until
the next day, but she was repairing a vest of Dan's,

ALTHEA'S ABDUCTION. 223

which he would need to wear in the morning, and she
did not like to disappoint him.

" My child," she said, "I find I must go out a little
while."

"What for, mamma.?"

"I want to buy some braid to bind Dan's vest. He
will want to wear it in the morning."

"May I go with you, mamma.?"

"No, my child. You can be reading your picture-
book till I come back. I won't be long."

So Mrs. Mordaunt put on her street dress, and left
the house in the direction of Eighth avenue, where
there was a cheap store at which she often traded.

No sooner did Hartley see her leave the house, as
he could readily do, for the night was light, than he
hurried to Union Square, scarcely five minutes distant,
and hailed a cab-driver.

" Do you want a job, my man.?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Can you hold your tongue.?"

"Yes, sir, if necessary.''

"It is necessary."

"There is nothing wrong, sir, I hope."

"Certainly not. My child has been kidnapped dur-
ing my absence in Europe. With your help I mean
to recover her. "

"All right, sir."

2 24 ALTHEA'S ABDUCTION.

"She is in the custody of some designing per-
sons, who keep possession of her en account of a
fortune which she is to inherit. She does not know
me to be her father, we have been so long separated ;
but I feel anxious to take her away from her treacher-
ous guardians."

"You are right, sir. I've got a little girl of my
own, and I understand your feelings. Where shall
we go.'"

Hartley gave the proper address. Fifteen minutes
afterw-ard the cab drew up before Mrs. Brown's door,
and Hartley, springing from it, rang the bell. It so
happened that I\Irs. Brown was out, and a servant
answered the bell. She looked inquiringly at the
visitor.

"A lady lives here with a little girl," he said,
quickly.

' '■ Yes, sir ; Mrs. Mordaunt. "

"Precisely; and the little girl is named Althea."

"You are right, sir."

"Mrs. Mordaunt has been run over by a street-
car, and been carried into my house. She wishes the
little girl to come at once to her."

"Is she much hurt.'" asked Nancy, anxiously.

"lam afraid her leg is broken; but I can't wait.
Will you bring the little girl down at once.?"

"Oh, yes, sir. I'll lose no time."

ALTKEA'S ABDUCTION.

225

Nancy went up stairs two steps at a time, and broke
into Mrs. Mordaunt's room breathless.

" Pat on your hat at once, Miss Althea," she said.

"What for.?" asked the child, in surprise.

" Your ma has sent for you. "

"But she said she was coming right back."

"She's hurt, and she can't come, and she has sent
for you. Don't cry, my dear. "

" But how shall I know where to go, Nancy?''

"There's a kind gentleman at the door with a car-
riage. Your ma has been taken to his home."

The little girl began to cry once more.

"Oh! I'm afraid mamma's been killed,'" she said.

"No, she hasn't, or how could she send for you.?"

This argument tended to reassure Althea, and she
put on her little shawl and hat, and hurried down
stairs.

Hartley was waiting for her impatiently, fearing that
Mrs. Mordaunt would come back sooner than was
anticipated, and so interfere with the fulfillment of
his plans.

"Is mamma ver}^ much hurt.?" asked Althea, anx-
iously.

"So she calls this woman mamma, " said Hartley
to himself.

"Not very badly, but she cannot come home to-

2 26 ALTHEA'S ABDUCTION,

night Get into the carriage, and I will tell you about
it as we are riding to her. "

He hurried the little girl into the carriage, and
taking a seat beside her, ordered the cabman to
drive on.

He had before directed him to drive to the South
Perry.

" How did mamma get hurt.?" asked the child.

" She was crossing the street," said Hartley, ''when
she got in the way of a carriage and was thrown down
and run over."

The child began to cry.

"Oh, she will die!" she exclaimed, sobbing.

**No, she will not die. The carriage was not a
heavy one, luckily, and she is only badly bruised.
She will be all right in a few days."

John Hartley was a trifle inconsistent in bis stories,
having told the servant that Mrs. Mordaunt had been
Tun over by a street-car; but in truth he had forgotten
the details of his first narrative, and had modified it in
the second telling. However, Nancy had failed to tell
the child precisely how Mrs. Mordaunt had been hurt,
and she was not old enough to be suspicious.

*' Where is mamma.?" was the little girl's next
question.

" She is at my house."
-." Where is yourr house .?"

ALTHEA'S ABDUCTION, 227

"Not far from here," answered Hartley, evasively.

"Then I shall soon see mamma."

"Is she your mamma?" asked Hartley.

"No, not my own mamma, but I call her so. I
love her dearly. "

"Where is your own mamma?"

"She is dead."

" Do you remember her?"

"A little."

" Have you a papa ?"

"My papa is a very bad man. He treated poor
mamma very badly."

"Who told you this?" demanded Hartley, frowning.
"Was it Mrs. Mordaunt?"

"No; it was auntie."

"I thought this was some of Harriet Vernon's
work," said Hartley to himself. "It seems like my
amiable sister-in-law. She might have been in better
business than poisoning my child's mind against me."

"Who else lives with you?" he asked, partly out
of curiosity, but mainly to occupy the child's mind,
so that she might not be fully conscious of the lapse
of time.

" My brother Dan. "

"How old is Dan?"

"I don't know. He is a good deal bigger than
me."

228 ALTHEA 'S ABDUCTION.

"Do vou like Dan?"

"Oh, ves : Dan is a nice bov. He burs me candv.
He has gone to a partj to-night "'

"Has he?"

"And he won't be home till late. He told mam-
ma so. '"'

"I am glad of that,"" thought Hartley. "It is the
better for my purpose. '

"Dan is a smart boy. He earns lots of money."

"What does he do?"

"I don't know. He goes down town evert- morn-
ing, and he doesn't come home till supper time. "

Hartley managed to continue his inquiries about
Dan, but at last Althea became restless.

"Are we most there?" she asked.

"Yes, we are almost there."

"I don't see how mamma could have gone so far."

John Hartley looked out

" I see how it is," he said. "The cab-driver lost
the way, and that has delayed us. "

This satisfied the child for a time. Meanwhile they
reached the South Ferry*, and Hartley began to con-
sider in what way he could explain their crossing the
water.

DONOVAN' S.

229

CHAPTER XXXII.

DOXOVAX S.

After a moment's thought Hartley took a flask from
his pocket, into which he had dropped a sleeping po-
tion, and oiTered it to the child.

*' Drink, my dear," he said; *'it will do you
good."

It was a sweet wine and pleasant to the taste.
Althea drank considerable.

''What is it? It tastes good,'"' she said.

''It is a cordial,'"' answered Hartley.

"I like it. I will ask mamma to get some. How
long is it.^ Are we most there .^''

"Almost."

"I feel very sleepy,'"' said Althea, drowsily, the po-
tion having already begun to attack her.

"Lean back and shut vour eyes. I will tell you
when we have arrived."

The innocent and unsuspecting child did as she was
directed. Her little head nodded. She struggled
against the increasing drowsiness, but in vain. In five
minutes she was fast asleep.

230 DONOVAN'S.

'* There will be no further trouble," thought Hart-
ley. "When she wakes up it will be morning. My
plan has been a complete success. "

It might have been supposed that some instinct of
parental affection would have made it disagreeable
to this man to kidnap his own child by such means,
but John Hartley had never been troubled with a
heart or natural affections. He was supremely selfish,
and surveyed the sleeping child as coolly and in-
differently as if he had never before set eyes upon
her.

Two miles and a half beyond the South Ferry, in a
thinly settled outlying district of Brooklyn, stood a
three-story brick house, shabby and neglected in
appearance, bearing upon a sign over the door the
name

DONOVAN'S

Wines and Liquors.

It was the nightly resort of a set of rough and law-
less men, many of them thieves and social outlaws,
who drank and smoked as they sat at small tables in
the sand-strewn bar-room.

Hugh Donovan himself had served a term at Sing
Sing for burglary, and was suspected to be indirectly
interested in the ventures of others engaged in similar
offenses, though he managed to avoid arrest.

DON'OVAJ^'S.

231

John Hartley ordered the hackman to stop. He
sprang from the carriage, and unceremonioNsly en-
tered the bar-room. Donovan, a short, thickset man
with reddish whiskers, a beard of a week's growth, and
but one serviceable eye, sat in a wooden arm-chair,
smoking a clay pipe. There were two other men in
the room, and a newsboy sat dozing on a settee.

Donovan looked up, and his face assumed a look of
surprise as he met the glance of the visitor, whom he
appeared to know.

''Where did you come from, Mr. Hartley?'' he
asked, taking the pipe from his mouth.

** Hist ! Come out here," said Hartley.

Donovan obeyed directions.

"Is your wife at home, Hugh.^" asked Hartley.

"Yes, Mr. Hartley. She's up stairs. "

' * I have a job for her and for you. "

"What is it now?"

"I have a child in that carriage. I want her taken
care of for a few days or weeks. "

" Shure, the old woman isn't a very good protector
for a gal. She's drunk half the time."

"I can't help it. There are reasons — imperative
reasons — why the girl should be concealed for a time,
and I can think of no other place than this. "

"Who is the girl?"

"It is my own child."

2i2 DONOVAN'S.

Donovan whistled.
, "I see you are surprised. I have little time for ex-
planation, but I may tell you that she has been kept
from me by my enemies, who wanted to get hold of
her money. "

"Has she got money.?" asked Donovan, with
curiosity.

"She will have, sometime. She is her mother's
heiress. "

"Did the old lady leave it all away from you, then.?
Shure, it's hard."

"Of course it is. The least I can expect is to be
made guardian of my own child. But we are wasting
time. Is there no way of getting up stairs except by
passing through the bar-room .?"

"Yes, Mr. Hartley, we can go up the back way.
Just take the child and follow me."

Hartley did so. At the rear of the house was
a stair-way, up which he clambered, bearing the sleep-
ing child in his arms.

Donovan pushed the door open, and disclosed a
dirty room, with his better-half — a tall, gaunt woman
— reclining in a rocking-chair, evidently partially un-
der the influence of liquor, as might be guessed from
a black bottle on a wooden table near by.

She stared in astonishment at her husband's com-
panions.

DONOVAN'S.

"Shure, Hugh, who is it you're bringin' here?"
"It's a child, old woman, that you're to have the
care of."

"Divil a bit do I want a child to worrit me."
** You'll be well paid, Mrs. Donovan," said John
Plartley.

' ' Will I get the money, or Hugh ?" asked the Celtic
lady.

*'You shall have half, Bridget," said her hus-
band.

"Will you shwar it?" asked the lady, cautiously.

"Yes, I'll swear it."

"And how much will it be?"

"I will pay ten dollars a week — half to you, and
half to your husband," said Hartley. "Here's a
week's pay in advance," and he took out two five-
dollar bills, one of which was eagerly clutched by
Mrs. Donovan.

* * I'll take care of her, " said she, readily, * ' What's
her name ?"

"Althea."

' ' Shure that's a quare name. I niver heard the
like."

"You needn't call her that. You can call her any
name you like," said Hartley, indifferently. "Per-
haps you had better call her Katy, as there may

234

DONOVAN'S.

be a hue and cry after her, and that may divert
suspicion."

" How old is the crathur?"

''Five or six — I forget which. Where shall I put
her?"

"Put her in here," said Mrs. Donovan, and she
opened the door of a small room, in which was a
single untidy bed.

"She won't wake up till morning. I gave her a
sleeping potion— otherwise she might have made a
fuss, for she doesn't know me to be her father."

" Shure ye knew what to do."

"Now, Mrs. Donovan, I depend upon your keep-
ing her safe. It will not do to let her escape, for she
might find her way back to the people from whom I
have taken her."

"I'll see to that, Mr. Hartley," said Donovan.

"Say nothing about me in connection with the
matter, Donovan. I will communicate with you from
time to time. If the police are put on the track, I
depend on your sending her away to some other place
of security."

"All right, sir."

"And now good-night. I shall go back to New
York at once. I must leave you to pacify her as well
as you can when she awakes. She is sure to make a
fuss."

DONOVAN'S.

235

- "Til trate her like my own child," said Mrs. Dono-
van.

Had Hartley been a devoted father, this assurance
from the coarse, red-faced woman would have been
satisfactory, but he cared only for the child as a means
of replenishing his pockets, and gave himself no
trouble.

The hackman was still waiting at the door.

** It's a queer place to leave a child," thought he, as
his experienced eye took in the features of the place.
"It appears to be a liquor saloon. The gentleman
can't be very particular. However, it is none of my
business. I suppose it is all right."

''Driver, I am ready," said Hartley. "I'll go back
with you."

"All right, sir."

"Go over Fulton Ferrv, and leave me at your stand
in Union Square."

The ride was a long one. Hartley threw himself
back on the seat, and gave himself up to pleasant self-
congratulation.

"I think this will bring Harriet Vernon to terms,"
he said. "She will find that she can't stand between
me and my child. If she will make it worth my
while, she shall have the child back, but I propose to
see that my interests are secured."

The next morning Hartley stepped into an up-town

2^6

DONOVAN'S.

hotel, and wrote a letter to his sister-in-law in Lon-
don, demanding that four thousand dollars be sent
him yearly, in quarterly payments, in consideration of
which he agreed to give up the child, and abstain from
further molestation.

ALTERA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN.

237

CHAPTER XXXIII.

ALTHEA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN.

The sleeping potion which had been administered
to Althea kept her in sound sleep till eight o'clock the
next morning. When her eyes opened, and she be-
came conscious of her surroundings, she looked about
her in surprise. Then she sat up in bed and gazed
wildly at the torn wall paper and dirty and shabby fur-
niture.

"Where am I.?" she asked herself, in alarm.
"Mamma, mamma!"

The door opened, and the red and inflamed face of
Mrs. Hugh Donovan peered in.

''What is it yer want V she asked.

''I want mamma," answered the child, still more
frightened.

''Shure I'm your ma, child."

"No, you are not," said Althea. "I never saw you
before. "

"Didn't you, now.? Maybe you've forgotten. I
sent ycu away to board, but you've come home to live
with your ma. **

238 ALTHEA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN.

**You are telling stories. You are a bad woman,"
returned the child, ready to cry.

''It's a purty thing for a child to tell her ma she's
lyin .

"You're not my ma. You're an ugly woman. My
ma hasn't got a red face. "

"Hear till her now !"' exclaimed Mrs. Donovan, in-
dignantly. "Don't you go on talkin' that way, but
get right up, or you sha'n't have any breakfast."

"Oh, send me back to my mother and Dan !" im-
plored Althea.

"Dress yourself, and I'll see about it," said Mrs.
Donovan.

Althea looked for her clothes, but could not find
them. In their place she found a faded calico dress
and some ragged undergarments, which had once
belonged to a daughter of Mrs. Donovan, now at
service.

"Those clothes are not mine," said Althea.

"Shure they are. What are yer talkin' about.?"

"I had a pretty pink dress and a nice new skirt.
Oh, where are they .?"

"Shure you're dramin'. These was the clothes you
took off last night," said Mrs. Donovan, with unblush-
ing falsehood.

"I won't put this dress on, " said the child, indig-
nantly.

A L THE A BECOMES KATY DONOVAN.

239

''Then you'll have to lay abed all day, and won't
get nothing to eat/' said the woman. ''Maybe you'll
like that now."

''What is your name?" asked Althea.

"Shure you're a quare child to ask your own
mother's name. I'm Mrs. Donovan, and you're my
Katy "

''I am not Katy. IMy name is Althea."

"That's a quare name intirely. Who put it into
your head. I'm afraid you're gone crazy, Katy. "

Althea was bewildered. Was it possible that she
could be Katy Donovan, and that this red-faced wo-
man was her mother.^ She began to doubt her own
identity. She could not remember this woman, but
was it possible that there was any connection between
them }

"Are we in New York.?" she asked, timidly.

"No, we are in Brooklyn."

"I used to live in New York with Mamma Mor-
daunt. "

''Well, you're livin' in Brooklyn now with Mamma
Donovan."

' ' I never saw you before. "

"Shure I shouldn't have sent you away from me to
have you come home and denv vour own mother."

"Will you let me go to New York and see Mamma
Mordaunt .?" asked Althea, after a pause.

240 ALTHEA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN,

''If you're a good girl, perhaps I will. Now get
up, and I'll give you some breakfast."

With a shudder of dislike Althea arrayed herself in
the dirty garments of the real Katy Donovan, and
looked at her image in the cracked mirror with a
disgust which she could not repress.

Hartley had suggested that her own garments
should be taken away in order to make her escape
less feasible.

She opened the door, and entered the room in which
Mrs. Donovan had set the table for breakfast.

As she came in at one door, Hugh Donovan entered
at another.

"Come here, little gal," he said, with a grin.

Akhea looked at him with real terror. Certainly
Hugh Donovan was not a man to attract a child.

Althea at once thought of an ogre whom Dan had
described to her in a fairy story, and half fancied that
she was in the power of such a creature.

''I don't want to," said the child, trembling.

''Go to your father, Katy," said Mrs, Donovan.
"He won't hurt you."

This her father ! Althea shuddered at the idea, and
she gazed as if fascinated at his one eye.

"Yes, come to your pa," said Donovan, jeeringly.
"I like little gals — 'specially when they're my own."

"I am not your child !" said Althea, alarmed.

ALTHEA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN.

241

''Yes, you be, and don't you deny it Come and
give your father a kiss. "

The Httle girl began to cry in nervous terror, and
Donovan laughed, thinking it a good joke.

''Well, it'll do after breakfast," he said. "Sit up,
child, and we'll see what the ould woman has got for
us."

Mrs. Donovan did not excel as a cook, but Althea
managed to eat a little bread and butter, for neither of
which articles the lady of the house was responsible.
When the meal was over she said :

"Now, will you take me back to New York V

"You are not going back at all," said Hugh. "You
are our little girl, and you are going to live with us."

Althea looked from one to the other in terror. Was
it possible they could be in earnest ? She was forced
to believe it, and was overwhelmed at the prospect.
She burst into a tempest of sobs.

Men are less tolerant of tears than women.

Hugh Donovan's face darkened, and his anger was
kindled.

"Stop that howlin' now !" he said.

Althea continued to cry hysterically.

"Stop it now, if you know what's best for your-
self!"

Althea was terrified, but she cciald not at once con-
trol her emotion,

242 ALTHEA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN.

■ "Old woman, get the whip!" said Hugh, hoarsely.

From a drawer Mrs. Donovan drew out a riding
whip. Her husband took it, and brandished it men-
acingly.

*'Do you see that, now?" he said.

''Yes," said AUhea, trembling, stopping short, as
if fascinated.

"Then you'll feel it if you don't stop your howl-
in'."

Althea gazed at him horror-stricken.

"I thought you'd come to your senses," he said, in
a tone of satisfaction. "Kape her safe, old woman,
till she knows how to behave. "

In silent misery the little girl sat down and watched
Mrs. Donovan as she cleared away the table, and
washed the dishes. It was dull and hopeless work for
her. She thought sorrowfully of Mrs. Mordaunt and
Dan, and wished she could be with them again.
Should she never, never see them? The thought so
saddened her that she burst into a low moan, which at
once drew the attention of Mrs. Donovan.

"Are you at it again?" she said.

"I can't help it," mcaned Althea.

"Ye can't, can't ye? See here, now," and the wo-
man displayed the whip with which her husband had
threatened the child. "I'll give ye something to cry
for/'

ALTHEA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN. 243

'•'Oh, don't— don't beat me !" entreated Althea.

"Then kape quiet!"

*'May I go out into the street?" asked the little

girl.

''Ye want to run away," said Mrs. Donovan, sus-
piciously.

"No, I don't. I mean I won't unless you let me."

"I won't trust ye."

" Must I stay here all the time.?" asked Althea, with
her little heart sinking at the thought.

"No, Katy, you may go wid me when I go to the
market," answered Mrs. Donovan. *'Shure, if you 11
be a good gal, I'll give you all the pleasure I can."

Althea waited half an hour, and then was provided
with a ragged sun-bonnet, with which, concealing her
sad face, she emerged from the house, and walked to
a small market, where Mrs. Donovan obtained her
supplies for dinner.

Troubled as she was, Althea looked about her with
a child's curiosity on her way through the strange
streets. It served to divert her from her sorrow.

"Who's that little girl, Mrs. Donovaji.?" asked an
acquaintance.

"Shure it's my little Katy," said the woman, with a
significant wink which prevented further questioning.

Althea wished to deny this, but she did not dare to.
She had become afraid of her new guardians. Oh, if

244

ALTHEA BECOMES KATY DONOVAN.

she could only see Dan ! She felt sure that he would
take her away from these wicked people, but how was
Dan to know where she was. The poor child's lips
quivered, and she could hardly refrain from crying.

ANOTHER LITTLE GAME. 245

CHAPTER XXXIV.

ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

It was so late when Dan heard of Althea's disap-
pearance that he felt it necessary to wait till morning
before taking any steps toward her recovery.

'Til find her, mother/' he said, confidently. ''Do
not lie awake thinking of her, for it won't do any
good."

''How can I help it, Dan.? I didn't know how
much I loved the dear child till I lost her. "

''You have not lost her, mother."

"I am not so hopeful as you, Dan. I fear that I
shall never see her again. "

"I am sure we shall. Now, mother, I am going to
bed, but I shall be up bright and early in the morning,
and then to work. "

"You won't have any time, Dan. You must go to
the store. "

"I shall take a week's vacation. I will write a note
to Mr. Rogers, telling him my reasons, and he will
be sure not to object. If Althea is to be found, I will
find her within a week. "

J46 ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

Dan's confidence gave Mrs. Mordaunt some cour-
age, but she could not feel as sanguine of success
as Dan.

In the morning Dan sought out Nancy, and took
down her account of how the little girl had been
spirited away.

' ' So she went away in a carriage, Nancy }"

''Yes, Master Dan."

"Can you tell me what sort of a looking man it
was that took her away .?"

''Shure I couldn't. I was struck dumb, you see,
wid hearing how your mother broke her leg, and I
didn't think to look at him sharp."

''You can tell if he was an old man or a young
one.

*' He was naythur. He was betwixt and betwane."

"Very tall or very short.?"

"Naythur. He was jist middlin'."

"Well, that's something. Now, what kind of a
carriage was it .''"

"Jist a hack like them at the square."

"You wouldn't remember the driver.?"

"No; shure they all look alike to me."

Dan made more inquiries, but elicited nothing fur-
ther that was likely to be of service to him.

After a little reflection he decided to go to Union

ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

247

square and interview some of the drivers waiting for
passengers there.

He did so, but the driver who bad actually been
employed by Hartley was absent, and he learned noth-
ing. One driver, however, remembered carrying a
gentleman and child to a house on Twenty-seventh
5treet, between Eighth and Ninth avenues.

Dan thought the clew of sufficient importance to be
followed up. His courage rose when, on inquiring
ftt the house mentioned, he learned that a child had
actually been brought there.

''May I see the child, madam?" he asked.

"If you like," answered the lady, in surprise.

She appeared in a short time with a boy of about
Althea's age.

Dan's countenance fell.

*'It is a little girl I am inquiring after," he said.

*'Then why didn't you say so?" demanded the
woman, sharply. "You would have saved me some
trouble."

"I beg your pardon, madam."

"I begin to think I am not as good a detective as
I thought," said Dan to himself "I am on a false
scent, that is sure. "

So Dan returned to Union Square.

When he had been asking questions of the cab-
drivers he had not been unobserved. John Hartley,

248 ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

who knew Dan by sight, laughed in his sleeve as he
noted our hero's inquiries.

"You may be a smart boy, my lad," he said to him-
self, "but I don't think you'll find the child. I have
a great mind to give you a hint."

He approached Dan, and observed, in a friendly
way :

"Are you in search of your little sister.?"

"Yes, sir," returned Dan, eagerly. "Can you tell
me anything about her.?"

"I am not sure, but possibly I may. I occupy a
room directly opposite the house in which you board.'

"Did you see Althea carried away.?'' asked Dan,
eagerly.

"Yes; I was sitting at my window when I saw a
hack stop at your door. The door-bell was rung by
a man who desended from the hack, and shortly after-
ward your sister came out, and was put into the
carriage. "

"'What was the man's appearance, sir.? The servant
could not tell me."

"So much the better," thought Hartley, with satis-
faction.

"He was a little taller than myself, I should say,"
he answered, "and I believe his hair was brown" —
Hartley's was black. "I am sorry I can't remember
more particularly."

ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

249

"That is something. Thank you, sir. I wish I
knew where the cab went. "

" I think I can tell you that. I came down into
the street before the cab drove away, and I heard the
gentleman referred to say, in a low voice, 'Drive to
Harlem.'"

''Thank you, sir," said Dan, gratefully. "That
puts me on the right track. I shall know where to
search now."

"I wish I could tell you more," said Hartley, with
a queer smile.

"Thank you, sir."

"If you find your little sister, I should be glad if
you would let me know," continued Hartley, chuck-
ling inwardly.

"I will, sir, if you will let me know your name
and address."

"My name is John Franklin, and I live in the
house directly opposite yours, No. — . "

"All right, sir; I will note it. down."

John Hartley looked after Dan with a smile.

"My dear young friend," he said to himself, "it
goes to my heart to deceive you, you are so innocent
and confiding. I wish you much joy of your search
in Harlem. I think it will be some time before I
receive intelligerfce of your success. Still I will keep
my room here, and look after you a little. I am really

250

ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

afraid your business will suffer while you are wander-
ing about."

John Hartley had already written to London, and
he was prepared to wait three weeks or more for an
answer to his proposition. Meanwhile he had one
source of uneasiness. His funds were getting low,
and unless Harriet Vernon responded favorably to his
proposal, he was liable to be seriously embarrassed.
He had on previous similar occasions had recourse to
the gaming-table, but Fortune did not always decide
in his favor. He did not dare to hazard the small
sum he had on hand, lest want of success should im-
peril the bold scheme for obtaining an income at his
child's expense.

At this critical point in his fortunes he fell in with
a Western adventurer, who, by a sort of freemasonry,
recognizing Hartley's want of character, cautiously
sounded him as to becoming a partner in a hazardous
but probably profitable enterprise. It was to procure
some genuine certificates of stock in a Western railway
for a small number of shares, say five or ten, and raise
them ingeniously to fifty and a hundred, and then
pledge them as collateral in Wall street for a corre-
sponding sum of money.

John Hartley, if an honest man, would have in-
dignantly declined the overtures; but he was not
endowed with Roman virtue. He made a cautious

<ir

ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

251

investigation to ascertain how great was the danger
of detection, and how well the enterprise would pay.
The answer to the second question was so satisfactory
that he made up his mind to run the necessary risk,
Blake and he cam.e to a definite understanding, and
matters were put in train. Certificates were readily
obtained, and by the help of a skillful accomplice, who
did the work for a specified sum, were ingeniously
raised tenfold.

Then Blake, assuming the dress and manners of a
thriving business man from Syracuse, negotiated a
loan, pledging the raised certificate as collateral. The
private banker put it away among his securities without
a doubt or suspicion, and Blake and Hartley divided
a thousand dollars between them.

John Hartley was very much elated by his success.
The pecuniary assistance came just in the nick of time,
when his purse was very low.

"It's a good thing to have more than one string to
your bow," he thought. "Not but that my little game
in getting hold of the child is likely to pay well. Har-
riet Vernon will find that I have the whip-hand of her.
She must come to my terms, sooner or later."

At that very moment Harriet Vernon was embark-
ing at Liverpool on a Cunard steamer. She had re-
ceived the letter of her brother-in-law, and decided tg
answer it in person.

252

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF,

CHAPTER XXXV.

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF.

For several days Dan strolled about Harlem, using
his eyes to good advantage. As a pretext he carried
with him a few morning papers for sale. Armed with
these he entered shops and saloons without exciting
surprise or suspicion. But he discovered not a trace
of the lost girl.

One day, as he was riding home in the Third
avenue cars, there flashed upon his mind a convic-
tion that he was on a wrong scent.

"Is it probable that the man who carried away
Althea would give the right direction so that it could
be overheard by a third party .? No ; it was probably
meant as a blind, and I have been just fool enough to
fall into the trap."

So Dan's eyes were partially opened.

Before the day was over they were wholly opened.
He met John Hartley on Broadway toward the close
of the afternoon.

' ' Well, have you heard anything of your sister ?" he
askedj with an appearance of interest,

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF,

253

"Not yet," answered Dan.

*' That's a pity. Do you go up to Harlem every
day.?"

"Yes."

"Keep on, you will find her in time."

After they parted, Dan, happening to look back,
detected a mocking glance in the face of his ques-
tioner, and a new discovery flashed upon him. Hart-
ley was making a fool of him. He had sent him to
Harlem, purposely misleading him.

"What can be his object?'' thought Dan. "Can
he have had anything to do with the abduction of
Althea.?"

This was a question which he could not satisfac-
torily answer, but he resolved to watch Hartley, and
follow him wherever he went, in the hope of obtaining
some clew. Of course he must assume some disguise,
as Hartley must not recognize him.

Finally Dan decided upon this plan.

He hired a room on East Fourth street for a week,
and then sought an Italian boy to whom he had occa-
sionally given a few pennies, and with some difdculty
(for Giovanni knew but little English, and he no Ital-
ian) proposed that the Italian should teach him to
sing and play "Viva Garibaldi." Dan could play a
little on the violin, and soon qualified himself for his
iiew business,

254

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF.

At a second-hand shop on Chatham street he picked
up a suit of tattered velvet, obtained a liquid with
which to stain his skin to a dark brown, and then
started out as an Italian street musician. His mas-
querade suit he kept in his room at East Fourth street,
changing therefrom his street dress morning and even-
ing. When in full masquerade he for the first time
sang and played, Giovanni clapped his hands with
delight.

"Will I do, Giovanni.?" asked Dan.

*'Yes, you do very well. You look like my
brother, "

"All right."

Giovanni was puzzled to understand why Dan took
so much pains to enter upon a hard and unprofitable
profession, but Dan did not enlighten him as to his
motive.

He thought it most prudent to keep his secret, even
from his mother. One day he met her on the side-
walk, and began to sing "Viva Garibaldi."

Mrs. Mordaunt listened without a suspicion that it
was her own son, and gave him two pennies, which he
acknowledged by a low bow, and "' Grazia, signora."

"Poor boy! Do you earn much money .'^" she
asked.

"I no understand English," said Dan.

■'I hope his padrone does not beat him," said Mrs,

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF. 255

Mordaunt to herself. ''I hear these poor boys are
much abused. I wonder if I can make him under-
stand? Have you a padrone?" she asked.

"Si, signora, padrone," answered Dan.

" Does he beat you ?"

*'I no understand."

"It is no use; he doesn't understand English.
Here is some more money for you," and she handed
him a five-cent coin.

"It's a wise mother that knows her own child,"
thought Dan. "Hallo! there's Hartley. I'll follow
him."

Hartley boarded a University Place car, and Dan
jumped on also.

"I wonder where he's going ?" thought our hero.

Italian boys so seldom ride that the conductor eyed
Dan with some suspicion.

" Five cents," he demanded.

Dan produced the money.

"I thought you might be expecting to ride for
nothing," said the conductor. "Seems to me you're
flush for an Italian fiddler. "
■ "No understand English," said Dan.

"And I don't understand your lingo."

A charitable lady inside the car chanced to see Dan,
and it occurred to her that she would do him a
service,

256 D^^ DISGUISES HIMSELF.

''Can you sing, my boy ?" she asked.

"I sing a little," answered Dan.

''If the conductor doesn't object, you may sing
while we are on our way. Here's ten cents for you."

Dan bowed and took the money.

"You can sing and play," said the conductor, good-
naturedly.

Dan was not at all desirous of doing this, for Hart-
ley sat only three feet from him, and he feared he
might recognize him, but it would not be in character
to refuse, so he began, and sang his one air, playing
an accompaniment. Several of the passengers handed
him small coins, among them Hartley.

"How well he sings !" said the charitable lady.

"I can't agree with you, ma'am," said Hartley. "I
would rather give him money to stop."

" His voice strikes me as very rich, and the Italian
is such a beautiful language."

Hartley shrugged his shoulders,

"I have heard a good deal better performers even
among the street boys," said Hartley.

"So have I," said Dan to himself "He doesn't
suspect me; I am glad of that."

Hartley remained in the car till it reached the Astor
House, and so, of course, did Dan. In fact. Hartley
was on his way to Brooklyn to pay another installment

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF. 257

to the guardians of the little girl whom he had carried
off. Dan, therefore, was in luck.

Hartley kept on his way to Fulton Ferry, Dan fol-
lowing at a prudent distance.

Had Hartley looked back, he would have suspected
nothing, for he had not penetrated Dan's disguise, and
would therefore have been quite at a loss to under-
stand any connection between the street musician and
himself.

They both boarded the same ferry-boat, and landed
in Brooklyn together.

At this moment Flartley turned round, and his
glance fell upon Dan.

''Hallo! you here?" he said, with surprise.

*'Si, signor," answered Dan, bowing deferentially.

''What brings you to Brooklyn.?"

"I sing. I play," said our hero.

"And vou do both abominably."

"I no understand English," said Dan.

"It is lucky you don't, or you might not like my
compliment."

"Shall I sing 'Viva Garibaldi.?'" asked our hero,
innocently.

"No — good heavens, no ! Fve had enough of your
squeaking. Here, take this money, and don't sing. "

"Si, signor," answered Dan, assuming a look of
bewilderment.

^58

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF.

Hartley prepared to board a car, which was not yet
ready to start Dan rapidly decided that it would not
do for him to follow Hartley any farther. It would
certainly arouse his suspicions. But must he abandon
the pursuit? That would not do either. Looking
about him, his eye fell on a bright-looking newsboy of
about twelve.

*'Do you want to make some money, Johnny?" he
asked.

The boy surveyed him with astonishment.

''Did you speak to me, Garibaldi?" he asked,
jocosely.

"Yes, but I am no Italian," said Dan, rapidly. "I
am on the track of that man, but he suspects me. I
will give you a dollar if you will jump on the car and
find out where he goes."

"Where's the dollar?" asked the boy, cautiously.

'•'Here. Pay your expenses out of it, and I will
pay you back when you report to me."

"Where will I find you.?"

" Here. I will stay till you come back."

" It's a bargain."

"Hurry; the car is starting."

The newsboy ran, jumped on the car, and it
moved on.

" It is the best thing I could do," thought Dan. " I
hope the boy is sharp, and won't lose sight of him. I

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF.

259

feel sure that he had something to do with carrying off
poor little Althea.'"'

For two hours Dan lingered near the ferry, playing
occasionally by way of filling up the time. It seemed
to be a good location, for he received from fifty to
sixty cents from passers-by.

"When hard times come," thought Dan, "I shall
know what to do. I will become an Italian street
singer. "

After two hours the newsboy jumped off an in-
coming car, and approached Dan.

**Did you find out where he went.?" asked Daii,
eagerly.

'* Yes/' answered the boy.

200 DAN Makes a discovery.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

Dan's eyes sparkled with joy at the success of his
plan.

"Now tell me," he said, drawing the newsboy aside
to a place where they would not be overheard.

"First give me my car fare."

"All right. Here's a quarter. Never mind the
change. "

"You've made a fortun' by fiddling, you have," said
the newsboy, in surprise,

"I am not a fiddler. I am a detective."

" The newsboy whistled.

"You're a young one."

" Never mind that. Go ahead with your story."

The newsboy described his following Hartley to
Donovan's.

Hartley went in, and he directly afterward.

"What sort of a place is it T asked Dan.

"It's a saloon."

"Perhaps he only went in for a drink," suggested
Dan, uneasily.

DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY. 261

"No, he didn't call for nothing to drink. I saw
him take out some money and give to the man and
the woman."

"What man and what woman ?"

**They was the Donovans."

"How long did you stay?"

"Ten minutes. I axed old Donovan to buy a pa-
per, and he wouldn't. Then I sat down for a minute,
makin' believe I was tired. They looked at me, but I
didn't appear to be noticin' 'em, and they let me stay."

"Did you see anything of a little girl .?" asked Dan,
eagerly.

"Yes, there was a little gal came in. The woman
called her Katy. "

Dan's spirits sank. It was Mrs. Donovan's daugh-
ter he feared, not the child he was seeking.

"How did she look? How old was she?"

"About fixe or six years old."

He added a description of the little girl which quite
revived Dan's hopes, for it answered in every respect to
Althea.

"Did you hear the little girl say anything?"

"Yes, she told her mother she wanted to see Dan."

Dan's eyes glistened. It was Althea, after all.

"It's all right," he said. "You needn't tell me any
more. You're a trump."

"Have you found out what you want to know?"

262 I>AN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

"Yes. Have you anything to do for the next two
hours ?"

"No."

"Then I'll pay you another dollar to go to the place
with me. I think I could find it myself, but I can't
take any chances. And don't say a word about what
you have seen. "

"I won't. Is this little gal your sister.?"

"She is my adopted sister, and she has been stolen
from us. "

"Then I'd be willing to help you for nothing. I've
got a little sister about her size.. If anybody stole her,
I'd mash him !"

"Come along, then."

The two boys boarded a car, and in forty minutes
got out.

"That's the place," said the newsboy, pointing out
Donovan's, only a few rods away.

"All right. You'd better leave me now, or you
may be remembered, and that would lead them to
suspect me. Here's your money, and thank you."

"I hope you'll find your sister."
"Thank you. If I do, it'll be through your help."
Dan did not at once enter Donovan's. He stopped
in the street, and began to sing "Viva Garibaldi."
Two or three boys gathered about him, and finally a

DAN MAK-RS A DISCOVERY.

263

couple of men. One of them handed him a three-
cent piece.

''Grazio, signer/' said Dan, pulling off his hat.

''What part of Italy do you come from?" asked one
of the men.

"Si, signor, I come from Italy," answered Dan, not
considering it prudent to understand too well.

''Oh, he don't understand you. Come along."

"His hair doesn't look like that of most Italians."

"Pooh! I'd know him for an Italian boy any-
where. "

At this moment the door of the saloon opened,
and Dan, putting his violin under his arm, entered.

264 ^^^ ^^ DISCOVERED.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

DAN IS DISCOVERED.

Donovan had two customers. One was an Irish-
man, the other a German. Both had evidently drank
more than was good for them. Dan looked in vain
for Althea. Mrs. Donovan had taken her up stairs.

"Well, boy, what do you want.?" asked Donovan,
rather roughly.

*'Will you have yer musique.?" asked Dan, uncer-
tain whether he was talking as an Italian boy might be
expected to.

"No; I don't want to hear any fiddle-scraping."

"Shure, let him play a little, Mister Donovan," said
the Irishman.

"Just as you like, "said Donovan, carelessly, "only
I have no money for him. "

"Faith, thin, I have. Here boy, play something. "

Dan struck up his one tune — Viva Garibaldi — but
the Irishman did not seem to care for that.

" Oh, bother ould Garibaldi !" he said. "Can't you
play something else V'

"I wish I could," thought Dan. "Suppose I com-
pose something."

DAN is DISCOVERED.

265

Accordingly he tried to play an air popular enough
at the time, but made bad work of it.

''Stop him! stop him!" exclaimed the German,
who had a better musical ear than the Irishman.
'"Here, lend me your fiddle, boy."

He took the violin, and in spite of his inebriety,
managed to play a German air upon it.

"Shure you bate the boy at his own trade," said
the Irishman. ''You must be dhry. What'll you
have now.?"

The German indicated his preference, and the Irish-
man called for whisky.

"What'll you have, Johnny.?" he asked, addressing
Dan.

*'I no drink," answered our hero, shaking his head.

"Shure you're an Italian wonder, and it's Barnum
ought to hire you."

"I no understand English," said Dan.

''Then you're a hay then," said Pat Moriarty.

He gulped down the whisky, and finding it more
convenient to sit than to stand, fell back upon a
settee.

"I wish Althea would come in," thought Dan.

At that moment a heavy fall was heard in the room
overhead, and a child's shrill scream directly afterward.

"Something's happened to my wife," muttered Don-
ovan. "She's drunk again."

266 DAN IS DISCOVERED.

He hurried up stairs, and the German followed.
This gave Dan an excuse for running up, too

Mrs. Donovan had been drinking more copiously
than usual. While in this condition she imprudently
got upon a chair to reach a pitcher from an upper shelf.
Her footing was uncertain, and she fell over, pitcher in
hand, the chair sharing in the downfall.

When her husband entered the room she was lying
flat on her back, grasping the handle of the pitcher,
her eyes closed, and her breathing stertorious. Althea,
alarmed, stood over her, crying and screaming.

"The old woman's taken too much," said Dono-
van. "Get up, you divil!"he shouted, leaning over
his matrimonial partner. "Ain't you ashamed of
yourself, now.?"

Mrs. Donovan opened her eyes, and stared at him
vacantly.

"Where am IT' she inquired.

"On your back, you old fool, where you deserve
to be."

"It's the whisky," murmured the fallen lady.

"Of course it is. Why can't you drink dacent like
me.? Shure it's a purty example youje settin' to the
child. Ain't you ashamed to lie here in a hape before
them gintlemen.?"

This called Althea's attention to the German and

*'0h, Dan! Have you come to take me away?" Althea exclaimed.,

Page 267.

DAN IS DISCOVERED. 267

Dan. In spite of Dan's disguise, she recognized him
with a cry of joy.

*'0h, Dan! have you come to take me away?" she
exclaimed, dashing past Donovan, and clasping her
arms round the supposed Italian.

''Hillo! what's up?" exclaimed Donovan, looking
at the two in surprise.

''Oh, it's my brother Dan," exclaimed Althea.
"You'll take me away, won't you, Dan? How funny
you look ! Where did you get your fiddle ?"

*'So that's your game, my young chicken, is it?"
demanded Donovan, seizing our hero roughly by the
shoulder. Then pulling off Dan's hat, he added :
''You're no more Italian than I am."

Dan saw that it would be useless to keep up the
deceit any longer. He looked Donovan full in the
face, and said, firmly :

"You are right, Mr. Donovan. I have come here
for my sister. "

268 UNPLEASANT QUARTERS.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

UNPLEASANT QUARTERS.

Donovan's red face turned fairly purple with rage.

"Well, I'll be blowed !" he said, adding an oath oi
two. ** You're a bold little pup ! You dare to insult
me ! Why, I could crush you with my little finger."

''I have not insulted you," said Dae. "I have
only come for my sister."

"I don't know anything about your sister. So you
can go about your business."

"That little girl is my adopted sister," said Dan,
pointing to Althea. "Ask her if she doesn't know
me."

"That is my daughter, Katy Donovan," said the
saloon keeper.

"No, I am not," said Althea, beginning to cry. "I
want to go away with my brother Dan. '

"Shut up, you little jade !" S'^'id Donovan, roughly.
"Mrs. Donovan," (by this time^ she was on her feet,
looking on in a dazed sort of way), "is not this our
little Katy?"

"Shure it is,' she answered.

UNPLEASANT QUARTERS. 269

''You see, young man, you're mistaken. You can
leave," and Donovan waved his hand triumphantly.

''That's too thin, Mrs. Donovan!" said Dan, pro-
voked. "That don't go down. I can bring plenty
of proof that Althea was until a week since living with
my mother."

"That for your proof!" said Donovan, contemptu-
ously snapping his fingers.

"I know who stole her, and who brought her to
this house," continued Dan.

Donovan started. The boy knew more than he had
expected.

"The same man has been here to-day," added Dan.

"You lie !" retorted Donovan, but he looked un-
easv.

"You know that I tell the truth. How much does
he pay you for taking care of the girl ?"

"Enough of this i" roared the saloon keeper. "I
can't waste my time talkin' wid you. Will you clear
out now.?''

"No, I won't, unless Althea goes with me," said
Dan, firmly.

"You won't, then ! We'll see about that," and
Donovan, making ^ lUsh, seized Dan in his arms, and
carried him down stairs, despite our hero's resistance.

"I'll tache you to come here insultin* your bet-
ters !" he exclaimed,

270 UNPLEASANT QUARTERS.

Dan struggled to get away, but though a strong boy,
he was not a match for a powerful man, and could not
effect his deliverance. The Irishman already referred
to was still upon the settee.

"What's up, Donovan?" he asked, as the saloon-
keeper appeared with his burden. "What's the lad
been doin'.?"

"What's he been doin', is it.? He's been insultin'
me to my face — that's what the Donovans won't stand.
Open the trap-door, Barney."

"What for?"

"Don't trouble me wid your questions, but do as I
tell you. You shall know afterward."

Not quite willingly, but reluctant to offend Dono-
van, who gave him credit for the drinks, Barney raised
a trap-door leading to the cellar below.

There was a ladder for the convenience of those
wishing to ascend and descend, but Donovan was not
disposed to use much ceremony with the boy who had
offended him. He dropped him through the opening,
Dan by good luck falling on his feet.

"That's the best place for you, you young med-
dler!" he said. "You'll find it mighty comfortable,
and I wish you much joy. I won't charge you no rint,
and that's an object in these hard times — eh, Barney ?"

"To be sure it is," said Barney; "but all the same,

UNPLEASANT QUARTERS. 27 1

Donovan, I'd rather pay rint up stairs, if I had my
choice !"

"He hasn't the choice," said Donovan triumphant-
ly. *'Good-by to you !" and he let the trap fall.

"What's it all about now, Donovan.?" asked Barney.

"He wanted to shtale my Katy," said Donovan.

"What, right before your face.?" asked Barney,
puzzled.

"Yes, shure I What'll you take to drink.?" asked
Donovan, not caring to go into particulars.

Barney indicated his choice with alacrity, and, after
drmking, was hardly in a condition to pursue his in-
quiri*^S.

2JZ DA^ DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

DAN DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS.

Dan found himself at first bewildered and confused
by his sudden descent into the cellar. As his eyes be-
came accustomed to the darkness, he was able to get
an idea of his surroundings. It was a common cellar
with an earthen floor. Ranged along one side was a
row of kegs, some contaming whisky, others empty.
Besides, there were a few boxes, and odds and ends
which had been placed here to get them out of the
way.

"Not a very cheerful-looking place," thought Dan,
"though I do get it rent free."

He sat down on a box, and began to consider his
position. Was there any way of escape.? The walls
were solid, and although there was a narrow window,
consisting of a row of single panes, it was at the top
of the cellar, and not easily accessible. He might
indeed reach it by the ladder, but he would have to
break the glass and crawl through, a mode of escape
likely to be attended by personal risk.

"No, that won't do," thought Dan. "At any rate,
I won't try it till other things fail, "

DAN DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS.

273

Meanwhile Donovan, in the bar-room above, was in
high good humor. He felt that he had done a sharp
thing, and more than once chuckled as he thought of
his prisoner below. Indeed he could not forbear,
after about half an hour, lifting the trap and calling
down stairs :

''Hallo, there!"

''Hallo!" said Dan, coolly.

"What are you doin'?"

"Sitting on a box."

"How do you like it?" chuckled Donovan.

"Come down and see."

"You're an impudent jackanapes!" retorted Dono-
van, wrathfuily. "You'll get enough of it before
you're through."

"So will you," answered Dan, boldly.

"I'll take the risk," chuckled Donovan. "Do you
know what you remind me of."

"Suppose you tell me."

"You're like a rat in a trap."

"Not exactly," answered Dan, as a bright thought
dawned upon him.

"Why not.?"

"Because a rat can do no harm, and I can."
It occurred to Donovan that Dan might have some
matches in his pocket, and was momentarily alarmed

274

DAN DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS.

at the thought that our hero might set the house
on fire.

" Have you matches with you?" he asked.

"No,' answered Dan.

"If you had," said the saloon-keeper, relieved, "it
would do you no good to set a fire. You would only
burn yourself up."

"I don't mean to set the house on fire," said Dan,
composedly.

"Then you may do ycur worst. You can't scare
me.

"Can't I.?" returned Dan, rising from his seat on
the box.

"What are you going to do?" asked Donovan, fol-
lowing with his glance the boy's motion.

"I'll tell you," said Dan. "I'm going to take the
spigot out of them whisky-kegs, and let the whisky
run out on the floor."

"Don't you do it!" exclaimed the saloon-keeper,
now thoroughly frightened.

"Then let me up."

"I won't."

"All right. You must take the consequences."

As he spoke Dan dextrously pulled the spigot from
a keg, and Donovan, to his dismay, heard the precious
liquid — precious in his eyes — pouring out upon the
floor.

DAN DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS. 27c

With an exertion he raised the trap-door, hastily
descended the ladder, and rushed to the keg to
replace the spigot.

Meanwhile Dan ran up the ladder, pulled it after
him, and made his late jailer a captive.

''Put down the ladder, you young rascal!" roared
Donovan, when, turning from his work, he saw how
the tables had been turned.

*'It wouldn't be convenient just yet," answered
Dan, coolly.

He shut the trap-door, hastily lugged the ladder to
the rear of the house (unobserved, for there were no
customers present), then dashed up stairs and beck-
oned to Althea to follow him. There was no obstacle,
for Mrs. Donovan was stupefied by liquor.

Putting on her things, the little girl hastily and
gladly obeyed.

As they passed through the saloon, Donovan's exe-
crations and shouts were heard proceeding from the
cellar.

"What's that, Dan.?" asked Althea, trembling.

** Never you mind, Althea," said Dan. 'Til tell you
later."

The two children hurried to the nearest horse-car,
which luckily came up at the moment, and jumped on
board.

2']^ DAISr DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS.

Dan looked back with a smile at the saloon, saying
to himself:

''I rather think, Mr. Donovan, you've found your
match this time. I hope you'll enjoy the cellar as
much as I did."

In about an hour and a half Dan, holding Althea
by the hand, triumphantly led her into his mother's
presence.

'"I've brought her back, mother," he said.

'*0h, my dear, dear little girl!" exclaimed Mrs.
Mordaunt, joyfully. '*I thought I should never,
never see you again. How did you find her,
Dan.?"

But we will not wait to hear a twice-told tale.
Rather let us return to Donovan, where the unhappy
proprietor is still a captive in his own cellar. Here
he remained till his cries attracted the attention
of a wondering customer, who finally lifted the trap-
door.

"What are you doin' down there.?" he asked,
amazed.

*' Put down the ladder and let me up first of all."

*'I don't see any ladder."

" Look round, then. I suppose the cursed boy has
hidden it."

It was a considerable time before the ladder was

DAN DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS, 277

.bund. Then the saloon-keeper emerged from his
prison in a very bad humor.

"How did you get shut up there?" asked his
liberator.

"What business is it of yours.?" demanded Dono-
van, irritably."

"I wish I had left you there," said the customer,
with justifiable indignation. "This is your gratitude
for my trouble, is it.?"

"Excuse me, but I'm so mad with that cursed boy.
What'll you take .? It's my treat. "

"Come, that's talking," said the placated customer.
"What boy do you mean?"

"Wait a minute," said Donovan, a sudden fear pos-
sessing him.

He rushed up stairs and looked for Althea.

His wife was lying on the floor, breathing heavily,
but the little girl was gone.

"The boy's got her! What a cursed fool I have
been !" exclaimed Donovan, sinking into a chair.

Then, in a blind fury with the wife who didn't
prevent the little girl's recapture, he seized a pail of
water and emptied it over the face of the prostrate
woman.

Mrs. Donovan came to, and berated her husband
furiously.

278 DAN DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS.

"Serves you right, you jade !" said the affectionate
husband.

He went down stairs feeling better. He had had
revenge on somebody.

It was certainly an unlucky day for the Donovans.

HARTLEY SURPRISED.

279

CHAPTER XL.

HARTLEY SURPRISED.

After calling at Donovan's, on the day when Dan
recovered Althea, John Hartley crossed the Courtlandt
street ferry, and took a train to Philadelphia with
Blake, his accomplice in the forged certificates. The
two confederates had raised some Pennsylvania railway
certificates, which they proposed to put on the Phila-
delphia market. «■

They spent several days in the Quaker City, and thus
Hartley heard nothing of the child's escape.

Donovan did nor see fit to inform him, as this
would stop the weekly remittance for the child's board,
and, moreover, draw Hartley's indignation down upon
his head.

One day, in a copy of the New York Herald^ which
he purchased at the news-stand in the Continental
Hotel, Hartley observed the arrival of Harriet Vernon
at the Fifth Aver^^ie Hotel.

*' I thought she would come," he said to himself,
with a smile " I have her in my power at last. She
must submit to my terms, or lose sight of the child
altogether. "

28o HARTLEY SURPRISED.

"Blake," he said, aloud, ''I must take the first
train to New York."

"Why, what's up, partner?" asked Blake, in sur-
prise. "Anything gone wrong ?"

" On the contrary, I see a chance of making a good
haul."

"How.?"

"Not in our line. It's some private business of
my own. "

"All right. I wish you success. When will you
return .?"

"That I can't exactly say. I will write or tele-
graph you."

In the evening of the same day Mrs, Vernon sat in
her room at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. A servant brought
up a card bearing the name of John Hartley.

"He is prompt," she said to herself, with a smile.
"Probably he has not heard of Althea's escape from
the den to which he carried her. I will humor him,
in that case, and draw him out. "

"I will see the gentleman in the parlor," she
said.

Five minutes later she entered the ladies' parlor.
Hartley rose to receive her with a smile of conscious
power, which told Harriet Vernon that he was igno-
rant of the miscarriage of his plans.

"I heard of your unexpected arrival, Mrs. Ver-

HARTLEY SURPRISED. 28 1

non," he commenced, ''and have called to pay my
respects. "

''Your motive is appreciated, John Hartley," she
said, coldly. ' 'I expected to see you. "

•'That's pleasant," he said, mockingly. " May I
beg to apologize for constraining you to cross the At-
lantic?"

"Don't apologize; you have merely acted out your
nature. "

"Probably that is not meant to be complimentary.
However, it can't be helped. "

"I suppose you have something to say to me, John
Hartley," said Mrs. Vernon, seating herself. "Pray
proceed. "

"You are quite right. I wrote you that I had fer-
reted out your cunningly devised place of concealment
for my daughter. "

"You did."

He looked at her a little puzzled. She seemed very
cool and composed, whereas he expected she would
be angry and disturbed.

"We may as well come to business at once," he
said. "If you wish to recover the charge of your
ward, you must accede to my terms."

"State them." -

"They are expressed in my letter to you. You

2 83 HARTLEY SURPRISED.

must agree to pay me a thousand dollars each
quarter. "

"It strikes me you are exorbitant in your de-
mands. "

''I don't think so. At any rate, the money won't
come out of you. It will come from my daughter's
income."

"So you would rob your daughter, John Hartley.?"

"Rob my daughter!" he exclaimed, angrily. "She
will have enough left. Is she to live in luxury,
and with thousands to spare, while I, her only liv-
ing parent, wander penniless and homeless about the
world. "

"I might sympathize with you, if I did not know
how you have misused the gifts of fortune, and em<..
bittered the existence of my poor sister. As it is, it
only disgusts me. "

"I don't want you sympathy, Harriet Vernon,"
he said, roughly. "I want four thousand dollars a
year. "

"Suppose I decline to let you have it?"

"Then you must take the consequences," he said»
quickly.

"What are to be the consequences.?" she asked,
quietly.

"That you and Althea will be forever separated
She shall never see you again. "

HARTLEY SURPRISED. 283

He looked at her intently to see the effect of his
threat.

Harriet Vernon was as cool and imperturbable as
ever.

''Have you been in New York for a week past?'
she asked, as he thought, irrelevantly.

"Why do you ask?"

* ' I have a reason. "

*'No, I have not."

*' So I thought."

** Why did you think so.?"

"Because you don't appear to know what has hap-
pened. "

"What has happened?" he asked, uneasily.

"Mr. Donovan can tell you. As for me, I bid you
good-evening. "

A wild fear took possession of him.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, hurriedly.

"I mean, John Hartley, that you are not as shrewd
as you imagine. I mean that a boy has foiled you ;
and while you were doubtless laughing at his sim-
plicity, he has proved more than a match for you.
You have no claim upon me, and I must decline your
disinterested proposal. "

She left the room, leaving him crest-fallen and
stupefied,

284 HARTLEY SURPRISED.

"Has Donovan betrayed me?" he muttered,
will soon find out."

He started for Brooklyn immediately, and t.<>ward
eleven o'clock entered the saloon at Donovan's.

"Where is the child.?" he demanded, sternlv.

The rubicund host turned pale.

"She's gone," he cried, "but I couldn't b-^lp it,
Mr. Hartley. On my honor, I couldn't. "

"How did it happen.? Tell me at once."

The story was told, Donovan ending by irvoking
curses upon the boy who had played such a trick
upon him.

"You're a fool!" said Hartley, roughly. "lam
ashamed of you, for allowing a boy to get the best
of you. '"

"That boy's a fox," said Donovan. " He's a match
for the old one, he is. I'd like to break his neck
for him."

"It's not too late. I may get hold of the girl
again," mused Hartley, as he rose to go. " If I
do, I won't put her in charge of such a dunder-
head."

He left Donovan's and returned to New Vork, but
he had hardly left the Fulton ferry-boat when he was
tapped on the shoulder by an officer.

"I want vou, ' he said.

"What for?" asked Hartley, nervously.

HARTLEY SURPRISED. 285

"A little financial irregularity, as they call it in
Wall street. You may know something about some
raised railroad certificates !"

*•' Confusion !" muttered Hartley. **Luck is dead
against me. "

2 86 DAN IS ADOPTED.

CHAPTER XLI.

DAN IS ADOPTED.

The morning papers contained an account of John
Hartley's arrest, and the crime with which he was
charged.

Harriet Vernon read it at the breakfast- table with an
interest which may be imagined.

"I don't like to rejoice in any man's misfortune,"
she said to herself, "but now I can have a few years
of peace. My precious brother-in-law will doubtless
pass the next few years in enforced seclusion, and I
can have a settled home."

Directly after breakfast, she set out for the humble
home of her niece. She found all at home, for Dan
was not to go back to business till Monday.

"Well, my good friend," she said, "I have news
for you. "

"Good news, I hope," said Dan.

"Yes, good news. Henceforth I can have Althea
with me. The obstacle that separated us is re-
moved."

Mrs. Mordaunt's countenance fell, and Dan looked

DAN IS ADOPTED. 287

sober. It was plain that Althea was to be taken from
them, and they had learned to love her.

'^I am very glad," faltered Mrs. Mordaunt.

"You don't look glad," returned Mrs. Vernon.

*'You see we don't like to part vvith Althea," ex-
plained Dan, who understood his mother's feelings.

"Who said you were to part with the child.?" asked
Mrs. Vernon, bluntly.

"I thought you meant to take her from us."
"Oh, I see. Your mistake is a natural one, for I
have not told you my plans. I mean to take a house
up town, install Mrs. Mordaunt as my housekeeper
and friend, and adopt this young man (indicating
Dan), provided he has no objection."

"How kind you are, Mrs. Vernon," ejaculated Mrs.
Mordaunt.

"No, I am selfish. I have plenty of money, and
no one to care for, or to care for me. I have taken a
fancy to you all, and I am quite sure that we can all
live happily together. Althea is my niece, and you,
Dan, may call me aunt, too, if you like. Is it a bar-
gain?"

Dan offered her his hand in a frank, cordial way,
which she liked.

"So it is settled, then," she said, in a pleased voice,
"I ought to warn you," she added, "that I have the

288 J^A^ JS ADOPTED.

reputation of being ill-tempered. You may get tired
of living with me."

*' We'll take the risk," said Dan, smiling.

Mrs. Vernon, whose habit it was to act promptly,
engaged a hous^ on Madison avenue, furnished it
without regard to expense, and in less than a fort-
night, installed her fnends in it. Then she had a talk
with Dan about his plans.

" Do you wish to remain in your place," she asked,
"or would you like to obtain a better education
first r

*'To obtain an education," said Dan, promptly.

''Then give notice to your employer of yuur inten-
tion. "

Dan did so,

Mrs. Vernon in a second interview informed him
that besides defraying his school expenses, she should
give him an allowance of fifty dollars a month for his
own personal needs.

"May I give a part of it to my mother.?" asked
Dan.

"No."

His countenance fell, but Mrs. Vernon smiled.

"You don't ask why I refuss,'' she said.

"I suppose you have a good reason," said Dan,
dubiously.

"My reason is that I shall pay your mother double

DAN IS ADOPTED. 289

this sum. Unless she is very extravagant it ought to
be enough to defray her expenses.''

''How Hberal you are, Mrs. Vernon!" exclaimed
Dan, in fresh astonishment.

''Mrs. Vernon !"

*'Aunt Harriet, I mean."

''That is better."

All these important changes in the position of the
Mordaunts were unknown to their old friends, who,
since their loss of property, had given them the cold
shoulder.

One day Tom Carver, in passing the house, saw
Dan coming down the steps quite as handsomely
dressed as himself. His surprise and curiosity were
aroused.

"Are you running errands .?" he asked.

"No. What makes you think so.?" returned Dan,
smiling.

"I didn't know what else could carry you to such a
house."

"Oh, that's easily explained," said Dan. "I live
here."

"You live there !" ejaculated Tom.

"Yes."

"Oh, I see. You are in the employ of the
family."

290 DAN IS ADOPTFD.

**Not exactly," said Dan. '*I have nothing to
do."

** Does your mother live there V

^'Yes."

*'You don't mean to say she boards there.?"

*'We are living with my aunt."

"Is your aunt rich.?" asked Tom, in a more defer-
ential tone.

"I believe she is. At any rate she gives me a hand-
some allowance."

' ' You don't say so ! How much does she give
you.?"

** Fifty dollars a month."
''And you don't have anything to do.?"
"Only to study. I am going back to school."
"What a lucky fellow!" exclaimed Tom, envious-
ly. "Why, my father only allows me three dollars a
week. "

"I could get along on that. I don't need as much
as my aunt allows me."

"I say, Dan," said Tom, in the most friendly
terms, "I'm awfully hard up. Could you lend me
five dollars.?"

' ' Yes, " said Dan, secretly amused with the change
in Tom's manner.

"You always were a good fellow !" said Tom, link-

DAN IS ADOPTED. 291

ing his arm in Dan's. 'Tm very glad you're rich
again. You must come to see me often. "

"Thank you," said Dan, smiling, *'but I'm afraid
you have forgotten something."

''What do you mean.?"

* ' You know I used to be a newsboy in front of the
Astor House."

''That don't matter."

"And you might not care to associate with a news-
boy."

"Well, you are all right now," said Tom, magnan-
imously.

"You didn't always think so, Tom."

"I always thought you were a gentleman, Dan. I
am coming to see you soon. You must introduce me
to your aunt. "

"I suppose it's the way of the world," thought Dan.
"It is lucky that there are some true friends who stick
by us through thick and thin."

Mrs. Mordaunt had an experience similar to Dan's.
Her old acquaintances, who, during her poverty never
seemed to recognize her when they met, gradually
awoke to the consciousness of her continued existence,
and left cards. She received them politely, but rated
their professions of friendship at their true value.
They had not been "friends in need," and she could
not count them "friends indeed."

292 CONCLUSION,

CHAPTER XLII.

CONCLUSION.

Six years rolled bv, bringing with them many-
changes. The little family on Madison avenue kept
together. ]\Irs. Vernon was never happier than now.
She had a hearty love for young people, and enjoyed
the growth and development of her niece Althea, and
Dan, whom she called her nephew and loved no less.

Dan is now a young man. He completed his
preparation for college, and graduated with high
honors. He is no less frank, handsome, and self"
reliant than when as a boy he sold papers in front
of the Astor House for his mother's support. He
looks forward to a business life, and has accepted an
invitation to go abroad to buy goods in London and
Paris for his old firm. He was, in fact, preparing to
go when a mysterious letter was put in his hands. It
ran thus :

"Mr. Daniel Mordaunt : — I shall take ii as a great favor
if you will come to the St. Nicholas Hotel this evening, and
inquire for me. I am sick, or I would not trouble you. Do not
fail. I have to speak to you on a matter of great importance.

"John Davis."

CONCLUSION.

293

*'John Davis !" repeated Dan. ''I don't know of
any one of that name. Do you, mother?''

"I cannot think of any one/' said Airs. Mordaunt.
''I hope you won't go, Dan," she added, anxiously;
*'it may be a trap laid by a wicked and designing
man. "

"You forget that I am not a boy any longer,
mother," said Dan, smihng. "I think I can defend
myself, even if Mr. Davis is a wicked and designing
person. "

Nevertheless Airs. Alordaunt saw Dan depart with
anxiety. To her he was still a boy, though in the eyes
of others an athletic young man.

On inquiring for Mr. Davis at the hotel, Dan was
ushered into a room en the third floor. Seated in an
arm-chair was an elderly man, weak and wasted, appa-
rently in the last stages of consumption. He eyed Dan
eagerly.

''You are Daniel Alordaunt?" he asked.

''Yes, sir."

"Son of Lawrence Alordaunt.?"

• ' Yes. Did you know my father .?"

The old man sighed.

*' It would have been well if he had not known me,
for I did him a great wrong. "

" You I — John Davis !" said Dan, tr}'ing to connect
the name with his father.

^94

CONCLUSION.

"That is not my real name. You see before you
Robert Hunting, once your father's book-keeper."

Dan's handsome face darkened, and he said, bit-
terly :

''You killed my father!"

*' Heaven help me, I fear I did !" sighed Davis — to
call him by his later name.

°'The money of which you robbed him caused him
to fail, and failure led to his death."

"I have accused myself of this crime oftentimes,"
moaned Davis. "Don't think that the money brought
happiness, for it did not. "

"Where have you been all these years.?"

"First, I went to Europe. There I remained a
year. From Europe I went to Brazil, and engaged in
business in Rio Janeiro. A year since I found my
health failing, and have come back to New York to
die. But before I die I want to make what reparation
I can."

"You cannot call my father back to me," said Dan,
sadly.

"No; but I can restore the money that I stole.
That is the right word — stole. I hope you and your
mother have not suffered .?"

"We saw some hard times, but for years we have
lived in comfort."

"I am glad of that. Will you bring a lawyer to

CONCLUSION/. 295

me to-morrow evening? I want to make restitution.
Then I shall die easier."

"You might l^eep every dollar if you would bring
my father back."

"Would that I could ! I must do what I can."

The next evening Davis transferred to Dan and his
mother property amounting to fifty thousand dollars,
in payment of what he had taken, with interest, and
in less than a month later he died, Dan taking upon
himself the charge of the funeral. His trip to Europe
was deferred, and having now capital to contribute, he
was taken as junior partner into the firm where he had
once filled the position of office-boy.

Tom Carver is down in the world. His father had
failed disastrously, and Tom is glad to accept a minor
clerkship from the boy at whom he once sneered.

Julia Rogers has never lost I*ier preference for Dan.
It is whispered that they are engaged, or likely soon to
be, and Dan's assiduous attentions to the young lady
make the report a plausible one.

John Hartley was sentenced to a term of years in
prison. Harriet Vernon dreaded the day of his release,
being well convinced that he would seize the earliest
opportunity to renew his persecutions. She had about
made up her mind to buy him off, when she received
intelligence that he was carried off by fever, barely a
month before the end of his term. It was a sad end

296 CONCLUSION.

of a bad life, but she could not regret him. Althea
was saved the knowledge of her father's worthlessness.
She was led to believe that he had died when she was
a little girl.

And now the curtain must fall. Dan, the young
detective, has entered upon a career of influence and
prosperity. The hardships of his earlier years con-
tributed to strengthen his character, and give him that
self-reliance of which the sons of rich men so often
stand in need. A similar experience might have bene-
fited Tom Carver, whose lofty anticipations have been
succeeded by a very humble reality. Let those boys
who are now passing through the discipline of poverty
and privation, take courage and emulate the example
of ^'D^n, the Detective."

THE END.

A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS

For Young People

BY POPULAR WRITERS,

97-99-101 Reade Street, New York.

Bonnie Prince Chariie : A Tale of Fontenoy and Cullodea. By

G-. A. Henty. Wiih 12 full-page Illustrations by 'L.okdon

Browne. 12mo, cloth, price |1.00.

The adventures of the son of a Scotch officer 'I'C ' . r nch service.
The boy, brought up by a Glasgow bailie, is a rested for aiding a
Jacobite agent, escapes, is wrecked on the French coast, reaches
Paris, and servesj with the French army at Dettingen. He kills
his father's foe in p duel, and escaping to the coast, shares the
adventures of Prince Charlie, but finally settles happily in Scot-
land.

"Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of ' Quentin Durward.' The lad's
journey across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, make up as good a nar-
rative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment and
variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself." — Spectator.

With Clive in India ; or, the Beginnings of an Empire. By
G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon
Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The period between the landing of Clive as a young writer in
India and the close of his career was critical aad eventful in the
extreme. At its coinmenoement the English were traders existing
on sufferance of the native princes. At its close they were masters
of Bengal and f th^i greater part of Southern India. The author
has given a full and accurate account of the events of that stirring
time, and battles and sieg.-s follow each other in rapid succession,
while he combines with his narrative a tale of daring and adven-
iure, which gives a lifelike interest, to the volume.

" He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital importance,
and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself is deeply
interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted with the volume."—
Scotsman.

The Lion of the North : A Tale of Giistavus Adolphus and the
Wars of Religion. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illus-
trations by John Schonberg. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
In this story Mr. Hen y gives the history of the first rart of the
Thirty Years' War. The issue had its importance, which has ex-
tended to the present day, as it established religious freedom
in Germany. The army of the chi-alrous king of Sweden was
largely composed of Scotchmen, and among these was the hero of
the story.

" The tale is a clever and instructive piece of history, and as boys may he
trustefi to read i*'X)nscientiously. they can hardly faii to be profit©^ ' " --Tirr^es,

A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

The Dragon and the Raven ; or, The Days of King Alfred. By
G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by C. J. Stani-
LAND, R.I. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

In this story the author gives an arcount of the fierce struggle
between Saxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents
a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was
reduced by the ravages of the sea-wolves. The hero, a young
Saxon thane, takes part in all the battles fought by King Alfred.
He is driven from his home, takes to the sea and resists the Danes
on their own element, and being pursued by them up the Seine,
is present at the long and desperate siege of Paris.

" Treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader." — Athenceum.

The Young Carthaginian : A Story of the Times of Hannibal.
By Gt. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by C. J. Stani-
LAND, R.I. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Boys reading the history of the Punic Wars have seldom a keen
appreciation of the merits of the contest. That it was at first a
struggle for empire, and afterward for existence on the part of
Carthage, that Hannibal was a great and skillful general, that he
defeated the Romans at Trebia, Lake Trasimeuus, and Cannae,
and all but took Rome, represents pretty nearly the sum total of
their knowledge. To let them know more about this momentous
struggle for the empire of the world Mr. Henty has written this
story, which not only gives in graphic style a brilliant descrip-
tion of a most interesting period of history, but is a tale of ex-
citing adventure sure to secure the interest of the reader.

" Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays the
interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a {stream whose current
varies in direction, but never loses its force." — Saturday Review.

In Freedom's Cause : A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By G. A.
Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne.
13mo, cloth, price $1.00.

In this story the author relates the stirring tale of the Scottish
War of Independence. The extraordinary valor and personal
prowess of Wallace and Bruce rival the deeds of the mythical
heroes of chivalry, and indeed at one time Wallace was ranked
with these legendary personages. The researches of modern
historians have shown, however, that he was a living, breathing
man — and a valiant champion. The hero of the tale fought under
both Wallace and Bruce, and while the strictest historical accuracy
has been maintained with respect to public events, the work is
full of "hairbreadth 'scapes" and wild adventure.

" It is written in the author's best style. Full of the wildest and most re
markable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he hai
begun it. will not wilUngly put od one side." — The Schoolmaster^

A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

With Lee in Virginia : A Story of the American Civil War. By
Q. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon
Beowne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The story of a young Virginian planter, who, after bravely
proving his sympathy with the slaves of brutal masters, serves
with no less courage and enthusiasm under Lee and Jackson
through the most exciting events of the struggle. He has many
hairbreadth escapes, is seveal times wcunded and twice t^ken
prisoner; but his courage and readiness and, in two cases, the
devotion of a black servant and of a runaway slave whom he had
assisted, bring him safely through all difficulties

" One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet written. The
picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic incidents are
skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm ol^ the £tory." —
Svandard.

By England's Aid ° or. The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-

1604). By Go A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by

Alfred Pearse, and Maps, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The story of two English lads uho go to Holland as pages in
the service of one of " the fighting Veres." After many adven.
cures by sea and land, one of the lads finds himself on board a
Spanish ship at the time of the defeat of the Armada, and escapes
only to fall into the hands of the Corsairs, He is successful in
getting back to Spain under the protection of a wealthy merchant,
and regains his native country after the capture of Cadiz.

" It is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with stirring inci-
dent and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of the scene are
finely reproduced. The illustrations add to its attractiveness.*"— ^osion
Gazette.

By Right of Conquest ; or, With Cortez in Mexico. By G. A,
Henty. With full-page Illustrations by W. S. Stagey, and
Two Maps. 12mo, cloth, price $1.50.

The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under
the magnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightly ranked
among the most romantic and daring exploits in history. With
this as the groundwork of his story Mr. Henty has interwoven the
adventures of an English youth, Roger Hawkshaw, the sole sur*
vivor of the good ship Swan, which had sailed from a Devon port
to challenge the mercantile supremacy of the Spaniards in the
^ew World. He is beset by many perils among the natives, but
Is saved by his own judgment and strength, and by the devotion
of an Aztec princess. At last by a ruse he obtains the protection
of the Spaniards, and after the fall of Mexico h« succeeds in re-
gaining his native shore, with a fortune and a charming Aztec
bride.

" ' By Right of Conquest ' is the nearest approach to a perfectly successful
historical tale that Mr, Henty has yet published."— Academy,

A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

In the Reign of Terror : The Adventures of a Westminster Boy.

By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Jo Schon-

BERG. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Harry Sandwith, a Westminster boy, becomes a resident at the
chateau of a French marquis, and aft; r various adventures accom-
panies the family to Paris at the crisis of the Revolution. Im-
prisonment and death reduce their number, and the hero finds
himself beset by perils with the three young daughters of the
house in his charge. After hairbreadth escapes they reach Nan-
tes. There the ^irls are condemned to death in the coflBn-ships,
but are saved by the unfailing courage of their boy protector.

"Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr.
Henty 's retord. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril
they depict. . . . The story is one of Mr. Henty 's best.''''— Saturday
Review.

With Wolfe in Canada ; or, The Winning of a Continent. By
G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon
Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

In the present volume Mr. Henty gives an account of the strug-
gle between Britain and France for supremacy in the North
American continent. On the issue of this war depended not only
the destinies of North America, but to a large extent those of the
mother countries themselves. The fall of Quebec decided that
the Anglo-Saxon race should predominate in the New World;
that Britain, and not France, should take the lead among the
nations of Europe; and that English and American commerce, the
English language, and English literature, should spread right
round the globe.

" It is not only a lesson in history as instructively as it is graphically told,
but also a deeply interesting and often thrilling tale of adventure and peril by
flood and ^el^.''''— Illustrated London News.

True to the Old Flag : A Tale of the American War of Inde-
pendence. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by
Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
In this story the author has gone to the accounts of oflBcers who
took part in the conflict, and lads will find that in no war in which
American and British soldiers have been engaged did they behave
"with greater courage and good conduct. The historical portion of
the book being accompanied with numerous thrilling adventures
with the redskins on the shores of hake Huron, a story of exciting
interest is interwoven with the general narrative and carried
through the book.

" Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers during
the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son of an
American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-
skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to us by the ex-
ploits of Hawkeye and Chingacngook."— 27ie Times.

A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

The Lion of St. Mark : A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth

Century. By G. A. Heistty. With full-page Illustrations by

Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A story of Venice at a period when her strength ami splendor

were put to the severest tests. The hero displays a fine sense and

manliness which carry him safely through an atmosphere of in-

trigue, crime, and bloodshed. He contributes largely to the vic=

tories of the Venetians at Porto d'Anzo and Chioggia, and finally

wins the hand of the daughter of one of the chief men of Venice

' ' Every boy should read ' The Lion of St. Mark,'' Mr. Henry has never pro
iuced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivaciouSe" — Satur
day lleview.

A Final Reckoni:ig;: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By G. A
Henty. With full-page Illustrations by W. B. Wollen
12mo, cloth, price |1. 00,

The hero, a young English lad. after rather a stormy boyhood,
emigrates to Australia, and gets employment as an officer in the
mounted police. A few years of active work on the frontier,
where he has many a brush with both natives and bushrangers,
gain him promotion to a captaincy, and he eventually settles
down to the peaceful life of a squatter,

" Mr. Henty has never published a more readable, a more carefully ccn-
etructed. or a better written story than this " — Spectator.

Under Drake's Flag : A Tale of the Spanish Main. By G. A.

Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordois Browne.

13mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A story of the days when England and Spain struggled for the

supremacy of the sea. The heroes sail as lads with Drake in the

Pacific expedition, and in his great voyage of circumnavigation.

The historical portion of the story is absolutely to be relied upon,

but this will perhaps be less attractive than the great variety of

exciting adventure through which the young heroes pass in the

course of their voyages.

" A book of adventure, where the hero meets with experience enough, one
W-ould think, to turn his hair gray.'' — Harper'' s Monthly Magazine.

By Sheer Pluck : A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A. Henty.

With full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mOf

cloth price $1 00.

The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the de-
tails of the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness.
His hero, after many exciting adventures in the interior, is de-
tained a prisoner by the king just before the outbreak of the war,
but escapes, and accompanies the English expedition on their
march to Coomassie.

" Mr. Henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys' stories. ' By Sheer
Piuck ' will be eagerly read."— ^t^ewcewr??,.

A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

By Pike and Dyke : A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic.
By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Maynarb
Brown, and 4 Maps. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
In this story Mr. Henty traces the adventures and brave deeds
of an English boy in the household of the ablest man of his age — =
William the Silent. Edward Martin, the son of an English sea-
captain, enters the service of the Prince as a volunteer, and is em-
ployed by him in many dangerous and responsible missions, in the
discharge of which he passes through the great sieges of the time.
He ultimately settles down as Sir Edward Martin.

" Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the book,
while the rest who only care for adventure. will be students in spite of them=
selves." — St. James'' Gazette.

St. George for England : A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. By
G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon
Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

No portion of English history is more crowded with great events
than that of the reign of Edward III. Cressy and Poitiers; the
destruction of the Spanish fleet; the plague of the Black Death;
tie Jacquerie rising; these are treated by the author in ** St.
George for England." The hero of the story, although of good
family, begins life as a London apprentice, but after countless adj
ventures and perils becomes by valor and good conduct the squire,
and at last the trusted friend of the Black Prince.

"Mr. Henty has developed for himself a type of historical novel for boys
which bids fair to supplement, on their behalf, the historical labors of Sir
Walter Scott in the land of fiction."— T/ie Standard.

Captain's Kidd's Gold : The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor
Boy. By James Franklin Fitts. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very
idea of buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy
Portuguese and Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming
eyes — sinister-looking fellows who once on a time haunted the
Spanish Main, sneaking out from some hidden creek in their long,
low schooner, of picaroonish rake and sheer, to attack an unsus-
pecting trading craft. Tnere were many famous sea rovers in
their day, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Perhaps
the most fascinating tale of all is Mr. Fitts' true story of an adven-
turous A?Tierican boy, who receives from his dying father an
ancient bit of vellum, which the latter obtained in a curious way.
The document bears obscure directions purporting to locate a cer-
tain island in the Bahama group, and a considerable treasure
buried there by two of Kidd's crew. The hero of this book,
Paul Jones Garry, is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt- water
New England ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and
secure the money form one of the most absorbing tales for our
youth that has come from the press.

A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

Captain Bayley's Heir : A Tale of the Gold Fields of California.

By G. A. Henty. With full- page Illustrations by H. M.

Paget. 12mo, cloth, price $1.0^.

A frank, manly lad and his cousin are rivals in theheirship'of a
considerable property. The former f.ilLs into a trap laid by the
latter, and while under a false accusation of theft foolishly leaves
England for America. He works his passage before the mast,
joins a small band of hunters, crosses a tract of country infested
with Indians to the Calif ornian go\d diggings, and is successful
both as digger and trader.

"Mr. Henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and th»
humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Holl, the Westminster
dustman, Dickens himself could hardly have excelled." — Christian Leader.

For Name and Fame ; or. Through Afghan Passes. By G. A.

Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne.

12mo, cloth, price $i.UO.

An interesting story of the last war in Afghanistan. The hero,
after being wrecked and going through many stirring adventures
among the Malays, finds his way to Calcutta and enlists in a regi-
ment proceeding to join the army at the Afghan passes. He ac-
companies the force under General Roberts to the Peiwar Kotal,
is wounded, taken prisoner, carried to Cabul, whence he is trans-
ferred to Candahar, and takes part in the final defeat of the army
of Ayoub Khan.

"The best feature of the book— apart from the interest of its scenes of ad-
venture- -is its honest effort to do justice to the patriotism of the Afghan
Tpeople.''''— Daily News.

Captured by Apes : The Wonderful Adventures of a Young
Animal Trainer. By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, $1.00.
The scene of this tale is laid on an island in the Malay Archi-
pelago. Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, of
New York, sets sail for Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of
living curiosities. The vessel is wrecked ofE the coast of Borneo
and young Garland, the sole survivor of the disaster, is cast ashore
on a small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the
place. The lad discovers that the ruling spirit of the monkey
tribe is a gigantic and vicious baboon, whom he identifies as
Goliah, an animal at one time in his possession and with whose
instruction he bad been especially diligent. The brute recognizes
him, and with a kind of malignant satisfaction puts his former
master through the same course of training he had himself ex-
perienced with a faithfulness of detail which shows how astonish-
ing is monkey recollection. Very novel indeed is the way by
which the young man escapes death. Mr. Prentice has certainly
worked a new vein on juvenile fiction, and the ability with which
he handles a diflS.cult subject stamps him as a writer of undoubted
skill.

8 A, L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

The Bravest of the Brave ; or, Witli Peterborougli in Spain.

By G, A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by E. M.

Paget. 12m >, cloth, price |1.00.

There are few great leaders whose lives and actions have so
completely fallen into oblivion as those of the Earl of Peter-
borough. This is largely due to the fact that they were over-
shadowed by the glory and successes of Marlborough. His career
as general extended over 1 ttle more than a year, and yet, in that
time, he showed a genius for warfare which has never been sur-
passed.

" Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work— to enforce
the doctrine of courage and truth. Lads will read ' The Bravest of the Brave •
■with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure." — Daily Telegraph.

The Cat of Bubastec : A Story of Ancient Egypt. By G. A.

Henty. With full page Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A story which will give young readers an unsurpassed insight
into the customs of the Egyptian people. Amuba, a prince of the
Rebu nation, is carried with his charioteer Jethro into slavery.
They become inmates of the house of Ameres, the Egyptian high-
priest, and are happy in his service until the priest's son acci-
dentally kills the sacred cat of Bubastes. In an outburst of popular
fury Ameres is killed, and it rests with Jethro and Amuba to
secure the escape of the high-priest's son and daughter.

" The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the
perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully constructed
and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated."— Sa^wrc?a^
Review.

With Washington at Monmouth : A Story of Three Phila-
delphia Boys. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Three Philadelphia boys, Seth Graydon "whose mother con-
ducted a boarding-house which was patronized by the British
oflBcers;" Enoch Ball, "son of that Mrs. Ball whose dancing
school was situated on Letitia Street," and little Jacob, son of
*' Chris, the Baker," serve as the principal characters. The
story is laid during the winter when Lord Howe held possession
of the city, and the lads aid the cause by assisting the American
spies who make regular and frequent visits from Valley Forge.
One reads here of home-life in the captive city when bread was
scarce among the people of the lower classes, and a reckless prodi-
gality shown by the British officers, who passed the winter in
feasting and merry-making while the members of the patriot army
but a few miles away were suffering from both cold and hunger.
The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfully
drawn, and the glijnpses of Washington's soldiers which are given
show that the work has not b^en hastily done, or without con-
siderable study.

A. L, BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

For the Temple : A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A.

Henty. With full-page Illustrations by S, J. Solomon. ISmo,

cloth, price $1.00.

Mr. Hentj here weaves into the record of Josephus an admirable
and attractive story. The troubles in the district of T.berias, the
march of the legions, the sieges of Jotapata, of Gamala, and of
Jerusalem, form the impressive and carefully studied historic
setting to the figure of the lad who passes from the vineyard to
the service of Josephus, becomes the leader of a guerrilla bandot
patriots, fights bravely for the Temple, and after a brief term of
slavery at Alexandria, returns to his Galilean home with the favoi
of Titus.

"Mr. Henty 's graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to
Roman sway add another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world."
^Graphic. '

Facing Death ; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale oi
the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustra-
tions by Gordon Browne. 13mo, cloth, price $1.00.
•'Facing Death" is a story with a purpose. It is intended to
show that a lad who makes up his mind firmly and resolutely that
he will rise in life, and who is prepared to face toil and ridicule
and hardship to carry out his determination; is sure to succeed.
The hero of the story is a typical British boy, dogged, earnest,
generous, and though " shamefaced" to a degree, is ready to face
death in the discharge of duty.

"The tale is well written and well illustrated a. "" there is much reality in
the characters. If any father, clergyman, or school iixAster is on the lookout
for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is Korth his salt, this is the
book we would recommend." — Standard.

Tom Temple's Career. By Horatio Alger. 12mo, cloth,
price $1.00.

Tom Temple, a bright, self-reliant lad, by the death of his
father becomes a boarder at the home of Nathan Middleton, a
penurious insurance agent. Though well paid for keeping the
boy, Nathan and his wife endeavor to bring Master Tom in line
with their parsimonious habits. The lad ingeniously evades their
efforts and revolutionizes the household. As Tom is heir to
$40,000, he is regarded as a person of some importance until by
an unfortunate combination of circumstances his fortune shrinks
to a few hundreds. He leaves Plympton village to seek work in
New York, whence he undertakes an important mission to Cali-
fornia, around which center the most exciting incidents of his
young career. Some of his adventures in the far west are so
startling that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last
page shall have been reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's
most fascinating style, and is bound to please the ';ery large class
of boys who regard this popular author as a prime favorite.

10 A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. By
G. A. Henty„ With full-page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The Renshaws emigrate to New Zealand during the period of
the war with the natives. Wilfrid, a strong, self-reliant, coura-
geous lad, is the mainstay of the household. He has for his friend
Mr. Atherton, a botanist and naturalist of herculean strength and
unfailing nerve and humor. In the adventures among the Maoris,
there are many breathless moments in which the odds seem hope-
lessly against the party, but they succeed in establishing them'
selves happily in one of the pleasant New Zealand valleys.

"Brimful of adv^enture, of humorous and interesting conversation, and
vivid pictures of colonial life." — Schoolmaster.

Julian Mortimer}: A Brave Boy's Struggle for Home and Fortune.
By Harry Castlemon. 13mo, cloth, price fl.OO.

Here is a story that will warm every boy's heart. There is
mystery enough to keep any lad's imagination wound up to the
highest pitch. The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi
River, in the days when emigrants made their perilous way across
the great plains to the land of gold One of the startling features
of the book is the attack upon the wagon train by a large party of
Indians. Our hero is a lad of uncommon nerve and pluck, a brave'
young American in every sense of the word. He enlists and holds
the reader's sympathy from the outset. Surrounded by an un-
known and constant peril, and assisted by the unswerving fidelity
of a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achi< ves tbe
most happy results. Harry Castlemon has written many enter-
taining stories for boys, and it would seem almost superfluous to
say anything in his praise, for the youth of America regard him
as a favorite author.

"Carrots:" Just a Little Boy. By Mrs. Molesworth. With
Illustrations by Walter Crane. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

" One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our good for-
tune to meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are delightful little
beings, whom to read about is at once to become very fond 01.'"— Examiner.

"A genuine children's book; we've seen 'em seize it, and read it greedily.
Children are first-rate critics, and thoroughly appreciate Walter Crane's
illustrations. ' '—Punch.

Mopsa the Fairy. By Jean Ingelow. With Eight page
Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

" Mrs. Ingelow is, to our mind, the most charming of all living writers for
children, and ' Mopsa ' alone ought to give her a kind of pre-emptive right to
the love and gratitude of our young folks. It requires genius to conceive ?
purely imaginary work which must of necessity deal with the supernatural,
without running into a mere riot of fantastic absurdity; but genius Miss In-
gelow has and the story of ' Jack ' is as careless and joyous, but as delicate,
as a picture of childhood." — Eclectic.

A, L. "BURT'S PUBLICATIONS. It

A Jaunt Through Java : The Story of a Journey to the Sacred

Mountain, By Edward S. Ellis, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The central interest of this story is found in the thrilling- ad-
v^entures of two cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their
irip across the island of Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Moun=
tain. In a land where the Royal Bengal tiger runs at large;
where the rhinoceros and other fierce beasts are to be met with
at unexpected nioraents; it is bat natural that the heroes of this
book should have a lively experience. Hermon not only dis-
tinguishes himself by killing a full-grown tiger at short rangCf
but meets with the most startling adventure of the journey.
There is much in this narrative to instruct as v/ell as entertain the
reader, and so deftly has Mr. Ellis used his material that there is
not a dull page in the book. The two heroes are brave, manly
young fellows, bubbling over with boyish independence. They
cope with the many dilBculties that arise during the trip in a fear-
less way that is bound to win the admiration of every lad who is
so fortunate as to read their adventures.

Wrecked on Spider Island; or, How Ned Rogers Found the

Treasure. By James Otis= 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A " down-east" plucky lad who ships as cabin boy, not from
love of adventure, but because it is the only course remaining by
which he can gain a livelihood. While in his bunk, seasick,
Ned Rogers hears the captain and mate discussing their plans for
the willful wreck of the brig in order to gain the insurance. Once
it is known he is in possession of the secret the captain maroons
him on Spider Island, explaining to the crew that the boy is
afflicted with leprosy. While thus involuntarily playing the part
of a Crusoe, Ned discovers a wreck submerged in the sand, and
overhauling the timbers for the purpose ot gathering material
with which to build a hut finds a considerable amount of treasure.
Raising the wreck; a voyag-e to Havana under sail; shipping there
a crew and running for Savannah; the attempt ot the crew to
seize the little craft after learning of the treasure on board, and,
as a matter of course, the successful ending of the journey, all
serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most
captious boy could desire.

Geoff and Jim : A Story of School Life. By Ismay Thorn. Il-
lustrated by A. G. Walker. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

" This is a prettily told story of the life spent by two motherless bairns at
a small preparatory school. Both Geoff and Jim are very lovable characters,
only Jirc s the more so; and the scrapes he gets into and the trials he en-
dures wi no doubt, interest a large circle of young readers." — Church
Times.

"This is a capital children's story, the characters well portrayed, and the
book tastefully bound and well illustrated.'"— Sc/iooZma-sfer.

" The story can be heartily recommended as a present for boys."—
Standard.

.9 A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

The Castaways ; or, On tlie Florida Reefso By James Otis.
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

This tale smacks of the salt sea. It is just tlie kind of story
that the majority of boys yearn for. From the moment that the
Sea Queen dispenses with the services of the tug in lower New
York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the coast of
Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through her
k'igging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the
iweward, and feel her rise to the snow-capped waves which her
slarp bow cuts into twin streaks of foam. Off Marquesas Keys
sh ? floats in a dead calm. Ben Clark, the hero of the story, and
Jaike, the cook, spy a turtle asleep upon the glassy surface of the
water. They determine to capture him, and take a boat for that
purpose, and just as they succeed in catching him a thick fog
cuti? them off from the vessel, and then their troubles begin.
They take refuge on board a drifting hulk, a storm arises and they
are cast ashore upon a low sandy key. Their adventures from
this point cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young
people Mr. Otis is a prime favorite. His style is captivating, and
never for a moment does he allow the interest to flag. In " The
Castaways '" he is at his best.

Tom Thatcher's Fortune. By Hokatio Alger, Jr. 12mo,
cloth, price $1.00.

Like all of Mr. Alger's heroes, Tom Thatcher is a brave, am-
bitious, unselfish boy. He supports his mother and sister on
meager wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John Simpson's factory.
The story begins with Tom's discharge from the factory, because
Mr. Simpson felt annoyed with the lad for interrogating him too
closely about his missing father. A few days afterward Tom
learns that which induces him to start overlandfor California with
the view of probing the family mystery. He meets with many ad-
ventures. Ultimately he returns to his native village, bringing con-
sternation to the soul of John Simpson, who only escapes the con-
sequences of his villainy by making full restitution to the man
whose friendship he had betrayed. The story is told in that en-
tertaining way which has made Mr. Alger's name a household
word in so many homes.

Birdie : A Tale of Child lafe. By H. L. Childe-Pemberton.

Illustrated by H. W. Rainey. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

" The story is quaint and simple, but there is a freshness about it that
makes one hear again the ringing laugh and the cheery shout of children at
play which aharmed his earlier years." — New York Express.

Popular Fairy Tales. By the Brothers Grimm, Profusely

Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

" From first tolast, almost without exception, these stories are delightful."
—Athenczum.

A. L. BURT'S PUBLtCATIONS. 13

With Lafayette at Yorktown : A Story of How Two Boys
Joined the Continental Army. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth,
price $1.00.

The two boys are from Portsmouth, N. H., and are introduced
in August, 1781, when on the point of leaving home to enlist in
Col. Scammell's regiment, then stationed near New York City.
Their method of traveling is on horseback, and the author has
given an interesting account of what was expected from boys in
the Colonial days. The lads, after no slight amount of adventure,
are sent as messengers — not soldiers — into the south to find the
troops under Lafayette. Once with that youthful general they
are given employment as spies, and enter the British camp,
bringing away valuable information. The pictures of camp-life
are carefully drawn, and the portrayal of Lafayette's character is
thoroughly well done. The story is wholesome in tone, as are all
of Mr. Otis' works. There is no lack of exciting incident which
the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful excitement brim-
ming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, and
while the reader is following the adventures of Ben Jaffreys and
Ned Allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will
remain in his memory long after that which he has memorized
from text-books has been forgotten.

Lost in the Canon : Sam Willett's Adventures on the Great

Colorado. By Alfred R. Calhoun. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

This story hinges on a fortune left to Sam Willett, the hero,
and the fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad
dies before he shall have reached his majority. The Vigilance
Committee of Hurley's Gulch arrest Sam's father and an associate
for the crime of murder. Their lives depend on the production
of the receipt given for money paid. This is in Sam's possession
at the camp on the other side of the canon. A messenger is dis-
patched to get it. He reaches the lad in the midst of a fearful
storm which floods the canon. His father's peril urges Sam to
action. A raft is built on which the boy and his friends essay to
cross the torrent. They fail to do so, and a desperate trip down
the stream ensues. How the party finally escape from the hor-
rors of their situation and Sa'n reaches Hurley's Gulch in the very
nick of time, is described in a graphic style that stamps Mr. Cal-
houn as a master of his art.

Jack : A Topsy Turvy Story. By C. M. Crawley-BoeveYc

With upward of Thirty Hlustrations by H. J. A. Miles.

12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

" The illustrations deserve particular mention, as they add largely to the
interest of this amusing volume for children. Jack falls asleep with his mind
full of the subject of the fishpond, and is very much surprised presently to
find himself an inhabitant of Waterworld, where he goes though wonderful
and edifying adventures. A handsome and pleasant book, "—iiierarz/ World,

14 A. L. BURT'S PtJBLICATlONi:^.

Search for the Silver City : A Tale of Adventure in Yucatan.
By James Otis. 12mo, clotb, price $1.00.

Two American lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark
on the steam yacht Day Dream for a short summer cruise to the
tropics. Homeward bound the yacht is destroyed by fire. All
hands take to the boats, but during the night the boat is cast upon
the coast of Yucatan. They come across a young American
named Cummings, who entertains them with the story of the
Avonderful Silver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians. Cum-
mings proposes with the aid of a faithful Indian ally to brave
the perils of the swamp and carry off a number of the golden
images from the temples. Pursued with relentless vigor for days
their situation is desperate. At last their escape is effected in an
astonishing manner. Mr. Otis has built his story on an historical
foundation. It is so full of exciting incidents that the reader is
quite carried away with the novelty and realism of the narrative.

Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo,

cloth, price $1.00.

Thrown upon his own resources Frank Fowler, a poor boy,
bravely determines to make a living for himself and his foster-
sister Grace. Going to New York he obtains a situation as cash
boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to a wealthy old
gentleman named Wharton, who takes a fancy to the lad. Frank,
after losing his place as cash boy, is enticed by an enemy to a
lonesome part of New Jersey and held a prisoner. This move re-
coils upon the plotter, for it leads to a clue that enables the lad to
establish his real identity. Mr. Alger's stories are not only un-
usually interesting, but they convey a useful lesson of pluck and
manly independence.

Budd Boyd's Triumph ; or, the Boy Firm of Fox Island. By

William P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The scene of this story is laid on the upperpart of Narragansett
Bay, and the leading incidents have a strong salt-water flavor.
Owing to the conviction of his father for forgery and theft, Budd
Boyd is compelled to leave his home and strike out for himself.
Chance brings Badd in contact with Judd Floyd. The two boys,
being ambitious and clear sighted, form a partnership to catch
and sell fish. The scheme is successfully launched, but the un-
expected appearance on the scene of Thomas Bagsley, the man
whom Budd believes guilty of the crimes attributed to his father,
leads to several disagreeable complications that nearly caused the
lad's ruin. His pluck and good sense, however, carry him through
his troubles. In following the career of the boy firm of Boyd &
Floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson — that industry
and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success.

A. L. BURT'S PtJBLICATiONS. 15

The Errand Boy ; or, How Phil Brent Won Success. By
Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, price $1 00.
The career of " The Errand Boy" embraces the city adventures
of a smart country lad who at an early age was abandoned by his
father. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper
named Brent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way for the
hero's subsequent troubles. Accident introduces him to the
notice of a retired merchant in New York, who not only secures
him the situation of errand boy but thereafter stands as his
friend. An unexpected turn of fortune's wheel, however, brings
Philip and his father together. In "The Errand Boy" Philip
Brent is possessed of the same sterling qualities so conspicuous in
all of the previous creations of this delightful writer for our youth.

The Slate Picker : The Story of a Boy's Life in the Coal Mines.

By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

This is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of Pennsylvania
There are many thrilling situations, notably that of Ben Burton's
leap into the " lion's mouth " — the yawning shute in the breakers
— to escape a beating at the hands of the savage Spilkins, the
overseer. Grncie Gordon is a little angel in rags, Terence O'Dowd
is a manly, sympathetic lad, and Enoch Evans, the miner-poet, is
a big-hearted, honest fellow, a true friend to all whose bur-
dens seem too heavy for them to bear. Ben Burton, the hero, had
a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy he advanced step by
step until he found himself called upon to fill the position of
chief engineer of the Kohinoor Coal Company.

A Runaway Brig ; or, An Accidental Cruise. By James Otis.
12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

"A Runaway Brig" is a sea tale, pure and simple, and that's
where it strikes a boy's fancy. The reader can look out upon
the wide shimmering sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and
imagine himself afloat with Harry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim
Libby and that old shell-back. Bob Brace, on the brig Bonita,
which lands on one of the Bahama keys. Finally three strangers
steal the craft, leaving the rightful owners to shift for themselves
aboard a broken-down tug. The boys discover a mysterious
document which enables them to find a buried treasure, then a
storm comes on and the tug is stranded. At last a yacht comes in
sight and the party with the treasure is taken off the lonely key.
The most exacting youth is sure to be fascinated with this enter-
taining story.

Fairy Tales and Stories. By Hans Christian Andersen",

Profusely Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

" If I were asked to select a child's library I should name these three volumes
'English,' ' Celtic,'' and 'Indian Fairy Tales,' with Grimm and Hans Ander-
sen's Fairy Tales.'"— Independent,

16 A. L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

The Island Treasure ; or, Harry Darrel's Fortune. By Frank

H, Converse. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Harry Barrel, an orphan, having received a nautical training on
a school-ship, is bent on going to sea with a boyish acquaintance
named Dan Plunket. A runaway horse changes his prospects.
Harry saves Dr. Gregg from drowning and the doctor presents his
preserver with a bit of property known as Gregg's Island, and
makes the lad sailing-master of his sloop yacht. A piratical hoard
is supposed to be hidden somewhere on the island. After much
search and many thwarted plans, at last Dan discovers the
treasure and is the means of finding Harry's father. Mr. Con-
verse's stories possess a charm of their own which is appreciated
by lads who delight in good healthy tales that smack of salt
water.

The Boy Explorers: The Adventures of Two Boys in Alaska.

By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Two boys, Raymond and Spencer Manning, travel from San
Francisco to Alaska to join their father in search of their uncle,
who, it is believed, was captured and detained by the inhabitants
of a place called the " Heart of Alaska." On their arrival at
Sitka the boys with an Indian guide set off across the mountains.
The trip is fraught with perils that test the lads' courage to the
utmost. Reaching the Yukon River they build a raft and float
down the stream, entering the Mysterious River, from which they
barely escape with their lives, only to be captured by natives of
the Heart of Alaska. All through their exciting adventures the
lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by pluck and resolu-
tion, and their experience makes one of the most interesting tales
ever written.

The Treasure Finders : A Boy's Adventures in Nicaragua. By

James Otis. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their
father's indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient
3ity. The boys eagerly explore the dismantled temples of an ex-
tinct race and discover three golden images cunningly hidden
away. They escape with the greatest difficulty; by taking advan-
tage of a festive gathering they seize a canoe and fly down the
river. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes.
Mr. Otis is the prince of story tellers, for he handles his material
with consummate skill. We doubt if he has ever written a more
entertaining story than " The Treasure Finders."

Household Fairy Tales. By the Brothers Grimm. Profusely
Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

" As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages this work
ranks second to none.''''— Daily Graphic.

A. L BLT-RT'S PUBLICATIONS. 17

Dan the Newsboy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, clotli,

price $1.00.

The reader is introduced to Dan Mordaunt and his mother living
in a poor tenement, and the lad is pluckily tryino; to make ends
meet by selling papers in the streets of New York. A little
heiress of six years is confided to the care of the Mordaunts. At
the same time the lad obtains a position in a wholesale house.
He soon demonstrates how valuable he is to the firm by detecting
the \ ookkeeper in a bold attempt to rob his employers. The
chil i Is kidnaped and Dan tracks the child to the house where
she k hidden, and rescues her. The wealthy aunt of the little
heiress is so delighted with Dan's courage and many good qualities
that she adopts him as her heir, and the conclusion of the book
leaves the hero on the high road to every earthly desire.

Tony the Hero : A Brave Boy's Adventure with a Tramp. By
Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.
Tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the control
of Rudolph Rugg, a thorough rascal, shiftless and lazy, spending
his time tramping about the country. After much abuse Tony
runs away and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. Tony is
heir to a large estate in England, and certain persons find it nec-
essary to produce proof of the lad s death. Rudolph for a con-
sideration hunts up Tony and throws him down a deep well. Of
course Tony escapes from the fate provided for him, and by a
brave act makes a rich triend, with whom he goes to England,
where he secures his rights and is prosperous. The fact that Mr.
Alger is the author of this entertaining book will at once recom-
mend it to all juvenile readers.

A Young Hero ; or. Fighting to Win. By Edward S. Ellis.

12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

This storytells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen
from the Misses Perkinpine, two very old and simple minded
ladies. Fred Sheldon, the hero of this story and a friend of the
old ladies, undertakes to discover the thieves and have them ar-
rested. After much time spent in detective work, he succeeds ia
discovering the silver plate and winning the reward for its re-
storation. During the narrative a circus comes to town and a
thrilling account of the escape of the lion from its cage, with its
recapture, is told in Mr. Ellis' most fascinating style. Every
boy will be glad to read this delightful book.

The Days of Bruce : A Story from Scottish History. By Grace
AGriLA;R. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

"There is a delightful freshness, sincerity and vivacity about all of Grace
Aguilar's stories which cannot fail to win the interest and admiration Qf
©very lover of good reading. '"—^os^gn Bemcori,

18 A„ L. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

Tom the Bootblack; or. The Road to Success. By Horatio
Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A bright, enterprising lad was Tom the bootblack. He was
not at all ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the
lookout to better himself. His guardian, old Jacob Morton, died,
leaving him a small sum of money and a written confession that
Tom, instead of being of humble origin, was the son and heir of
a deceased Western merchant, and had been defrauded out of his
just rights by an unscrupulous uncle. The lad started for Cin-
cinnati to look up his heritage. But three years passed away
before he obtained his first clue. Mr. Grrey, the uncle, did not
hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. The plan failed, md
Gilbert Grey, once Tom the bootblack, came into a comfortable
fortune. This is one of Mr. Alger's best stories.

Captured by Zulus : A story of Trapping in Africa. By Harry

Prentice. 12m o, cloth, price $1.C0.

This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Els worth
and Bob Harvey, in the wilds of South Africa, for the purpose of
obtaining a supply of zoological curiosities. By stratagem the
Zulus capture Dick and Bob and take them to their principal
kraal or village. The lads escape death by digging their way
out of the prison hut by night. They are pursued, and after a
rough experience the boys eventually rejoin the expedition and
take part in several wild animal hunts. The Zulus finally give
up pursuit and the expedition arrives at the coast without further
trouble. Mr, Prentice has a delightful method of blending fact
with fiction. He tells exactly how wild-beast collectoi«s secure
specimens on their native stamping grounds, and these descrip-
tions make very entertaining reading,

Tom the Ready ; or, Up from the Lowest. By Randolph
Hill. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless,
ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder — the
gate of the poorhouse — to wealth and the governorship of hi«
native State, Thomas Seacomb begins life with a purpose. While
yet a schoolboy he conceives and presents to the world the germ
of the Overland Express Co, At the very outset of his career
jealousy and craft seek to blast his promising future. Later he
sets out to obtain a charter for a railroad line in connection with
the express business. Now he realizes what it is to match him-
self against capital. Yet he wins and the railroad is built. Only
an uncommon nature like Tom's could successfully oppose such a
combine. How he manages to win the battle is told by Mr. Hill
iu a masterful way that thrills the rea.der and. holds his attentioa
and sympathy to the end.

A. L. BURT'S PUBTJCATIONS. 19

Roy Gilbert's Search : A Tale of the Great Lakes. By Wm. P.

Chipman. 12mo, clotli, price $1.00.

A deep mystery bangs over the parentage of Roy Gfilbert.
He arranges with two schoolmates to make a tour of the
Great Lakes on a steam launch. The three boys leave Erie on
the launch and visit many points of interest on the lakes. Soon
afterward the lad is conspicuous in the rescue of an elderly gentle-
man and a lady from a sinking yacht. Later on the cruise of the
launch is brought to a disastrous termination and the boys nar-
rowly escape with their lives. The hero is a manly, self-reliant
boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest.

The Young Scout; The Story of a West Point Lieutenant. By
Edward S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the

most terrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has
woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of Geronimo's
last raid. The hero is Lieutenant James Decker, a recent graduate
of West Point. Ambitious to distinguish himself so as to win
well-deserved promotion, the young man takes many a desperate
chance against the enemy a_id on more than one occasion nar-
rowly escapes with his life. The story naturally abounds in
thrilling situations, and being historically correct, it is reasonable
to believe it will find great favor with the boys. In our opinion
Mr. Ellis is the best writer of Indian stories now before the
public.

Adrift in the Wilds : The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked
Boys. By Edward S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, price, $1.00.

Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence, cousins and school-
mates, accompanied by a lively Irishman called O'Rooney, are en
route for San Francisco. Off the coast of California the steamer
takes fire. The two boys and their companion reach the shore
with several of the passengers. While O'Rooney and the lads
are absent inspecting the neighborhood O'Roonej^ has an excit-
ing experience and young Brandon becomes separated from his
party. He is captured by hostile Indians, but is rescued by an
Indian whom the lads had assisted. This is a very entertaining
narrative of Southern California in the days immediately preced-
ing the construction of the Pacific railroads. Mr. Ellis seems to
be particularly happy in this line of fiction, and the present story
is fully as entertaining as anything he has ever written.

The Red Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. Profusely
Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

" A gift-book that will charm any child, and all older folk who have been
fortunate enough to retain their taste for the old nursery stories."— izferar^

30 A. 1^. BURT'S PUBLICATIONS.

The Boy Cruisers ; or. Paddling in Florida. By St George

Rathborne. 12mo, cloth, price, $1.00.

Boys who like an admixture of sport and adventure will find
this book just to their taste. We promise them that they will
not go to sleep over the rattling experiences of Andrew George
and Roland Carter, who start on a canoe trip along the Gulf
coast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first adventure
is with a pair of rascals who steal their boats. Next they run
into a gale in the Gulf and have a lively experience while it lasts.
After that they have a lively time with alligators and divers
varieties of the finny tribe. Andrew gets into trouble with a
band of Seminole Indians and gets away without having his
scalp raised. After this there is no lack of fun till they
reach their destination. That Mr. Rathborne knows just how to
interest the boys is apparent at a glance, and lads who are in
search of a rare treat will do well to read this entertaining story.

Guy Harris ; The Runaway. By Harry Castlemon. 12mo,

cloth, price $1.00.

Guy Harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the
Great Lakes. His head became filled with quixotic notions of
going West to hunt grizzlies, in fact, Indians. He is per-
suaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough side of life
in a sailor's ' oarding house. He ships on a vessel and for five
months leads a hard life. He deserts his ship at San Francisco
and starts out to become a backwoodsman, but rough experiences
soon cure him of all desire to be a hunter. At St. Louis he be-
comes a clerk and for a time he yields to the temptations of a
great city. The book will not only interest boys generally on
account of its graphic style, but will put many facts before their
eyes in a new light. This is one of Castlemon's most attractive
stories.

The Train Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, price

$1.00.

Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported
his mother and sister by selling books and papers on one of the
trains running between Chicago and Milwaukee. He detects a
young man named Luke Denton in the act of picking the pocket
of a young lady, and also incurs the enmity of his brother Ste-
phen, a worthless follow. Luke and Stephen plot to ruin Paul,
but their plans are frustrated. In a railway accident many pas-
sengers are killed, but Paul is fortunate enough to assist a (-hicago
merchant, who out of gratitude takes him into his employ. Paul
is sent to manage a mine in Custer City and executes his com-
mission with tact and judgment and is well started on the road
to business prominence. This is one of Mr. Alger's most attrac-
tive stories and is sure to please all readers,

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