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DRIVEN FROM HOMEORCARL CRAWFORD'S EXPERIENCEBY HORATIO ALGER, JR.CHAPTER IDRIVEN FROM HOME.A boy of sixteen, with a small gripsack inhis hand, trudged along the country road. Hewas of good height for his age, strongly built,and had a frank, attractive face. He wasnaturally of a cheerful temperament, but at presenthis face was grave, and not without a shadeof anxiety. This can hardly be a matter ofsurprise when we consider that he was thrownupon his own resources, and that his availablecapital consisted of thirty-seven cents inmoney, in addition to a good education anda rather unusual amount of physical strength.These last two items were certainly valuable,but they cannot always be exchanged for thenecessaries and comforts of life.For some time his steps had been lagging,and from time to time he had to wipe the moisturefrom his brow with a fine linen handkerchief,which latter seemed hardly compatiblewith his almost destitute condition.I hasten to introduce my hero, for such heis to be, as Carl Crawford, son of Dr. PaulCrawford, of Edgewood Center. Why he hadset out to conquer fortune single-handed willsoon appear.A few rods ahead Carl's attention wasdrawn to a wide-spreading oak tree, with a carpetof verdure under its sturdy boughs."I will rest here for a little while," he saidto himself, and suiting the action to the word,threw down his gripsack and flung himself onthe turf."This is refreshing," he murmured, as, lyingupon his back, he looked up through the leafyrifts to the sky above. "I don't know whenI have ever been so tired. It's no joke walkinga dozen miles under a hot sun, with a heavygripsack in your hand. It's a good introductionto a life of labor, which I have reason tobelieve is before me. I wonder how I am comingout--at the big or the little end of the horn?"He paused, and his face grew grave, for heunderstood well that for him life had becomea serious matter. In his absorption he didnot observe the rapid approach of a boy some-what younger than himself, mounted on a bicycle.The boy stopped short in surprise, andleaped from his iron steed."Why, Carl Crawford, is this you? Wherein the world are you going with that gripsack?"Carl looked up quickly."Going to seek my fortune," he answered, soberly."Well, I hope you'll find it. Don't chaff,though, but tell the honest truth.""I have told you the truth, Gilbert."With a puzzled look, Gilbert, first leaninghis bicycle against the tree, seated himself onthe ground by Carl's side."Has your father lost his property?" heasked, abruptly."No.""Has he disinherited you?""Not exactly.""Have you left home for good?""I have left home--I hope for good.""Have you quarreled with the governor?""I hardly know what to say to that.There is a difference between us.""He doesn't seem like a Roman father--onewho rules his family with a rod of iron.""No; he is quite the reverse. He hasn'tbackbone enough.""So it seemed to me when I saw him at theexhibition of the academy. You ought to beable to get along with a father like that, Carl.""So I could but for one thing.""What is that?""I have a stepmother!" said Carl, with asignificant glance at his companion."So have I, but she is the soul of kindness,and makes our home the dearest place in the world.""Are there such stepmothers? I shouldn'thave judged so from my own experience.""I think I love her as much as if she weremy own mother.""You are lucky," said Carl, sighing."Tell me about yours.""She was married to my father five yearsago. Up to the time of her marriage I thoughther amiable and sweet-tempered. But soonafter the wedding she threw off the mask, andmade it clear that she disliked me. One reasonis that she has a son of her own aboutmy age, a mean, sneaking fellow, who is theapple of her eye. She has been jealous of me,and tried to supplant me in the affection ofmy father, wishing Peter to be the favored son.""How has she succeeded?""I don't think my father feels any love forPeter, but through my stepmother's influencehe generally fares better than I do.""Why wasn't he sent to school with you?""Because he is lazy and doesn't like study.Besides, his mother prefers to have him athome. During my absence she worked uponmy father, by telling all sorts of maliciousstories about me, till he became estranged fromme, and little by little Peter has usurped myplace as the favorite.""Why didn't you deny the stories?" asked Gilbert."I did, but no credit was given to mydenials. My stepmother was continually poisoningmy father's mind against me.""Did you give her cause? Did you behavedisrespectfully to her?""No," answered Carl, warmly. "I wasprepared to give her a warm welcome, and treather as a friend, but my advances were so coldlyreceived that my heart was chilled.""Poor Carl! How long has this been so?""From the beginning--ever since Mrs. Crawfordcame into the house.""What are your relations with your step-brother--what's his name?""Peter Cook. I despise the boy, for he ismean, and tyrannical where he dares to be.""I don't think it would be safe for him tobully you, Carl.""He tried it, and got a good thrashing. Youcan imagine what followed. He ran, cryingto his mother, and his version of the story wasbelieved. I was confined to my room for aweek, and forced to live on bread and water.""I shouldn't think your father was a manto inflict such a punishment.""It wasn't he--it was my stepmother. Sheinsisted upon it, and he yielded. I heard afterwardsfrom one of the servants that he wantedme released at the end of twenty-four hours,but she would not consent.""How long ago was this?""It happened when I was twelve.""Was it ever repeated?""Yes, a month later; but the punishmentlasted only for two days.""And you submitted to it?""I had to, but as soon as I was released Igave Peter such a flogging, with the promiseto repeat it, if I was ever punished in thatmanner again, that the boy himself was panic-stricken, and objected to my being imprisoned again.""He must be a charming fellow!""You would think so if you should see him.He has small, insignificant features, a turn-up nose, and an ugly scowl that appears wheneverhe is out of humor.""And yet your father likes him?""I don't think he does, though Peter, by hismother's orders, pays all sorts of small attentions--bringing him his slippers, running onerrands, and so on, not because he likes it, butbecause he wants to supplant me, as he hassucceeded in doing.""You have finally broken away, then?""Yes; I couldn't stand it any longer. Homehad become intolerable.""Pardon the question, but hasn't your fathergot considerable property?""I have every reason to think so.""Won't your leaving home give your step-mother and Peter the inside track, and lead,perhaps, to your disinheritance?""I suppose so," answered Carl, wearily; "butno matter what happens, I can't bear to stayat home any longer.""You're badly fixed--that's a fact!" saidGilbert, in a tone of sympathy. "What areyour plans?""I don't know. I haven't had time to think."CHAPTER II.A FRIEND WORTH HAVING.Gilbert wrinkled up his forehead and setabout trying to form some plans for Carl."It will be hard for you to support yourself,"he said, after a pause; "that is, without help.""There is no one to help me. I expect no help.""I thought your father might be induced togive you an allowance, so that with what youcan earn, you may get along comfortably.""I think father would be willing to do this,but my stepmother would prevent him.""Then she has a great deal of influence over him?""Yes, she can twist him round her little finger.""I can't understand it.""You see, father is an invalid, and is verynervous. If he were in perfect health he wouldhave more force of character and firmness. Heis under the impression that he has heart disease,and it makes him timid and vacillating.""Still he ought to do something for you.""I suppose he ought. Still, Gilbert, I thinkI can earn my living.""What can you do?""Well, I have a fair education. I could bean entry clerk, or a salesman in some store,or, if the worst came to the worst, I could workon a farm. I believe farmers give boys whowork for them their board and clothes.""I don't think the clothes would suit you.""I am pretty well supplied with clothing."Gilbert looked significantly at the gripsack."Do you carry it all in there?" he asked, doubtfully.Carl laughed."Well, no," he answered. "I have a trunkfulof clothes at home, though.""Why didn't you bring them with you?""I would if I were an elephant. Being onlya boy, I would find it burdensome carrying atrunk with me. The gripsack is all I can verywell manage.""I tell you what," said Gilbert. "Comeround to our house and stay overnight. Welive only a mile from here, you know. Thefolks will be glad to see you, and while youare there I will go to your house, see thegovernor, and arrange for an allowance for youthat will make you comparatively independent.""Thank you, Gilbert; but I don't feel likeasking favors from those who have ill-treated me.""Nor would I--of strangers; but Dr. Crawfordis your father. It isn't right that Peter,your stepbrother, should be supported in easeand luxury, while you, the real son, shouldbe subjected to privation and want.""I don't know but you are right," admittedCarl, slowly."Of course I am right. Now, will you makeme your minister plenipotentiary, armed withfull powers?""Yes, I believe I will.""That's right. That shows you are a boyof sense. Now, as you are subject to mydirections, just get on that bicycle and I willcarry your gripsack, and we will seek VanceVilla, as we call it when we want to be high-toned, by the most direct route.""No, no, Gilbert; I will carry my owngripsack. I won't burden you with it," said Carl,rising from his recumbent position."Look here, Carl, how far have you walkedwith it this morning?""About twelve miles.""Then, of course, you're tired, and requirerest. Just jump on that bicycle, and I'll takethe gripsack. If you have carried it twelvemiles, I can surely carry it one.""You are very kind, Gilbert.""Why shouldn't I be?""But it is imposing up on your good nature."But Gilbert had turned his head in a backwarddirection, and nodded in a satisfied wayas he saw a light, open buggy rapidly approaching."There's my sister in that carriage," he said."She comes in good time. I will put you andyour gripsack in with her, and I'll take to mybicycle again.""Your sister may not like such an arrangement.""Won't she though! She's very fond ofbeaux, and she will receive you very graciously.""You make me feel bashful, Gilbert.""You won't be long. Julia will chat awayto you as if she'd known you for fifty years.""I was very young fifty years ago," saidCarl, smiling."Hi, there, Jule!" called Gilbert, waving his hand.Julia Vance stopped the horse, and lookedinquiringly and rather admiringly at Carl,who was a boy of fine appearance."Let me introduce you to my friend andschoolmate, Carl Crawford."Carl took off his hat politely."I am very glad to make your acquaintance,Mr. Crawford," said Julia, demurely; "I haveoften heard Gilbert speak of you.""I hope he said nothing bad about me, Miss Vance.""You may be sure he didn't. If he should now--I wouldn't believe him.""You've made a favorable impression, Carl,"said Gilbert, smiling."I am naturally prejudiced against boys--having such a brother," said Julia; "but it isnot fair to judge all boys by him.""That is outrageous injustice!" said Gilbert;"but then, sisters seldom appreciate their brothers.""Some other fellows' sisters may," said Carl."They do, they do!""Did you ever see such a vain, conceited boy,Mr. Crawford?""Of course you know him better than I do.""Come, Carl; it's too bad for you, too, tojoin against me. However, I will forget andforgive. Jule, my friend, Carl, has acceptedmy invitation to make us a visit.""I am very glad, I am sure," said Julia,sincerely."And I want you to take him in, bag andbaggage, and convey him to our palace, whileI speed thither on my wheel.""To be sure I will, and with great pleasure.""Can't you get out and assist him into thecarriage, Jule?""Thank you," said Carl; "but though I amsomewhat old and quite infirm, I think I canget in without troubling your sister. Are yousure, Miss Vance, you won't be incommodedby my gripsack?""Not at all.""Then I will accept your kind offer."In a trice Carl was seated next to Julia, withhis valise at his feet."Won't you drive, Mr. Crawford?" said theyoung lady."Don't let me take the reins from you.""I don't think it looks well for a lady todrive when a gentleman is sitting beside her."Carl was glad to take the reins, for he liked driving."Now for a race!" said Gilbert, who wasmounted on his bicycle."All right!" replied Carl. "Look out for us!"They started, and the two kept neck andneck till they entered the driveway leadingup to a handsome country mansion.Carl followed them into the house, and wascordially received by Mr. and Mrs. Vance,who were very kind and hospitable, and werefavorably impressed by the gentlemanlyappearance of their son's friend.Half an hour later dinner was announced,and Carl, having removed the stains of travelin his schoolmate's room, descended to the dining-room, and, it must be confessed, did amplejustice to the bounteous repast spread before him.In the afternoon Julia, Gilbert and heplayed tennis, and had a trial at archery. Thehours glided away very rapidly, and six o'clockcame before they were aware."Gilbert," said Carl, as they were preparingfor tea, "you have a charming home.""You have a nice house, too, Carl.""True; but it isn't a home--to me.There is no love there.""That makes a great difference.""If I had a father and mother like yoursI should be happy.""You must stay here till day after tomorrow,and I will devote to-morrow to a visit inyour interest to your home. I will beard thelion in his den--that is, your stepmother.Do you consent?""Yes, I consent; but it won't do any good.""We will see."CHAPTER III.INTRODUCES PETER COOK.Gilbert took the morning train to the townof Edgewood Center, the residence of the Crawfords.He had been there before, and knewthat Carl's home was nearly a mile distantfrom the station. Though there was a hackin waiting, he preferred to walk, as it wouldgive him a chance to think over what he proposedto say to Dr. Crawford in Carl's behalf.He was within a quarter of a mile of hisdestination when his attention was drawn to aboy of about his own age, who was amusinghimself and a smaller companion by firingstones at a cat that had taken refuge in a tree.Just as Gilbert came up, a stone took effect,and the poor cat moaned in affright, but didnot dare to come down from her perch, as thiswould put her in the power of her assailant."That must be Carl's stepbrother, Peter,"Gilbert decided, as he noted the boy's meanface and turn-up nose. "Stoning cats seemsto be his idea of amusement. I shall take theliberty of interfering."Peter Cook laughed heartily at his successful aim."I hit her, Simon," he said. "Doesn't shelook seared?""You must have hurt her.""I expect I did. I'll take a bigger stone next time."He suited the action to the word, and pickedup a rock which, should it hit the poor cat,would in all probability kill her, and preparedto fire."Put down that rock!" said Gilbert, indignantly.Peter turned quickly, and eyed Gilbert insolently."Who are you?" he demanded."No matter who I am. Put down that rock!""What business is it of yours?""I shall make it my business to protect thatcat from your cruelty."Peter, who was a natural coward, took couragefrom having a companion to back him up,and retorted: "You'd better clear out of here,or I may fire at you.""Do it if you dare!" said Gilbert, quietly.Peter concluded that it would be wiser notto carry out his threat, but was resolved tokeep to his original purpose. He raised hisarm again, and took aim; but Gilbert rushedin, and striking his arm forcibly, compelledhim to drop it."What do you mean by that, you loafer?"demanded Peter, his eyes blazing with anger."To stop your fun, if that's what you call it.""I've a good mind to give you a thrashing."Gilbert put himself in a position of defense."Sail in, if you want to!" he responded."Help me, Simon!" said Peter. "You grabhis legs, and I'll upset him."Simon, who, though younger, was braverthan Peter, without hesitation followed directions.He threw himself on the ground andgrasped Gilbert by the legs, while Peter,doubling up his fists, made a rush at his enemy.But Gilbert, swiftly eluding Simon, struck outwith his right arm, and Peter, unprepared forso forcible a defense, tumbled over on his back,and Simon ran to his assistance.Gilbert put himself on guard, expecting asecond attack; but Peter apparently thoughtit wiser to fight with his tongue."You rascal!" he shrieked, almost foamingat the mouth; "I'll have you arrested.""What for?" asked Gilbert, coolly."For flying at me like a--a tiger, and tryingto kill me."Gilbert laughed at this curious version of things."I thought it was you who flew at me," he said."What business had you to interfere with me?""I'll do it again unless you give up firingstones at the cat.""I'll do it as long as I like.""She's gone!" said Simon.The boys looked up into the tree, and couldsee nothing of puss. She had taken theopportunity, when her assailant was otherwiseoccupied, to make good her escape."I'm glad of it!" said Gilbert. "Good-morning, boys! When we meet again, I hope youwill be more creditably employed.""You don't get off so easy, you loafer," saidPeter, who saw the village constable approaching."Here, Mr. Rogers, I want you to arrestthis boy."Constable Rogers, who was a stout, broad-shouldered man, nearly six feet in height,turned from one to the other, and asked:"What has he done?""He knocked me over. I want him arrestedfor assault and battery.""And what did you do?""I? I didn't do anything.""That is rather strange. Young man, whatis your name?""Gilbert Vance.""You don't live in this town?""No; I live in Warren.""What made you attack Peter?""Because he flew at me, and I had to defend myself.""Is this so, Simon? You saw all that happened.""Ye--es," admitted Simon, unwillingly."That puts a different face on the matter.I don't see how I can arrest this boy. He hada right to defend himself.""He came up and abused me--the loafer,"said Peter."That was the reason you went at him?""Yes.""Have you anything to say?" asked theconstable, addressing Gilbert."Yes, sir; when I came up I saw this boyfiring stones at a cat, who had taken refugein that tree over there. He had just hit her,and had picked up a larger stone to fire whenI ordered him to drop it.""It was no business of yours," muttered Peter."I made it my business, and will again.""Did the cat have a white spot on her forehead?"asked the constable."Yes, sir.""And was mouse colored?""Yes, sir.""Why, it's my little girl's cat. She wouldbe heartbroken if the cat were seriously hurt.You young rascal!" he continued, turningsuddenly upon Peter, and shaking him vigorously."Let me catch you at this business again, andI'll give you such a warming that you'll neverwant to touch another cat.""Let me go!" cried the terrified boy."I didn't know it was your cat.""It would have been just as bad if it hadbeen somebody else's cat. I ve a great mindto put you in the lockup.""Oh, don't, please don't, Mr. Rogers!"implored Peter, quite panic-stricken."Will you promise never to stone another cat?""Yes, sir.""Then go about your business."Peter lost no time, but scuttled up the streetwith his companion."I am much obliged to you for protectingFlora's cat," then said the constable to Gilbert."You are quite welcome, sir. I won't seeany animal abused if I can help it.""You are right there.""Wasn't that boy Peter Cook?""Yes. Don't you know him?""No; but I know his stepbrother, Carl.""A different sort of boy! Have you cometo visit him?""No; he is visiting me. In fact, he has lefthome, because he could not stand his step-mother's ill-treatment, and I have come to seehis father in his behalf.""He has had an uncomfortable home. Dr.Crawford is an invalid, and very much underthe influence of his wife, who seems to havea spite against Carl, and is devoted to thatyoung cub to whom you have given a lesson.Does Carl want to come back?""No; he wants to strike out for himself, butI told him it was no more than right that heshould receive some help from his father.""That is true enough. For nearly all the doctor'smoney came to him through Carl's mother.""I am afraid Peter and his mother won'tgive me a very cordial welcome after what hashappened this morning. I wish I could seethe doctor alone.""So you can, for there he is coming up the street."Gilbert looked in the direction indicated,and his glance fell on a thin, fragile-lookingman, evidently an invalid, with a weak,undecided face, who was slowly approaching.The boy advanced to meet him, and, takingoff his hat, asked politely: "Is this Dr. Crawford?"CHAPTER IV.AN IMPORTANT CONFERENCE.Dr. Crawford stopped short, and eyed Gilbert attentively."I don't know you," he said, in a querulous tone."I am a schoolmate of your son, Carl.My name is Gilbert Vance.""If you have come to see my son you willbe disappointed. He has treated me in ashameful manner. He left home yesterdaymorning, and I don't know where he is.""I can tell you, sir. He is staying--for aday or two--at my father's house.""Where is that?" asked Dr. Crawford, hismanner showing that he was confused."In Warren, thirteen miles from here.""I know the town. What induced him togo to your house? Have you encouraged himto leave home?" inquired Dr. Crawford, witha look of displeasure."No, sir. It was only by chance that I methim a mile from our home. I induced him tostay overnight.""Did you bring me any message from him?""No, sir, except that he is going to strikeout for himself, as he thinks his home anunhappy one.""That is his own fault. He has had enoughto eat and enough to wear. He has had ascomfortable a home as yourself.""I don't doubt that, but he complains thathis stepmother is continually finding faultwith him, and scolding him.""He provokes her to do it. He is a headstrong,obstinate boy.""He never had that reputation at school, sir.We all liked him.""I suppose you mean to imply that I am infault?" said the doctor, warmly."I don't think you know how badly Mrs. Crawford treats Carl, sir.""Of course, of course. That is always saidof a stepmother.""Not always, sir. I have a stepmothermyself, and no own mother could treat me better.""You are probably a better boy.""I can't accept the compliment. I hopeyou'll excuse me saying it, Dr. Crawford, butif my stepmother treated me as Carl says Mrs. Crawford treats him I wouldn't stay in thehouse another day.""Really, this is very annoying," said Dr.Crawford, irritably. "Have you come herefrom Warren to say this?""No, sir, not entirely.""Perhaps Carl wants me to receive him back.I will do so if he promises to obey his stepmother.""That he won't do, I am sure.""Then what is the object of your visit?""To say that Carl wants and intends to earnhis own living. But it is hard for a boy ofhis age, who has never worked, to earn enoughat first to pay for his board and clothes. Heasks, or, rather, I ask for him, that you willallow him a small sum, say three or fourdollars a week, which is considerably less thanhe must cost you at home, for a time until hegets on his feet.""I don't know," said Dr. Crawford, in avacillating tone. "I don't think Mrs. Crawfordwould approve this.""It seems to me you are the one to decide,as Carl is your own son. Peter must cost youa good deal more.""Do you know Peter?""I have met him," answered Gilbert, witha slight smile."I don't know what to say. You may be right.Peter does cost me more.""And Carl is entitled to be treated as well as he.""I think I ought to speak to Mrs. Crawfordabout it. And, by the way, I nearly forgotto say that she charges Carl with taking moneyfrom her bureau drawer before he went away.It was a large sum, too--twenty-five dollars.""That is false!" exclaimed Gilbert,indignantly. "I am surprised that you shouldbelieve such a thing of your own son.""Mrs. Crawford says she has proof," saidthe doctor, hesitating."Then what has he done with the money?I know that he has but thirty-seven cents withhim at this time, and he only left homeyesterday. If the money has really been taken,I think I know who took it.""Who?""Peter Cook. He looks mean enough for anything.""What right have you to speak so of Peter?""Because I caught him stoning a cat thismorning. He would have killed the poorthing if I had not interfered. I consider thatworse than taking money.""I--I don't know what to say. I can't agreeto anything till I have spoken with Mrs. Crawford.Did you say that Carl had but thirtyseven cents?""Yes, sir; I presume you don't want him to starve?""No, of course not. He is my son, thoughhe has behaved badly. Here, give him that!"and Dr. Crawford drew a ten-dollar bill fromhis wallet, and handed it to Gilbert"Thank you, sir. This money will be veryuseful. Besides, it will show Carl that hisfather is not wholly indifferent to him.""Of course not. Who says that I am a badfather?" asked Dr. Crawford, peevishly."I don't think, sir, there would be anydifficulty between you and Carl if you had notmarried again.""Carl has no right to vex Mrs. Crawford.Besides, he can't agree with Peter.""Is that his fault or Peter's?" asked Gilbert,significantly."I am not acquainted with the circumstances,but Mrs. Crawford says that Carl isalways bullying Peter.""He never bullied anyone at school.""Is there anything, else you want?""Yes, sir; Carl only took away a littleunderclothing in a gripsack. He would like hiswoolen clothes put in his trunk, and to haveit sent----""Where?""Perhaps it had better be sent to my house.There are one or two things in his room alsothat he asked me to get.""Why didn't he come himself?""Because he thought it would be unpleasantfor him to meet Mrs. Crawford. They wouldbe sure to quarrel.""Well, perhaps he is right," said Dr.Crawford, with an air of relief. "About theallowance, I shall have to consult my wife. Willyou come with me to the house?""Yes, sir; I should like to have the mattersettled to-day, so that Carl will know whatto depend upon."Gilbert rather dreaded the interview he waslikely to have with Mrs. Crawford; but he wasacting for Carl, and his feelings of friendshipwere strong.So he walked beside Dr. Crawford till theyreached the tasteful dwelling occupied as aresidence by Carl and his father."How happy Carl could he here, if he hada stepmother like mine," Gilbert thought.They went up to the front door, which wasopened for them by a servant."Jane, is Mrs. Crawford in?" asked the doctor."No, sir; not just now. She went to thevillage to do some shopping.""Is Peter in?""No, sir.""Then you will have to wait till they return.""Can't I go up to Carl's room and be packinghis things?""Yes, I think you may. I don't think Mrs. Crawford would object.""Good heavens! Hasn't the man a mind ofhis own?" thought Gilbert."Jane, you may show this young gentlemanup to Master Carl's room, and give him thekey of his trunk. He is going to pack hisclothes.""When is Master Carl coming back?" asked Jane."I--I don't know. I think he will be awayfor a time.""I wish it was Peter instead of him," saidJane, in a low voice, only audible to Gilbert.She showed Gilbert the way upstairs, whilethe doctor went to his study."Are you a friend of Master Carl's?" askedJane, as soon as they were alone."Yes, Jane.""And where is he?""At my house.""Is he goin' to stay there?""For a short time. He wants to go out intothe world and make his own living.""And no wonder--poor boy! It's hard timeshe had here.""Didn't Mrs. Crawford treat him well?"asked Gilbert, with curiosity"Is it trate him well? She was a-jawin' an'a-jawin' him from mornin' till night. Ugh,but she's an ugly cr'atur'!""How about Peter?""He's just as bad--the m'anest bye I iverset eyes on. It would do me good to see himflogged."She chatted a little longer with Gilbert,helping him to find Carl's clothes, when suddenlya shrill voice was heard calling her from below."Shure, it's the madam!" said Jane, shruggingher shoulders. "I expect she's in a temper;"and she rose from her knees and hurried downstairs.CHAPTER V.CARL'S STEPMOTHER.Five minutes later, as Gilbert was closingthe trunk, Jane reappeared."The doctor and Mrs. Crawford would liketo see you downstairs," she said.Gilbert followed Jane into the library, whereDr. Crawford and his wife were seated. Helooked with interest at the woman who hadmade home so disagreeable to Carl, and wasinstantly prejudiced against her. She was lightcomplexioned, with very light-brown hair,cold, gray eyes, and a disagreeable expressionwhich seemed natural to her."My dear," said the doctor, "this is theyoung man who has come from Carl."Mrs. Crawford surveyed Gilbert with anexpression by no means friendly."What is your name?" she asked."Gilbert Vance.""Did Carl Crawford send you here?""No; I volunteered to come.""Did he tell you that he was disobedient anddisrespectful to me?""No; he told me that you treated him sobadly that he was unwilling to live in thesame house with you," answered Gilbert,boldly."Well, upon my word!" exclaimed Mrs. Crawford, fanning herself vigorously."Dr. Crawford, did you hear that?""Yes.""And what do you think of it?""Well, I think you may have been too hard upon Carl.""Too hard? Why, then, did he not treatme respectfully? This boy seems inclined tobe impertinent.""I answered your questions, madam," saidGilbert, coldly."I suppose you side with your friend Carl?""I certainly do."Mrs. Crawford bit her lip."What is the object of your coming? DoesCarl wish to return?""I thought Dr. Crawford might have told you.""Carl wants his clothes sent to him," saidthe doctor. "He only carried a few with him.""I shall not consent to it. He deserves nofavors at our hands."This was too much even for Dr. Crawford."You go too far, Mrs. Crawford," he said."I am sensible of the boy's faults, but Icertainly will not allow his clothes to bewithheld from him.""Oh, well! spoil him if you choose!" said the lady,sullenly. "Take his part against your wife!""I have never done that, but I will not allowhim to be defrauded of his clothes.""I have no more to say," said Mrs. Crawford,her eyes snapping. She was clearly mortifiedat her failure to carry her point."Do you wish the trunk to be sent to your house?"asked the doctor."Yes, sir; I have packed the clothes andlocked the trunk.""I should like to examine it before it goes,"put in Mrs. Crawford, spitefully."Why?""To make sure that nothing has been putin that does not belong to Carl.""Do you mean to accuse me of stealing,madam?" demanded Gilbert, indignantly.Mrs. Crawford tossed her head."I don't know anything about you," she replied."Dr. Crawford, am I to open the trunk?"asked Gilbert."No," answered the doctor, with unwonted decision."I hate that boy! He has twice subjectedme to mortification," thought Mrs. Crawford."You know very well," she said, turning toher husband, "that I have grounds for myrequest. I blush to mention it, but I havereason to believe that your son took a walletcontaining twenty-five dollars from my bureaudrawer.""I deny it!" said Gilbert."What do you know about it, I should liketo ask?" sneered Mrs. Crawford."I know that Carl is an honorable boy,incapable of theft, and at this moment has butthirty-seven cents in his possession.""So far as you know.""If the money has really disappeared, madam,you had better ask your own boy about it.""This is insufferable!" exclaimed Mrs. Crawford,her light eyes emitting angry flashes."Who dares to say that Peter took the wallet?"she went on, rising to her feet.There was an unexpected reply. Jane enteredthe room at this moment to ask a question."I say so, ma'am," she rejoined."What?" ejaculated Mrs. Crawford, withstartling emphasis."I didn't mean to say anything about it tillI found you were charging it on Master Carl.I saw Peter open your bureau drawer, takeout the wallet, and put it in his pocket.""It's a lie!" said Mrs. Crawford, hoarsely."It's the truth, though I suppose you don'twant to believe it. If you want to know whathe did with the money ask him how much hepaid for the gold ring he bought of the jewelerdown at the village.""You are a spy--a base, dishonorable spy!"cried Mrs. Crawford."I won't say what you are, ma'am, to bringfalse charges against Master Carl, and I wonderthe doctor will believe them.""Leave the house directly, you hussy!"shrieked Mrs. Crawford."If I do, I wonder who'll get the dinner?"remarked Jane, not at all disturbed."I won't stay here to be insulted," said theangry lady. "Dr. Crawford, you might havespirit enough to defend your wife."She flounced out of the room, not waitingfor a reply, leaving the doctor dazed and flurried."I hope, sir, you are convinced now that Carldid not take Mrs. Crawford's money," saidGilbert. "I told you it was probably Peter.""Are you sure of what you said, Jane?"asked the doctor."Yes, sir. I saw Peter take the wallet withmy own eyes.""It is his mother's money, and they mustsettle it between them I am glad Carl didnot take it. Really, this has been a veryunpleasant scene.""I am sorry for my part in it. Carl is myfriend, and I feel that I ought to stand up forhis rights," remarked Gilbert."Certainly, certainly, that is right. Butyou see how I am placed.""I see that this is no place for Carl. If youwill allow me, I will send an expressman forthe trunk, and take it with me to the station.""Yes, I see no objection. I--I would inviteyou to dinner, but Mrs. Crawford seems to besuffering from a nervous attack, and it mightnot be pleasant.""I agree with you, sir."Just then Peter entered the room, and lookedat Gilbert with surprise and wrath, rememberinghis recent discomfiture at the hands ofthe young visitor."My stepson, Peter," announced Dr. Crawford."Peter and I have met before," said Gilbert, smiling."What are you here for?" asked Peter, rudely."Not to see you," answered Gilbert, turning from him."My mother'll have something to say to you,"went on Peter, significantly."She will have something to say to you,"retorted Gilbert. "She has found out whostole her money."Peter's face turned scarlet instantly, and heleft the room hurriedly."Perhaps I ought not to have said that, DrCrawford," added Gilbert, apologetically, "butI dislike that boy very much, and couldn'thelp giving him as good as he sent.""It is all very unpleasant," responded Dr.Crawford, peevishly. "I don't see why I can'tlive in peace and tranquility.""I won't intrude upon you any longer," saidGilbert, "if you will kindly tell me whetheryou will consent to make Carl a small weeklyallowance.""I can't say now. I want time to think.Give me your address, and I will write to Carlin your care.""Very well, sir."Gilbert left the house and made arrangementsto have Carl's trunk called for. Itaccompanied him on the next train to Warren.CHAPTER VI.Mrs. CRAWFORD'S LETTER."How did you like my stepmother?" askedCarl, when Gilbert returned in the afternoon."She's a daisy!" answered Gilbert,shrugging his shoulders. "I don't think I ever sawa more disagreeable woman.""Do you blame me for leaving home?""I only wonder you have been able to stay so long.I had a long conversation with your father.""Mrs. Crawford has made a different man of him.I should have no trouble in getting along with himif there was no one to come between us.""He gave me this for you," said Gilbert,producing the ten-dollar bill."Did my stepmother know of his sending it?""No; she was opposed to sending your trunk,but your father said emphatically you should have it.""I am glad he showed that much spirit.""I have some hopes that he will make youan allowance of a few dollars a week.""That would make me all right, but I don't expect it.""You will probably hear from your fatherto-morrow or next day, so you will have tomake yourself contented a little longer.""I hope you are not very homesick, Mr.Crawford?" said Julia, coquettishly."I would ask nothing better than to stayhere permanently," rejoined Carl, earnestly."This is a real home. I have met with morekindness here than in six months at my ownhome.""You have one staunch friend at home,"said Gilbert."You don't allude to Peter?""So far as I can judge, he hates you likepoison. I mean Jane.""Yes, Jane is a real friend. She has beenin the family for ten years. She was a favoritewith my own mother, and feels an interest in me.""By the way, your stepmother's charge thatyou took a wallet containing money from herdrawer has been disproved by Jane. She sawPeter abstracting the money, and so informedMrs. Crawford.""I am not at all surprised. Peter is meanenough to steal or do anything else. Whatdid my stepmother say?""She was very angry, and threatened todischarge Jane; but, as no one would be left toattend to the dinner, I presume she is likelyto stay.""I ought to be forming some plan," said Carl,thoughtfully."Wait till you hear from home. Julia willsee that your time is well filled up till then.Dismiss all care, and enjoy yourself while you may."This seemed to be sensible advice, and Carlfollowed it. In the evening some young peoplewere invited in, and there was a round ofamusements that made Carl forget that he wasan exile from home, with very dubious prospects."You are all spoiling me," he said, asGilbert and he went upstairs to bed. "I ambeginning to understand the charms of home. Togo out into the world from here will be liketaking a cold shower bath.""Never forget, Carl, that you will bewelcome back, whenever you feel like coming,"said Gilbert, laying his band affectionately onCarl's shoulder. "We all like you here.""Thank you, old fellow! I appreciate thekindness I have received here; but I must strikeout for myself.""How do you feel about it, Carl?""I hope for the best. I am young, strongand willing to work. There must be an openingfor me somewhere."The next morning, just after breakfast, a letterarrived for Carl, mailed at Edgewood Center."Is it from your father?" asked Gilbert."No; it is in the handwriting of mystepmother. I can guess from that that itcontains no good news."He opened the letter, and as he read it hisface expressed disgust and annoyance."Read it, Gilbert," he said, handing him theopen sheet.This was the missive:"CARL CRAWFORD:--AS your father has anervous attack, brought on by your misconduct,he has authorized me to write to you.As you are but sixteen, he could send for youand have you forcibly brought back, but deemsit better for you to follow your own courseand suffer the punishment of your obstinateand perverse conduct. The boy whom yousent here proved a fitting messenger. Heseems, if possible, to be even worse thanyourself. He was very impertinent to me, and madea brutal and unprovoked attack on my poorboy, Peter, whose devotion to your father andmyself forms an agreeable contrast to yourstudied disregard of our wishes."Your friend had the assurance to ask fora weekly allowance for you while a voluntaryexile from the home where you have been onlytoo well treated. In other words, you wantto be paid for your disobedience. Even if yourfather were weak enough to think of complyingwith this extraordinary request, I shoulddo my best to dissuade him.""Small doubt of that!" said Carl, bitterly."In my sorrow for your waywardness, I amcomforted by the thought that Peter is toogood and conscientious ever to follow yourexample. While you are away, he will do hisutmost to make up to your father for hisdisappointment in you. That you may grow wisein time, and turn at length from the error ofyour ways, is the earnest hope of your stepmother,Anastasia Crawford.""It makes me sick to read such a letter asthat, Gilbert," said Carl. "And to have thatsneak and thief--as he turned out to be--Peter,set up as a model for me, is a little too much.""I never knew there were such women in theworld!" returned Gilbert. "I can understandyour feelings perfectly, after my interview ofyesterday.""She thinks even worse of you than of me,"said Carl, with a faint smile."I have no doubt Peter shares hersentiments. I didn't make many friends in yourfamily, it must be confessed.""You did me a service, Gilbert, and I shallnot soon forget it.""Where did your stepmother come from?"asked Gilbert, thoughtfully."I don't know. My father met her at somesummer resort. She was staying in the sameboarding house, she and the angelic Peter. Shelost no time in setting her cap for my father,who was doubtless reported to her as a manof property, and she succeeded in capturing him.""I wonder at that. She doesn't seem very fascinating.""She made herself very agreeable to myfather, and was even affectionate in her mannerto me, though I couldn't get to like her.The end was that she became Mrs. Crawford.Once installed in our house, she soon threwoff the mask and showed herself in her true colors,a cold-hearted, selfish and disagreeable woman.""I wonder your father doesn't recognize herfor what she is.""She is very artful, and is politic enough totreat him well. She has lost no opportunityof prejudicing him against me. If he werenot an invalid she would find her task moredifficult.""Did she have any property when yourfather married her?""Not that I have been able to discover. Sheis scheming to have my father leave the lion'sshare of his property to her and Peter. I daresay she will succeed.""Let us hope your father will live till youare a young man, at least, and better able tocope with her.""I earnestly hope so.""Your father is not an old man.""He is fifty-one, but he is not strong. Ibelieve he has liver complaint. At any rate,I know that when, at my stepmother's instigation,he applied to an insurance company toinsure his life for her benefit, the applicationwas rejected.""You don't know anything of Mrs. Crawford'santecedents?""No.""What was her name before she marriedyour father?""She was a Mrs. Cook. That, as you know,is Peter's name.""Perhaps, in your travels, you may learnsomething of her history.""I should like to do so.""You won't leave us to-morrow?""I must go to-day. I know now that I mustdepend wholly upon my own exertions, andI must get to work as soon as possible.""You will write to me, Carl?""Yes, when I have anything agreeable to write.""Let us hope that will be soon."CHAPTER VII.ENDS IN A TRAGEDY.Carl obtained permission to leave his trunkat the Vance mansion, merely taking out whathe absolutely needed for a change."When I am settled I will send for it," he said."Now I shouldn't know what to do with it."There were cordial good-bys, and Carlstarted once more on the tramp. He might,indeed, have traveled by rail, for he had tendollars and thirty-seven cents; but it occurredto him that in walking he might meet withsome one who would give him employment.Besides, he was not in a hurry to get on, nor hadhe any definite destination. The day was fine,there was a light breeze, and he experienceda hopeful exhilaration as he walked lightly on,with the world before him, and any numberof possibilities in the way of fortunateadventures that might befall him.He had walked five miles, when, to the left,he saw an elderly man hard at work in a hayfield. He was leaning on his rake, and look-ing perplexed and troubled. Carl paused torest, and as he looked over the rail fence,attracted the attention of the farmer."I say, young feller, where are you goin'?" he asked."I don't know--exactly.""You don't know where you are goin'?"repeated the farmer, in surprise.Carl laughed. "I am going out in the worldto seek my fortune," he said."You be? Would you like a job?" asked the farmer, eagerly."What sort of a job?""I'd like to have you help me hayin'. Myhired man is sick, and he's left me in a hole.It's goin' to rain, and----""Going to rain?" repeated Carl, in surprise,as he looked up at the nearly cloudless sky."Yes. It don't look like it, I know, butold Job Hagar say it'll rain before night, andwhat he don't know about the weather ain'tworth knowin'. I want to get the hay on thismeadow into the barn, and then I'll feel safe,rain or shine.""And you want me to help you?""Yes; you look strong and hardy.""Yes, I am pretty strong," said Carl, complacently."Well, what do you say?""All right. I'll help you."Carl gave a spring and cleared the fence,landing in the hay field, having first thrownhis valise over."You're pretty spry," said the farmer."I couldn't do that.""No, you're too heavy," said Carl, smiling,as he noted the clumsy figure of his employer."Now, what shall I do?""Take that rake and rake up the hay. Then we'llgo over to the barn and get the hay wagon.""Where is your barn?"The farmer pointed across the fields to astory-and-a-half farmhouse, and standing nearit a good-sized barn, brown from want of paintand exposure to sun and rain. The buildingswere perhaps twenty-five rods distant."Are you used to hayin'?" asked the farmer."Well, no, not exactly; though I've handleda rake before."Carl's experience, however, had been verylimited. He had, to be sure, had a rake in hishand, but probably he had not worked morethan ten minutes at it. However, raking iseasily learned, and his want of experience wasnot detected. He started off with greatenthusiasm, but after a while thought it best toadopt the more leisurely movements of thefarmer. After two hours his hands began toblister, but still he kept on."I have got to make my living by hard work,"he said to himself, "and it won't do to let sucha little thing as a blister interfere."When he had been working a couple of hours,he began to feel hungry. His walk, and thework he had been doing, sharpened his appetitetill he really felt uncomfortable. It wasat this time--just twelve o'clock--that thefarmer's wife came to the front door and blewa fish horn so vigorously that it could probablyhave been heard half a mile."The old woman's got dinner ready," saidthe farmer. "If you don't mind takin' yourpay in victuals, you can go along home withme, and take a bite.""I think I could take two or three, sir.""Ho, ho! that's a good joke! Money's scarce,and I'd rather pay in victuals, if it's all thesame to you.""Do you generally find people willing towork for their board?" asked Carl, who knewthat he was being imposed upon."Well, I might pay a leetle more. You workfor me till sundown, and I'll give you dinnerand supper, and--fifteen cents."Carl wanted to laugh. At this rate ofcompensation he felt that it would take a long timeto make a fortune, but he was so hungry thathe would have accepted board alone if it hadbeen necessary."I agree," he said. "Shall I leave my rake here?""Yes; it'll be all right.""I'll take along my valise, for I can'tafford to run any risk of losing it.""Jest as you say."Five minutes brought them to the farmhouse."Can I wash my hands?" asked Carl."Yes, you can go right to the sink and washin the tin basin. There's a roll towel behindthe door. Mis' Perkins"--that was the wayhe addressed his wife--"this is a young chapthat I've hired to help me hayin'. You canset a chair for him at the table.""All right, Silas. He don't look very old, though.""No, ma'am. I ain't twenty-one yet,"answered Carl, who was really sixteen."I shouldn't say you was. You ain't nosigns of a mustache.""I keep it short, ma'am, in warm weather," said Carl."It don't dull a razor any to cut it in coldweather, does it?" asked the farmer, chucklingat his joke."Well, no, sir; I can't say it does."It was a boiled dinner that the farmer'swife provided, corned beef and vegetables, butthe plebeian meal seemed to Carl the best heever ate. Afterwards there was apple pudding,to which he did equal justice."I never knew work improved a fellow'sappetite so," reflected the young traveler."I never ate with so much relish at home."After dinner they went back to the fieldand worked till the supper hour, five o'clock.By that time all the hay had been put into the barn."We've done a good day's work," said thefarmer, in a tone of satisfaction, "and onlyjust in time. Do you see that dark cloud?""Yes, sir.""In half an hour there'll be rain, or I'm mistaken.Old Job Hagar is right after all."The farmer proved a true prophet. In halfan hour, while they were at the supper table,the rain began to come down in large drops--forming pools in the hollows of the ground,and drenching all exposed objects with thelargesse of the heavens."Where war you a-goin' to-night?" asked the farmer."I don't know, sir.""I was thinkin' that I'd give you a night'slodgin' in place of the fifteen cents I agreedto pay you. Money's very skeerce with me,and will be till I've sold off some of the crops.""I shall be glad to make that arrangement,"said Carl, who had been considering how muchthe farmer would ask for lodging, for thereseemed small chance of continuing his journey.Fifteen cents was a lower price than he hadcalculated on."That's a sensible idea!" said the farmer,rubbing his hands with satisfaction at thethought that he had secured valuable help atno money outlay whatever.The next morning Carl continued his tramp,refusing the offer of continued employment onthe same terms. He was bent on pursuinghis journey, though he did not know exactlywhere he would fetch up in the end.At twelve o'clock that day he found himselfin the outskirts of a town, with the sameuncomfortable appetite that he had felt theday before, but with no hotel or restaurantanywhere near. There was, however, a smallhouse, the outer door of which stood convenientlyopen. Through the open window, Carl saw a tablespread as if for dinner, and he thought it probablethat he could arrange to become a boarder fora single meal. He knocked at the door, but no one came.He shouted out: "Is anybody at home?" and receivedno answer. He went to a small barn just outsideand peered in, but no one was to be seen.What should he do? He was terribly hungry,and the sight of the food on the table wastantalizing."I'll go in, as the door is open," he decided,"and sit down to the table and eat. Somebodywill be along before I get through, and I'llpay whatever is satisfactory, for eat I must."He entered, seated himself, and ate heartily.Still no one appeared."I don't want to go off without paying,"thought Carl. "I'll see if I can find somebody."He opened the door into the kitchen, but itwas deserted. Then he opened that of a smallbedroom, and started back in terror and dismay.There suspended from a hook--a man ofmiddle age was hanging, with his head bentforward, his eyes wide open, and his tongueprotruding from his mouth!CHAPTER VIII.CARL FALLS UNDER SUSPICION.To a person of any age such a sight as thatdescribed at the close of the last chapter mightwell have proved startling. To a boy likeCarl it was simply overwhelming. It so happenedthat he had but twice seen a dead person,and never a victim of violence. The peculiarcircumstances increased the effect upon his mind.He placed his hand upon the man's face, andfound that he was still warm. He could havebeen dead but a short time."What shall I do?" thought Carl, perplexed."This is terrible!"Then it flashed upon him that as he wasalone with the dead man suspicion might fallupon him as being concerned in what night becalled a murder."I had better leave here at once," he reflected."I shall have to go away without paying for my meal."He started to leave the house, but hadscarcely reached the door when two persons--a man and a woman--entered. Both lookedat Carl with suspicion."What are you doing here?" asked the man."I beg your pardon," answered Carl; "Iwas very hungry, and seeing no one about, tookthe liberty to sit down at the table and eat.I am willing to pay for my dinner if you willtell me how much it amounts to.""Wasn't my husband here?" asked the woman."I--I am afraid something has happened to your husband,"faltered Carl."What do you mean?"Carl silently pointed to the chamber door.The woman opened it, and uttered a loud shriek."Look here, Walter!" she cried.Her companion quickly came to her side."My husband is dead!" cried the woman;"basely murdered, and there," pointing fiercelyto Carl, "there stands the murderer!""Madam, you cannot believe this!" said Carl,naturally agitated."What have you to say for yourself?"demanded the man, suspiciously."I only just saw--your husband," continuedCarl, addressing himself to the woman. "Ihad finished my meal, when I began to searchfor some one whom I could pay, and so openedthis door into the room beyond, when I saw--him hanging there!""Don't believe him, the red-handedmurderer!" broke out the woman, fiercely. "Heis probably a thief; he killed my poor husband,and then sat down like a cold-blooded villainthat he is, and gorged himself."Things began to look very serious for poor Carl."Your husband is larger and stronger than myself,"he urged, desperately. "How could I overpower him?""It looks reasonable, Maria," said the man."I don't see how the boy could have killed Mr.Brown, or lifted him upon the hook, even ifhe did not resist.""He murdered him, I tell you, he murdered him!"shrieked the woman, who seemed bereft of reason."I call upon you to arrest him.""I am not a constable, Maria.""Then tie him so he cannot get away, andgo for a constable. I wouldn't feel safe withhim in the house, unless he were tied fast.He might hang me!"Terrible as the circumstances were, Carl feltan impulse to laugh. It seemed absurd to hearhimself talked of in this way."Tie me if you like!" he said. "I am will-ing to wait here till some one comes who hasa little common sense. Just remember thatI am only a boy, and haven't the strength ofa full-grown man!""The boy is right, Maria! It's a foolish idea of yours.""I call upon you to tie the villain!" insisted the woman."Just as you say! Can you give me some rope?"From a drawer Mrs. Brown drew a quantityof strong cord, and the man proceeded totie Carl's hands."Tie his feet, too, Walter!""Even if you didn't tie me, I would promiseto remain here. I don't want anybody tosuspect me of such a thing," put in Carl."How artful he is!" said Mrs. Brown."Tie him strong, Walter."The two were left alone, Carl feeling decidedlyuncomfortable. The newly-made widowlaid her head upon the table and moaned,glancing occasionally at the body of her husband,as it still hung suspended from the hook."Oh, William, I little expected to find youdead!" she groaned. "I only went to the storeto buy a pound of salt, and when I come back,I find you cold and still, the victim of a youngruffian! How could you be so wicked?" shedemanded fiercely of Carl."I have told you that I had nothing to dowith your husband's death, madam.""Who killed him, then?" she cried."I don't know. He must have committed suicide.""Don't think you are going to escape in that way.I won't rest till I see you hung!""I wish I had never entered the house,"thought Carl, uncomfortably. "I would ratherhave gone hungry for twenty four hours longerthan find myself in such a position."Half an hour passed. Then a sound of voiceswas heard outside, and half a dozen menentered, including besides the messenger, theconstable and a physician."Why was he not cut down?" asked the doctor, hastily."There might have been a chance to resuscitate him.""I didn't think of it," said the messenger."Maria was so excited, and insisted that theboy murdered him.""What boy?"Carl was pointed out."That boy? What nonsense!" exclaimed Dr. Park."Why, it would be more than you or I could doto overpower and hang a man weighing one hundredand seventy-five pounds.""That's what I thought, but Maria seemed crazed like.""I tell you he did it! Are you going to let him go,the red-handed murderer?""Loose the cord, and I will question the boy,"said Dr. Park, with an air of authority.Carl breathed a sigh of relief, when,freed from his bonds, he stood upright."I'll tell you all I know," he said, "but itwon't throw any light upon the death."Dr. Park listened attentively, and asked oneor two questions."Did you hear any noise when you were sittingat the table?" he inquired."No, sir.""Was the door closed?""Yes, sir.""That of itself would probably prevent yourhearing anything. Mrs. Brown, at what hourdid you leave the house?""At ten minutes of twelve.""It is now five minutes of one. The deedmust have been committed just after you leftthe house. Had you noticed anything out ofthe way in your--husband's manner?""No, sir, not much. He was always a silent man.""Had anything happened to disturb him?""He got a letter this morning. I don't knowwhat was in it.""We had better search for it."The body was taken down and laid on thebed. Dr. Park searched the pockets, andfound a half sheet of note paper, on whichthese lines were written:"Maria:--I have made up my mind I canive no longer. I have made a terriblediscovery. When I married you, I thought myfirst wife, who deserted me four years ago,dead. I learn by a letter received this morningthat she is still living in a town of Illinois.The only thing I can do is to free youboth from my presence. When you come backfrom the store you will find me cold and dead.The little that I leave behind I give to you. Ifmy first wife should come here, as she threatens,you can tell her so. Good-by."William."The reading of this letter made a sensation.Mrs. Brown went into hysterics, and there wasa scene of confusion."Do you think I can go?" Carl asked Dr. Park."Yes. There is nothing to connect you with the sad event."Carl gladly left the cottage, and it was onlywhen he was a mile on his way that he rememberedthat he had not paid for his dinner, after all.CHAPTER IX.A PLAUSIBLE STRANGER.Three days later found Carl still on his travels.It was his custom to obtain his meals at acheap hotel, or, if none were met with, at afarmhouse, and to secure lodgings where hecould, and on as favorable terms as possible.He realized the need of economy, and felt thathe was practicing it. He had changed his ten-dollar bill the first day, for a five and severalones. These last were now spent, and the five-dollar bill alone remained to him. He hadearned nothing, though everywhere he had beenon the lookout for a job.Toward the close of the last day he overtooka young man of twenty-five, who was travelingin the same direction."Good-afternoon," said the young man, sociably."Good-afternoon, sir.""Where are you bound, may I ask?""To the next town.""Fillmore?""Yes, if that is the name.""So am I. Why shouldn't we travel together?""I have no objection," said Carl, who wasglad of company."Are you in any business?""No, but I hope to find a place.""Oh, a smart boy like you will soon find employment.""I hope so, I am sure. I haven't much moneyleft, and it is necessary I should do something.""Just so. I am a New York salesman, butjust now I am on my vacation--taking a pedestriantour with knapsack and staff, as you see.The beauty of it is that my salary runs on justas if I were at my post, and will nearly payall my traveling expenses.""You are in luck. Besides you have a good placeto go back to. There isn't any vacancy, is there?You couldn't take on a boy?" asked Carl, eagerly."Well, there might be a chance," said theyoung man, slowly. "You haven't any recommendationswith you, have you?""No; I have never been employed.""It doesn't matter. I will recommend you myself.""You might be deceived in me," said Carl, smiling."I'll take the risk of that. I know a reliableboy when I see him.""Thank you. What is the name of your firm?""F. Brandes & Co., commission merchants,Pearl Street. My own name is Chauncy Hubbard,at your service.""I am Carl Crawford.""That's a good name. I predict that we shallbe great chums, if I manage to get you a placein our establishment.""Is Mr. Brandes a good man to work for?""Yes, he is easy and good-natured. He is liberalto his clerks. What salary do you think I get?""I couldn't guess.""Forty dollars a week, and I am only twenty-five.Went into the house at sixteen, and worked my way up.""You have certainly done well," said Carl, respectfully."Well, I'm no slouch, if I do say it myself.""I don't wonder your income pays theexpenses of your vacation trip.""It ought to, that's a fact, though I'm ratherfree handed and like to spend money. My prospectsare pretty good in another direction. OldFred Brandes has a handsome daughter, whothinks considerable of your humble servant.""Do you think there is any chance of marrying her?"asked Carl, with interest."I think my chance is pretty good, as the girlwon't look at anybody else.""Is Mr. Brandes wealthy?""Yes, the old man's pretty well fixed,worth nearly half a million, I guess.""Perhaps he will take you into the firm,"suggested Carl."Very likely. That's what I'm working for.""At any rate, you ought to save somethingout of your salary.""I ought, but I haven't. The fact is, Carl,"said Chauncy Hubbard, in a burst ofconfidence, I have a great mind to make aconfession to you.""I shall feel flattered, I am sure," said Carl,politely."I have one great fault--I gamble.""Do you?" said Carl, rather startled, for hehad been brought up very properly to have ahorror of gambling."Yes, I suppose it's in my blood. My fatherwas a very rich man at one time, but he lostnearly all his fortune at the gaming table.""That ought to have been a warning to you,I should think.""It ought, and may be yet, for I am still ayoung man.""Mr. Hubbard," said Carl, earnestly, "I feelrather diffident about advising you, for I amonly a boy, but I should think you would giveup such a dangerous habit.""Say no more, Carl! You are a true friend.I will try to follow your advice. Give me your hand."Carl did so, and felt a warm glow of pleasureat the thought that perhaps he had redeemedhis companion from a fascinating vice."I really wish I had a sensible boy like youto be my constant companion. I should feel safer.""Do you really have such a passion forgambling, then?""Yes; if at the hotel to-night I should seea party playing poker, I could not resist joiningthem. Odd, isn't it?""I am glad I have no such temptation.""Yes, you are lucky. By the way, how muchmoney have you about you?""Five dollars.""Then you can do me a favor. I have a ten-dollar bill, which I need to get me home. Now,I would like to have you keep a part of it forme till I go away in the morning. Give meyour five, and I will hand you ten. Out ofthat you can pay my hotel bill and hand me thebalance due me in the morning.""If you really wish me to do so.""Enough said. Here is the ten."Carl took the bill, and gave Mr. Hubbard hisfive-dollar note."You are placing considerable confidence in me," he said."I am, it is true, but I have no fear of being deceived.You are a boy who naturally inspires confidence."Carl thought Mr. Chauncy Hubbard a veryagreeable and sensible fellow, and he feltflattered to think that the young man had chosenhim as a guardian, so to speak."By the way, Carl, you haven't told me,"said Hubbard, as they pursued their journey,"how a boy like yourself is forced to work hisown way.""I can tell you the reason very briefly--I have a stepmother.""I understand. Is your father living?""Yes.""But he thinks more of the stepmother than of you?""I am afraid he does.""You have my sympathy, Carl. I will do allI can to help you. If you can only get a placein our establishment, you will be all right.Step by step you will rise, till you come tostand where I do.""That would satisfy me. Has Mr. Brandesgot another daughter?""No, there is only one.""Then I shall have to be content with theforty dollars a week. If I ever get it, I willsave half.""I wish I could.""You can if you try. Why, you might havetwo thousand dollars saved up now, if you hadonly begun to save in time.""I have lost more than that at the gamingtable. You will think me very foolish.""Yes, I do," said Carl, frankly."You are right. But here we are almost atthe village.""Is there a good hotel?""Yes--the Fillmore. We will take adjoiningrooms if you say so.""Very well.""And in the morning you will pay the bill?""Certainly."The two travelers had a good supper, andretired early, both being fatigued with the journey.It was not till eight o'clock the next morningthat Carl opened his eyes. He dressed hastily,and went down to breakfast. He was rather surprisednot to see his companion of the day before."Has Mr. Hubbard come down yet?" he asked at the desk."Yes; he took an early breakfast, and wentoff by the first train.""That is strange. I was to pay his bill.""He paid it himself."Carl did not know what to make of this.Had Hubbard forgotten that he had five dollarsbelonging to him? Fortunately, Carl hadhis city address, and could refund the moneyin New York."Very well! I will pay my own bill. How much is it?""A dollar and a quarter."Carl took the ten-dollar bill from his walletand tendered it to the clerk.Instead of changing it at once, the clerk heldit up to the light and examined it critically."I can't take that bill," he said, abruptly."Why not?""Because it is counterfeit."Carl turned pale, and the room seemed towhirl round. It was all the money he had.CHAPTER X.THE COUNTERFEIT BILL."Are you sure it is counterfeit?" asked Carl,very much disturbed."I am certain of it. I haven't been handlingbank bills for ten years without being ableto tell good money from bad. I'll troubleyou for another bill.""That's all the money I have," faltered Carl."Look here, young man," said the clerk, sternly,"you are trying a bold game, but it won't succeed.""I am trying no game at all," said Carl,plucking up spirit. "I thought the billwas good.""Where did you get it?""From the man who came with me last evening--Mr. Hubbard.""The money he gave me was good.""What did he give you?""A five-dollar bill.""It was my five-dollar bill," said Carl, bitterly."Your story doesn't seem very probable,"said the clerk, suspiciously. "How did hehappen to get your money, and you his?""He told me that he would get to gambling,and wished me to take money enough to payhis bill here. He handed me the ten-dollarbill which you say is bad, and I gave him fivein return. I think now he only wanted toget good money for bad.""Your story may be true, or it may not,"said the clerk, whose manner indicated incredulity."That is nothing to me. All you have to dois to pay your hotel bill, and you can settlewith Mr. Hubbard when you see him.""But I have no other money," said Carl, desperately."Then I shall feel justified in ordering yourarrest on a charge of passing, or trying to pass,counterfeit money.""Don't do that, sir! I will see that you arepaid out of the first money I earn.""You must think I am soft," said the clerk,contemptuously. "I have seen persons of yourstripe before. I dare say, if you were searched,more counterfeit money would be found inyour pockets.""Search me, then!" cried Carl, indignantly."I am perfectly willing that you should.""Haven't you any relations who will pay your bill?""I have no one to call upon," answered Carl, soberly."Couldn't you let me work it out?I am ready to do any kind of work.""Our list of workers is full," said the clerk, coldly.Poor Carl! he felt that he was decidedlyin a tight place. He had never before foundhimself unable to meet his bills. nor wouldhe have been so placed now but for Hubbard'srascality. A dollar and a quarter seems asmall sum, but if you are absolutely pennilessit might as well be a thousand. Supposehe should be arrested and the story getinto the papers? How his stepmother wouldexult in the record of his disgrace! He couldanticipate what she would say. Peter, too,would rejoice, and between them both his fatherwould be persuaded that he was thoroughly unprincipled."What have you got in your valise?" asked the clerk."Only some underclothing. If there wereanything of any value I would cheerfully leaveit as security. Wait a minute, though," hesaid, with a sudden thought. "Here is a goldpencil! It is worth five dollars; at any rate,it cost more than that. I can place that inyour hands.""Let me see it."Carl handed the clerk a neat gold pencil,on which his name was inscribed. It was evidentlyof good quality, and found favor withthe clerk."I'll give you a dollar and a quarter for thepencil," he said, "and call it square.""I wouldn't like to sell it," said Carl."You won't get any more for it.""I wasn't thinking of that; but it was givenme by my mother, who is now dead. I wouldnot like to part with anything that she gave me.""You would prefer to get off scot-free, Isuppose?" retorted the clerk, with a sneer."No; I am willing to leave it in your hands,but I should like the privilege of redeemingit when I have the money.""Very well," said the clerk, who reflectedthat in all probability Carl would never comeback for it. "I'll take it on those conditions."Carl passed over the pencil with a sigh. Hedidn't like to part with it, even for a shorttime, but there seemed no help for it."All right. I will mark you paid."Carl left the hotel, satchel in hand, and ashe passed out into the street, reflected witha sinking heart that he was now quite penniless.Where was he to get his dinner, andhow was he to provide himself with a lodgingthat night? At present he was not hungry,having eaten a hearty breakfast at thehotel, but by one o'clock he would feel the needof food. He began to ask himself if, after all,he had not been unwise in leaving home, nomatter how badly he had been treated by hisstepmother. There, at least, he was certainof living comfortably. Now he was in dangerof starvation, and on two occasions alreadyhe had incurred suspicion, once of beingconcerned in a murder, and just now ofpassing counterfeit money. Ought he to havesubmitted, and so avoided all these perils?"No!" he finally decided; "I won't give upthe ship yet. I am about as badly off as Ican be; I am without a cent, and don't knowwhere my next meal is to come from. Butmy luck may turn--it must turn--it hasturned!" he exclaimed with energy, as hiswandering glance suddenly fell upon a silverquarter of a dollar, nearly covered up withthe dust of the street. "That shall prove agood omen!"He stooped over and picked up the coin,which he put in his vest pocket.It was wonderful how the possession of thissmall sum of money restored his courage andraised his spirits. He was sure of a dinnernow, at all events. It looked as if Providencewas smiling on him.Two miles farther on Carl overtook a boyof about his own age trudging along the roadwith a rake over his shoulder. He wore overalls,and was evidently a farmer's boy."Good-day!" said Carl, pleasantly, noticingthat the boy regarded him with interest."Good-day!" returned the country lad,rather bashfully."Can you tell me if there is any place nearwhere I can buy some dinner?""There ain't no tavern, if that's what you mean.I'm goin' home to dinner myself.""Where do you live?""Over yonder."He pointed to a farmhouse about a dozen rods away."Do you think your mother would give me some dinner?""I guess she would. Mam's real accommodatin'.""Will you ask her?""Yes; just come along of me."He turned into the yard, and followed anarrow path to the back door."I'll stay here while you ask," said Carl.The boy entered the house, and came outafter a brief absence."Mam says you're to come in," he said.Carl, glad at heart, and feeling quiteprepared to eat fifty cents' worth of dinner,followed the boy inside.A pleasant-looking, matronly woman,plainly but neatly attired, came forward togreet him."Nat says you would like to get some dinner," she said."Yes," answered Carl. "I hope you'll excusemy applying to you, but your son tells methere is no hotel near by.""The nearest one is three miles away from here.""I don't think I can hold out so long," saidCarl, smiling."Sit right down with Nat," said the farmer'swife, hospitably. "Mr. Sweetser won't behome for half an hour. We've got enough,such as it is."Evidently Mrs. Sweetser was a good cook.The dinner consisted of boiled mutton, withseveral kinds of vegetables. A cup of tea andtwo kinds of pie followed.It was hard to tell which of the two boys didfuller justice to the meal. Nat had the usualappetite of a healthy farm boy, and Carl, inspite of his recent anxieties, and narrow escapefrom serious peril, did not allow himselfto fall behind."Your mother's a fine cook!" said Carl,between two mouthfuls."Ain't she, though?" answered Nat, hismouth full of pie.When Carl rose from the table he feared thathe had eaten more than his little stock ofmoney would pay for."How much will it be, Mrs. Sweetser?" he asked."Oh, you're quite welcome to all you've had,"said the good woman, cheerily. "It's plainfarmer's fare.""I never tasted a better dinner," said Carl.Mrs. Sweetser seemed pleased with thecompliment to her cooking."Come again when you are passing this way," she said."You will always be welcome to a dinner."Carl thanked her heartily, and pressed onhis way. Two hours later, at a lonely pointof the road, an ill-looking tramp, who had beenreclining by the wayside, jumped up, andaddressed him in a menacing tone:"Young feller, shell over all the money youhave got, or I'll hurt you! I'm hard up, andI won't stand no nonsense."Carl started and looked into the face of the tramp.It seemed to him that he had never seen a man moreill-favored, or villainous-looking.CHAPTER XI.THE ARCHERY PRIZE.Situated as he was, it seemed, on second thought,rather a joke to Carl to be attacked by a robber.He had but twenty-five cents in good money about him,and that he had just picked up by the merest chance."Do I look like a banker?" he asked,humorously. "Why do you want to rob a boy?""The way you're togged out, you must havesomething," growled the tramp, "and I haven'tgot a penny.""Your business doesn't seem to pay, then?""Don't you make fun of me, or I'll wring your neck!Just hand over your money and be quick about it!I haven't time to stand fooling here all day."A bright idea came to Carl. He couldn't sparethe silver coin, which constituted all his available wealth,but he still had the counterfeit note."You won't take all my money, will you?"he said, earnestly."How much have you got?" asked the tramp,pricking up his ears.Carl, with apparent reluctance, drew out theten-dollar bill.The tramp's face lighted up."Is your name Vanderbilt?" he asked."I didn't expect to make such a haul.""Can't you give me back a dollar out of it?I don't want to lose all I have.""I haven't got a cent. You'll have to wait tillwe meet again. So long, boy! You've helpedme out of a scrape.""Or into one," thought Carl.The tramp straightened up, buttoned hisdilapidated coat, and walked off with theconsciousness of being a capitalist.Carl watched him with a smile."I hope I won't meet him after he has discoveredthat the bill is a counterfeit," he said to himself.He congratulated himself upon being still the possessorof twenty-five cents in silver. It was not much,but it seemed a great deal better than being penniless.A week before he would have thought it impossible thatsuch a paltry sum would have made him feel comfortable,but he had passed through a great deal since then.About the middle of the afternoon he cameto a field, in which something appeared to begoing on. Some forty or fifty young persons,boys and girls, were walking about the grass,and seemed to be preparing for some interestingevent.Carl stopped to rest and look on."What's going on here?" he asked of a boywho was sitting on the fence."It's a meeting of the athletic association,"said the boy."What are they doing?""They try for prizes in jumping, vaulting,archery and so on."This interested Carl, who excelled in allmanly exercises."I suppose I may stay and look on?" he said, inquiringly."Why, of course. Jump over the fence andI'll go round with you."It seemed pleasant to Carl to associate oncemore with boys of his own age. Thrownunexpectedly upon his own resources, he hadalmost forgotten that he was a boy. Face toface with a cold and unsympathizing world,he seemed to himself twenty-five at least."Those who wish to compete for the archeryprize will come forward," announced RobertGardiner, a young man of nineteen, who, asCarl learned, was the president of the association."You all understand the conditions. The entry feeto competitors is ten cents. The prize to the mostsuccessful archer is one dollar."Several boys came forward and paid the entrance fee."Would you like to compete?" asked Edward Downie,the boy whose acquaintance Carl had made."I am an outsider," said Carl. "I don'tbelong to the association.""I'll speak to the president, if you like.""I don't want to intrude.""It won't be considered an intrusion. Youpay the entrance fee and take your chances."Edward went to the president and spoke tohim in a low voice. The result was that headvanced to Carl, and said, courteously:"If you would like to enter into our games,you are quite at liberty to do so.""Thank you," responded Carl. "I have hada little practice in archery, and will enter myname for that prize."He paid over his quarter and received backfifteen cents in change. It seemed rather animprudent outlay, considering his small capital;but he had good hopes of carrying off the prize,and that would be a great lift for him.Seven boys entered besides Carl. The first wasVictor Russell, a lad of fourteen, whose arrowwent three feet above the mark."The prize is mine if none of you do betterthan that," laughed Victor, good-naturedly."I hope not, for the credit of the club," saidthe president. "Mr. Crawford, will you shoot next?""I would prefer to be the last," said Carl, modestly."John Livermore, your turn now."John came a little nearer than his predecessor,but did not distinguish himself."If that is a specimen of the skill of the clubmen,"thought Carl, "my chance is a good one."Next came Frank Stockton, whose arrow stuckonly three inches from the center of the target."Good for Fred!" cried Edward Downie."Just wait till you see me shoot!""Are you a dangerous rival?" asked Carl, smiling."I can hit a barn door if I am only near enough," replied Edward."Edward Downie!" called the president.Edward took his bow and advanced to the proper place,bent it, and the arrow sped on its way.There was a murmur of surprise when hisarrow struck only an inch to the right of thecentre. No one was more amazed than Edwardhimself, for he was accounted far fromskillful. It was indeed a lucky accident."What do you say to that?" asked Edward,triumphantly."I think the prize is yours. I had no ideayou could shoot like that," said Carl."Nor I," rejoined Edward, laughing."Carl Crawford!" called the president.Carl took his position, and bent his bow withthe greatest care. He exercised unusualdeliberation, for success meant more to him thanto any of the others. A dollar to him in hispresent circumstances would be a small fortune,while the loss of even ten cents would besensibly felt. His heart throbbed with excitementas he let the arrow speed on its mission.His unusual deliberation, and the fact thathe was a stranger, excited strong interest, andall eyes followed the arrow with eager attentiveness.There was a sudden shout of irrepressible excitement.Carl's arrow had struck the bull's-eye andthe prize was his."Christopher!" exclaimed Edward Downie,"you've beaten me, after all!""I'm almost sorry," said Carl, apologetically,but the light in his eyes hardly bore out the statement."Never mind. Everybody would have called it a flukeif I had won," said Edward. "I expect to get the prizefor the long jump. I am good at that.""So am I, but I won't compete; I will leave it to you.""No, no. I want to win fair."Carl accordingly entered his name. He madethe second best jump, but Edward's exceededhis by a couple of inches, and the prize wasadjudged to him."I have my revenge," he said, smiling. "Iam glad I won, for it wouldn't have been tothe credit of the club to have an outsider carryoff two prizes.""I am perfectly satisfied," said Carl; "I ought to be,for I did not expect to carry off any."Carl decided not to compete for any other prize.He had invested twenty cents and got back a dollar,which left him a profit of eighty cents.This, with his original quarter, made himthe possessor of a dollar and five cents."My luck seems to have turned," he said to himself,and the thought gave him fresh courage.It was five o'clock when the games were over,and Carl prepared to start again on his journey."Where are you going to take supper?" asked Downie."I--don't--know.""Come home with me. If you are in no hurry,you may as well stay overnight, and go on in the morning.""Are you sure it won't inconvenience you?""Not at all.""Then I'll accept with thanks."CHAPTER XII.AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE.After breakfast the next morning Carlstarted again on his way. His new friend,Edward Downie, accompanied him for a mile,having an errand at that distance."I wish you good luck, Carl," he said,earnestly. "When you come this way again, besure to stop in and see me.""I will certainly do so, but I hope I mayfind employment.""At any rate," thought Carl, as he resumedhis journey alone, "I am better off than I wasyesterday morning. Then I had but twenty-five cents; now I have a dollar."This was satisfactory as far as it went, butCarl was sensible that he was making no progressin his plan of earning a living. He wassimply living from hand to mouth, and but forgood luck he would have had to go hungry, andperhaps have been obliged to sleep out doors.What he wanted was employment.It was about ten o'clock when, looking alongthe road, his curiosity was excited by a manof very unusual figure a few rods in advanceof him. He looked no taller than a boy of ten;but his frame was large, his shoulders broad,and his arms were of unusual length. Hemight properly be called a dwarf."I am glad I am not so small as that,"thought Carl. "I am richer than he in havinga good figure. I should not like to exciteattention wherever I go by being unusually largeor unusually small."Some boys would have felt inclined to laughat the queer figure, but Carl had too much goodfeeling. His curiosity certainly was aroused,and he thought he would like to get acquaintedwith the little man, whose garments of finetexture showed that, though short in stature,he was probably long in purse. He didn'tquite know how to pave the way for anacquaintance, but circumstances favored him.The little man drew out a handkerchief fromthe side pocket of his overcoat. With itfluttered out a bank bill, which fell to the groundapparently unobserved by the owner.Carl hurried on, and, picking up the bill,said to the small stranger as he touched hisarm: "Here is some money you just dropped, sir."The little man turned round and smiled pleasantly."Thank you. Are you sure it is mine?""Yes, sir; it came out with your handkerchief.""Let me see. So it is mine. I was verycareless to put it loose in my pocket.""You were rather careless, sir.""Of what denomination is it?'"It is a two-dollar note.""If you had been a poor boy," said thelittle man, eying Carl keenly, "you might havebeen tempted to keep it. I might not have known."Carl smiled."What makes you think I am not a poor boy?" he said."You are well dressed.""That is true; but all the money I have isa dollar and five cents.""You know where to get more? You have a good home?""I had a home, but now I am thrown on my own exertions,"said Carl, soberly."Dear me! That is bad! If I were better acquainted,I might ask more particularly how this happens. Are you an orphan?""No, sir; my father is living.""And your mother is dead?""Yes, sir.""Is your father a poor man?""No, sir; he is moderately rich.""Yet you have to fight your own way?""Yes, sir. I have a stepmother.""I see. Are you sure you are not unreasonably prejudicedagainst your stepmother? All stepmothers are not bad or unkind.""I know that, sir.""Yours is, I presume?""You can judge for yourself."Carl recited some incidents in his experiencewith his stepmother. The stranger listenedwith evident interest."I am not in general in favor of boysleaving home except on extreme provocation,"he said, after a pause; "but in your case,as your father seems to take part against you,I think you may be justified, especially as,at your age, you have a fair chance of makingyour own living.""I am glad you think that, sir. I have begunto wonder whether I have not acted rashly.""In undertaking to support yourself?""Yes, sir.""How old are you?""Sixteen.""At fourteen I was obliged to undertakewhat you have now before you.""To support yourself?""Yes; I was left an orphan at fourteen, withno money left me by my poor father, and norelatives who could help me.""How did you make out, sir?" asked Carl,feeling very much interested."I sold papers for a while--in Newark, NewJersey--then I got a place at three dollarsa week, out of which I had to pay for board,lodging and clothes. Well, I won't go throughmy history. I will only say that whatever Idid I did as well as I could. I am now a manof about middle age, and I am moderately wealthy.""I am very much encouraged by what you tell me, sir.""Perhaps you don't understand what a hardstruggle I had. More than once I have hadto go to bed hungry. Sometimes I have hadto sleep out, but one mustn't be afraid to roughit a little when he is young. I shouldn't like tosleep out now, or go to bed without my supper,"and the little man laughed softly."Yes, sir; I expect to rough it, but if I couldonly get a situation, at no matter what income,I should feel encouraged.""You have earned no money yet?""Yes, sir; I earned a dollar yesterday.""At what kind of work?""Archery."The little man looked surprised."Is that a business?" he asked, curiously."I'll explain how it was," and Carl toldabout the contest."So you hit the mark?" said the little man,significantly.Somehow, there was something in the littleman's tone that put new courage into Carl,and incited him to fresh effort."I wonder, sir," he said, after a pause, "thatyou should be walking, when you can well affordto ride."The little man smiled."It is by advice of my physician," he said."He tells me I am getting too stout, and oughtto take more or less exercise in the open air.So I am trying to follow his advice ""Are you in business near here, sir?""At a large town six miles distant. I maynot walk all the way there, but I have a placeto call at near by, and thought I would availmyself of the good chance offered to take alittle exercise. I feel repaid. I have made apleasant acquaintance.""Thank you, sir.""There is my card," and the little man tookout a business card, reading thus: HENRY JENNINGS,FURNITURE WAREHOUSE, MILFORD."I manufacture my furniture in the country,"he continued, "but I ship it by special ar-rangements to a house in New York in whichI am also interested.""Yes, sir, I see. Do you employ many personsin your establishment?""About thirty.""Do you think you could make room for me?""Do you think you would like the business?""I am prepared to like any business in whichI can make a living.""That is right. That is the way to look atit. Let me think."For two minutes Mr. Jennings seemed to beplunged in thought. Then he turned andsmiled encouragingly."You can come home with me," he said, "andI will consider the matter.""Thank you, sir," said Carl, gladly."I have got to make a call at the next house,not on business, though. There is an old schoolmatelying there sick. I am afraid he is ratherpoor, too. You can walk on slowly, and I willovertake you in a few minutes.""Thank you, sir.""After walking half a mile, if I have notovertaken you, you may sit down under a treeand wait for me.""All right, sir.""Before I leave you I will tell you a secret.""What is it, sir?""The two dollars you picked up, I droppedon purpose.""On purpose?" asked Carl, in amazement."Yes; I wanted to try you, to see if you were honest.""Then you had noticed me?""Yes. I liked your appearance, but I wanted to test you."CHAPTER XIII.AN UNEQUAL CONTEST.Carl walked on slowly. He felt encouragedby the prospect of work, for he was sure thatMr. Jennings would make a place for him, ifpossible."He is evidently a kind-hearted man," Carlreflected. "Besides, he has been poor himself,and he can sympathize with me. The wagesmay be small, but I won't mind that, if Ionly support myself economically, and get on."To most boys brought up in comfort, not tosay luxury, the prospect of working hard forsmall pay would not have seemed inviting. ButCarl was essentially manly, and had sensibleideas about labor. It was no sacrifice orhumiliation to him to become a working boy,for he had never considered himself superiorto working boys, as many boys in his positionwould have done.He walked on in a leisurely manner, and atthe end of ten minutes thought he had bettersit down and wait for Mr. Jennings. But he wasdestined to receive a shock. There, under the treewhich seemed to offer the most inviting shelter,reclined a figure only too well-known.It was the tramp who the day before hadcompelled him to surrender the ten-dollar bill.The ill-looking fellow glanced up, and whenhis gaze rested upon Carl, his face beamedwith savage joy."So it's you, is it?" he said, rising from his seat."Yes," answered Carl, doubtfully."Do you remember me?""Yes.""I have cause to remember you, my chicken.That was a mean trick you played upon me,"and he nodded his head significantly."I should think it was you that played the trick on me.""How do you make that out?" growled the tramp."You took my money.""So I did, and much good it did me."Carl was silent."You know why, don't you?"Carl might have denied that he knew thecharacter of the bill which was stolen from him,but I am glad to say that it would have comefrom him with a very ill grace, for he wasaccustomed to tell the truth under all circumstances."You knew that the bill was counterfeit,didn't you?" demanded the tramp, fiercely."I was told so at the hotel where I offeredit in payment for my bill.""Yet you passed it on me!""I didn't pass it on you. You took it from me,"retorted Carl, with spirit."That makes no difference.""I think it does. I wouldn't have offeredit to anyone in payment of an honest bill.""Humph! you thought because I was poorand unfortunate you could pass it off on me!"This seemed so grotesque that Carl foundit difficult not to laugh."Do you know it nearly got me into trouble?"went on the tramp."How was that?""I stopped at a baker's shop to get a lunch.When I got through I offered the bill. Theold Dutchman put on his spectacles, and helooked first at the bill, then at me. Then hethreatened to have me arrested for passing badmoney. I told him I'd go out in the back yardand settle it with him. I tell you, boy, I'dhave knocked him out in one round, and heknew it, so he bade me be gone and neverdarken his door again. Where did you get it?""It was passed on me by a man I was traveling with.""How much other money have you got?" asked the tramp."Very little.""Give it to me, whatever it is."This was a little too much for Carl's patience."I have no money to spare," he said, shortly."Say that over again!" said the tramp, menacingly."If you don't understand me, I will.I have no money to spare.""You'll spare it to me, I reckon.""Look here," said Carl, slowly backing."You've robbed me of ten dollars. You'll haveto be satisfied with that.""It was no good. It might have sent meto prison. If I was nicely dressed I mightpass it, but when a chap like me offers a ten-dollar bill it's sure to he looked at sharply.I haven't a cent, and I'll trouble you to handover all you've got.""Why don't you work for a living? Youare a strong, able-bodied man.""You'll find I am if you give me any moreof your palaver."Carl saw that the time of negotiation waspast, and that active hostilities were about tocommence. Accordingly he turned and ran,not forward, but in the reverse direction, hopingin this way to meet with Mr. Jennings."Ah, that's your game, is it?" growled the tramp."You needn't expect to escape, for I'll overhaulyou in two minutes."So Carl ran, and his rough acquaintance ran after him.It could hardly be expected that a boy of sixteen,though stout and strong, could get away from a tall,powerful man like the tramp.Looking back over his shoulder, Carl sawthat the tramp was but three feet behind, andalmost able to lay his hand upon his shoulder.He dodged dexterously, and in trying to dothe same the tramp nearly fell to the ground.Naturally, this did not sweeten his temper."I'll half murder you when I get hold of you,"he growled, in a tone that bodied ill for Carl.The latter began to pant, and felt that hecould not hold out much longer. Should hesurrender at discretion?"If some one would only come along," was hisinward aspiration. "This man will take my moneyand beat me, too."As if in reply to his fervent prayer the smallfigure of Mr. Jennings appeared suddenly,rounding a curve in the road."Save me, save me, Mr. Jennings!" cried Carl,running up to the little man for protection."What is the matter? Who is this fellow?"asked Mr. Jennings, in a deep voice for sosmall a man."That tramp wants to rob me.""Don't trouble yourself! He won't do it,"said Jennings, calmly.CHAPTER XIV.CARL ARRIVES IN MILFORD.The tramp stopped short, and eyed Carl's small defender,first with curious surprise, and then with derision."Out of my way, you midget!" he cried, "or 'll hurt you.""Try it!" said the little man, showing no sign of fear."Why, you're no bigger than a kid. I can upset youwith one finger."He advanced contemptuously, and laid hishand on the shoulder of the dwarf. In aninstant Jennings had swung his flail-like arms,and before the tramp understood what washappening he was lying flat on his back, asmuch to Carl's amazement as his own.He leaped to his feet with an execration,and advanced again to the attack. To be upsetby such a pigmy was the height of mortification."I'm going to crush you, you mannikin!"he threatened.Jennings put himself on guard. Like manysmall men, he was very powerful, as his broadshoulders and sinewy arms would have madeevident to a teacher of gymnastics. He clearlyunderstood that this opponent was in deadlyearnest, and he put out all the strength whichhe possessed. The result was that his large-framed antagonist went down once more, strikinghis head with a force that nearly stunned him.It so happened that at this juncture reinforcements arrived.A sheriff and his deputy drove up in an open buggy, and,on witnessing the encounter, halted their carriage and sprangto the ground."What is the matter, Mr. Jennings?" asked the sheriff,respectfully, for the little man was a person of importancein that vicinity."That gentleman is trying to extort a forcedloan, Mr. Clunningham.""Ha! a footpad?""Yes."The sheriff sprang to the side of the tramp,who was trying to rise, and in a trice his wristswere confined by handcuffs."I think I know you, Mike Frost," he said."You are up to your old tricks. When did youcome out of Sing Sing?""Three weeks since," answered the tramp, sullenly."They want you back there. Come along with me!"He was assisted into the buggy, and spentthat night in the lockup."Did he take anything from you, Carl?"asked Mr. Jennings."No, sir; but I was in considerable danger.How strong you are!" he added, admiringly."Strength isn't always according to size!"said the little man, quietly. "Nature gave mea powerful, though small, frame, and I haveincreased my strength by gymnastic exercise."Mr. Jennings did not show the least excitementafter his desperate contest. He had attendedto it as a matter of business, and whenover he suffered it to pass out of his mind. Hetook out his watch and noted the time."It is later than I thought," he said. "I thinkI shall have to give up my plan of walkingthe rest of the way.""Then I shall be left alone," thought Carl regretfully.Just then a man overtook them in a carriage.He greeted Mr. Jennings respectfully."Are you out for a long walk?" he said."Yes, but I find time is passing too rapidly with me.Are you going to Milford?""Yes, sir.""Can you take two passengers?""You and the boy?""Yes; of course I will see that you don't lose by it.""I ought not to charge you anything, Mr. Jennings.Several times you have done me favors.""And I hope to again, but this is business.If a dollar will pay you, the boy and I will ridewith you.""It will be so much gain, as I don't go out of my way.""You can take the back seat, Carl," said Mr. Jennings."I will sit with Mr. Leach."They were soon seated and on their way."Relative of yours, Mr. Jennings?" asked Leach,with a backward glance at Carl.Like most country folks, he was curiousabout people. Those who live in cities meettoo many of their kind to feel an interest in strangers."No; a young friend," answered Jennings, briefly."Goin' to visit you?""Yes, I think he will stay with me for a time."Then the conversation touched upon Milfordmatters in which at present Carl was not interested.After his fatiguing walk our hero enjoyedthe sensation of riding. The road was a pleasantone, the day was bright with sunshine andthe air vocal with the songs of birds. For atime houses were met at rare intervals, butafter a while it became evident that they wereapproaching a town of considerable size."Is this Milford, Mr. Jennings?" asked Carl."Yes," answered the little man, turning witha pleasant smile."How large is it?""I think there are twelve thousand inhabitants.It is what Western people call a `right smart place.'It has been my home for twenty years, and I ammuch attached to it.""And it to you, Mr. Jennings," put in the driver."That is pleasant to hear," said Jennings, with a smile."It is true. There are few people here whomyou have not befriended.""That is what we are here for, is it not?""I wish all were of your opinion. Why, Mr.Jennings, when we get a city charter I thinkI know who will be the first mayor.""Not I, Mr. Leach. My own business is allI can well attend to. Thank you for your compliment,though. Carl, do you see yonder building?"He pointed to a three-story structure, aframe building, occupying a prominent position."Yes, sir.""That is my manufactory. What do you think of it?""I shouldn't think a town of this size wouldrequire so large an establishment," answered Carl.Mr. Jennings laughed."You are right," he said. "If I depended onMilford trade, a very small building would besufficient. My trade is outside. I supplymany dealers in New York City and at theWest. My retail trade is small. If any of myneighbors want furniture they naturally cometo me, and I favor them as to price out offriendly feeling, but I am a manufacturer andwholesale dealer.""I see, sir.""Shall I take you to your house, Mr. Jennings?"asked Leach."Yes, if you please."Leach drove on till he reached a two-storybuilding of Quaker-like simplicity but with alarge, pleasant yard in front, with here andthere a bed of flowers. Here he stopped his horse."We have reached our destination, Carl,"said Mr. Jennings. "You are active. Jumpout and I will follow."Carl needed no second invitation. He sprangfrom the carriage and went forward to helpMr. Jennings out."No, thank you, Carl," said the little man."I am more active than you think. Here we are!"He descended nimbly to the ground, and,drawing a one-dollar bill from his pocket,handed it to the driver."I don't like to take it, Mr. Jennings," saidMr. Leach."Why not? The laborer is worthy of his hire.Now, Carl, let us go into the house."CHAPTER XV.Mr. JENNINGS AT HOME.Mr. Jennings did not need to open the door.He had scarcely set foot on the front step whenit was opened from inside, and Carl found afresh surprise in store for him. A woman,apparently six feet in height, stood on thethreshold. Her figure was spare and ungainly,and her face singularly homely, but the absenceof beauty was partially made up by a kindlyexpression. She looked with some surprise at Carl."This is a young friend of mine, Hannah,"said her master. "Welcome him for my sake.""I am glad to see you," said Hannah,in a voice that was another amazement.It was deeper than that of most men.As she spoke, she held out a large masculinehand, which Carl took, as seemed to be expected."Thank you," said Carl."What am I to call you?" asked Hannah."Carl Crawford.""That's a strange name.""It is not common, I believe.""You two will get acquainted by and by,"said Mr. Jennings. "The most interestingquestion at present is, when will dinner be ready?""In ten minutes," answered Hannah, promptly."Carl and I are both famished. We havehad considerable exercise," here he nodded atCarl with a comical look, and Carl understood thathe referred in part to his contest with the tramp.Hannah disappeared into the kitchen, andMr. Jennings said: "Come upstairs, Carl.I will show you your room."Up an old-fashioned stairway Carl followedhis host, and the latter opened the door of aside room on the first landing. It was notlarge, but was neat and comfortable. Therewas a cottage bedstead, a washstand, a smallbureau and a couple of chairs."I hope you will come to feel at home here,"said Mr. Jennings, kindly."Thank you, sir. I am sure I shall," Carlresponded, gratefully."There are some nails to hang your clothingon," went on Mr. Jennings, and then he stoppedshort, for it was clear that Carl's small gripsackcould not contain an extra suit, and hefelt delicate at calling up in the boy's mindthe thought of his poverty."Thank you, sir," said Carl. "I left mytrunk at the house of a friend, and if youshould succeed in finding me a place, I willsend for it.""That is well!" returned Mr. Jennings, lookingrelieved. "Now I will leave you for a fewmoments. You will find water and towels,in case you wish to wash before dinner."Carl was glad of the opportunity. He wasparticular about his personal appearance, andhe felt hot and dusty. He bathed his face andhands, carefully dusted his suit, brushed hishair, and was ready to descend when he heardthe tinkling of a small bell at the foot of thefront stairs.He readily found his way into the neat dining-room at the rear of the parlor. Mr. Jenningssat at the head of the table, a little giant,diminutive in stature, but with broad shoulders,a large head, and a powerful frame. Oppositehim sat Hannah, tall, stiff and uprightas a grenadier. She formed a strange contrastto her employer."I wonder what made him hire such a tallwoman?" thought Carl. "Being so small himself,her size makes him look smaller."There was a chair at one side, placed forCarl."Sit down there, Carl," said Mr. Jennings."I won't keep you waiting any longer thanI can help. What have you given us to-day, Hannah?""Roast beef," answered Hannah in her deep tones."There is nothing better."The host cut off a liberal slice for Carl,and passed the plate to Hannah, who suppliedpotatoes, peas and squash. Carl's mouth fairlywatered as he watched the hospitable preparationsfor his refreshment."I never trouble myself about what we areto have on the table," said Mr. Jennings."Hannah always sees to that. She's knows justwhat I want. She is a capital cook, too, Hannah is."Hannah looked pleased at this compliment."You are easily pleased, master," she said."I should be hard to suit if I were notpleased with your cooking. You don't knowso well Carl's taste, but if there is anythinghe likes particularly he can tell you.""You are very kind, sir," said Carl."There are not many men who would treata poor boy so considerately," he thought."He makes me an honored guest."When dinner was over, Mr. Jennings invitedCarl to accompany him on a walk. Theypassed along the principal street, nearly everyperson they met giving the little man a cordial greeting."He seems to be very popular," thought Carl.At length they reached the manufactory. Mr. Jenningswent into the office, followed by Carl.A slender, dark-complexioned man, aboutthirty-five years of age, sat on a stool at a highdesk. He was evidently the bookkeeper."Any letters, Mr. Gibbon?" asked Mr. Jennings."Yes, sir; here are four.""Where are they from?""From New York, Chicago, Pittsburg and New Haven.""What do they relate to?""Orders. I have handed them to Mr. Potter."Potter, as Carl afterwards learned, was superintendentof the manufactory, and had full charge of practical details."Is there anything requiring my personal attention?""No, sir; I don't think so.""By the way, Mr. Gibbon, let me introduceyou to a young friend of mine--Carl Crawford."The bookkeeper rapidly scanned Carl's faceand figure. It seemed to Carl that the scrutinywas not a friendly one."I am glad to see you," said Mr. Gibbon, coldly."Thank you, sir.""By the way, Mr. Jennings," said thebookkeeper, "I have a favor to ask of you.""Go on, Mr. Gibbon," rejoined his employer,in a cordial tone."Two months since you gave my nephew,Leonard Craig, a place in the factory.""Yes; I remember.""I don't think the work agrees with him.""He seemed a strong, healthy boy.""He has never been used to confinement,and it affects him unpleasantly.""Does he wish to resign his place?""I have been wondering whether you wouldnot be willing to transfer him to the office.I could send him on errands, to the post office,and make him useful in various ways.""I had not supposed an office boy was needed.Still, if you desire it, I will try your nephewin the place.""Thank you, sir.""I am bound to tell you, however, that hispresent place is a better one. He is learninga good trade, which, if he masters it, willalways give him a livelihood. I learned atrade, and owe all I have to that.""True, Mr. Jennings, but there are otherways of earning a living.""Certainly.""And I thought of giving Leonard eveninginstruction in bookkeeping.""That alters the case. Good bookkeepers arealways in demand. I have no objection toyour trying the experiment.""Thank you, sir.""Have you mentioned the matter to your nephew?""I just suggested that I would ask you,but could not say what answer you would give.""It would have been better not to mentionthe matter at all till you could tell him definitelythat he could change his place.""I don't know but you are right, sir.However, it is all right now.""Now, Carl," said Mr. Jennings, "I willtake you into the workroom."CHAPTER XVI.CARL GETS A PLACE."I suppose that is the bookkeeper," said Carl."Yes. He has been with me three years. Heunderstands his business well. You heardwhat he said about his nephew?""Yes, sir.""It is his sister's son--a boy of about yourown age. I think he is making a mistake inleaving the factory, and going into the office.He will have little to do, and that not of acharacter to give him knowledge of business.""Still, if he takes lessons in bookkeeping----"Mr. Jennings smiled."The boy will never make a bookkeeper," he said."His reason for desiring the change is becausehe is indolent. The world has no room for lazy people.""I wonder, sir, that you have had a chanceto find him out.""Little things betray a boy's nature, or aman's, for that matter. When I have visitedthe workroom I have noticed Leonard, andformed my conclusions. He is not a boy whomI would select for my service, but I have takenhim as a favor to his uncle. I presume he iswithout means, and it is desirable that heshould pay his uncle something in return forthe home which he gives him.""How much do you pay him, sir, if it is not a secret?""Oh, no; he receives five dollars a week to begin with.I will pay him the same in the office. And that reminds me;how would you like to have a situation in the factory?Would you like to take Leonard's place?""Yes, sir, if you think I would do.""I feel quite sure of it. Have you ever doneany manual labor?""No, sir.""I suppose you have always been to school.""Yes, sir.""You are a gentleman's son," proceeded Mr.Jennings, eying Carl attentively. "How willit suit you to become a working boy?""I shall like it," answered Carl, promptly."Don't be too sure! You can tell better aftera week in the factory. Those in my employ workten hours a day. Leonard Craig doesn't like it.""All I ask, Mr. Jennings, is that you give me a trial.""That is fair," responded the little man,looking pleased. "I will tell you now that,not knowing of any vacancy in the factory,I had intended to give you the place in the officewhich Mr. Gibbon has asked for his nephew.It would have been a good deal easier work.""I shall be quite satisfied to take my placein the factory.""Come in, then, and see your future sceneof employment."They entered a large room, occupying nearlyan entire floor of the building. Part of thespace was filled by machinery. The numberemployed Carl estimated roughly at twenty-five.Quite near the door was a boy, who boresome personal resemblance to the bookkeeper.Carl concluded that it must be Leonard Craig.The boy looked round as Mr. Jennings entered,and eyed Carl sharply."How are you getting on, Leonard?" Mr. Jennings asked."Pretty well, sir; but the machinery makes my head ache.""Your uncle tells me that your employment does not agree with you.""No, sir; I don't think it does.""He would like to have you in the office with him.Would you like it, also?""Yes, sir," answered Leonard, eagerly."Very well. You may report for duty at the officeto-morrow morning. This boy will take your place here."Leonard eyed Carl curiously, not cordially."I hope you'll like it," he said."I think I shall.""You two boys must get acquainted," said Mr. Jennings."Leonard, this is Carl Crawford.""Glad to know you," said Leonard, coldly."I don't think I shall like that boy," thought Carl,as he followed Mr. Jennings to another part of the room.CHAPTER XVII.CARL ENTERS THE FACTORY.When they left the factory Mr. Jennings said, with a smile:"Now you are one of us, Carl. To-morrow you begin work.""I am glad of it, sir.""You don't ask what salary you are to get.""I am willing to leave that to you.""Suppose we say two dollars a week and board--to begin with.""That is better than I expected. But wheream I to board?""At my house, for the present, if that will suit you.""I shall like it very much, if it won'tinconvenience you.""Hannah is the one to be inconvenienced,if anyone. I had a little conversation withher while you were getting ready for dinner.She seems to have taken a liking for you,though she doesn't like boys generally.As for me, it will make the home brighter to havea young person in it. Hannah and I are old-fashioned and quiet, and the neighbors don'thave much reason to complain of noise.""No, sir; I should think not, ' said Carl, with a smile."There is one thing you must be preparedfor, Carl," said Mr. Jennings, after a pause."What is that, sir?""Your living in my house--I being youremployer--may excite jealousy in some. I thinkI know of one who will be jealous.""Leonard Craig?""And his uncle. However, don't borrow anytrouble on that score. I hope you won't takeadvantage of your position, and, thinking yourselfa favorite, neglect your duties.""I will not, sir.""Business and friendship ought to be kept apart.""That is right, sir.""I am going back to the house, but you maylike to take a walk about the village. Youwill feel interested in it, as it is to be yourfuture home. By the way, it may be well foryou to write for your trunk. You can orderit sent to my house.""All right, sir; I will do so."He went to the post office, and, buying a postalcard, wrote to his friend, Gilbert Vance,as follows:"Dear Gilbert:--Please send my trunk byexpress to me at Milford, care of Henry Jennings,Esq. He is my employer, and I live athis house. He is proprietor of a furniturefactory. Will write further particulars soon."Carl Crawford."This postal carried welcome intelligence toGilbert, who felt a brotherly interest in Carl.He responded by a letter of hearty congratulation,and forwarded the trunk as requested.Carl reported for duty the next morning,and, though a novice, soon showed that he wasnot without mechanical skill.At twelve o'clock all the factory hands hadan hour off for dinner. As Carl passed intothe street he found himself walking beside theboy whom he had succeeded--Leonard Craig."Good-morning, Leonard," said Carl, pleasantly."Good-morning. Have you taken my placein the factory?""Yes.""Do you think you shall like it?""I think I shall, though, of course, it israther early to form an opinion.""I didn't like it.""Why not?""I don't want to grow up a workman. Ithink I am fit for something better.""Mr. Jennings began as a factory hand.""I suppose he had a taste for it. I haven't.""Then you like your present position better?""Oh, yes; it's more genteel. How much doesJennings pay you?""Two dollars a week and board.""How is that? Where do you board?""With him.""Oh!" said Leonard, his countenance changing."So you are a favorite with the boss, are you?""I don't know. He gave me warning thathe should be just as strict with me as if wewere strangers.""How long have you known him?"Carl smiled."I met him for the first time yesterday," he answered."That's very queer.""Well, perhaps it is a little singular.""Are you a poor boy?""I have to earn my own living.""I see. You will grow up a common workman.""I shall try to rise above it. I am not ashamedof the position, but I am ambitious to rise.""I am going to be a bookkeeper," said Leonard."My uncle is going to teach me. I wouldrather be a bookkeeper than a factory hand.""Then you are right in preparing yourselffor such a post."Here the two boys separated, as they wereto dine in different places.Leonard was pleased with his new position.He really had very little to do. Twice a dayhe went to the post office, once or twice to thebank, and there was an occasional errand besides.To Carl the idleness would have beeninsupportable, but Leonard was naturallyindolent. He sat down in a chair by the window,and watched the people go by.The first afternoon he was in luck, for therewas a dog fight in the street outside. He seizedhis hat, went out, and watched the canine warfarewith the deepest interest."I think I will buy you a system of bookkeeping,"said his uncle, "and you can study it in the office.""Put it off till next week, Uncle Julius. Iwant to get rested from the factory work.""It seems to me, Leonard, you were born lazy,"said his uncle, sharply."I don't care to work with my hands.""Do you care to work at all?""I should like to be a bookkeeper.""Do you know that my work is harder andmore exhausting than that of a workman inthe factory?""You don't want to exchange with him, do you?"asked Leonard."No.""That's where I agree with you."Mr. Jennings took several weekly papers.Leonard was looking over the columns of oneof them one day, when he saw the advertisementof a gift enterprise of a most attractivecharacter. The first prize was a house andgrounds valued at ten thousand dollars. Followingwere minor prizes, among them onethousand dollars in gold.Leonard's fancy was captivated by the brilliantprospect of such a prize."Price of tickets--only one dollar!" he read."Think of getting a thousand dollars for one!Oh, if I could only be the lucky one!"He took out his purse, though he knewbeforehand that his stock of cash consisted onlyof two dimes and a nickel."I wonder if I could borrow a dollar of thatboy Carl!" he deliberated. "I'll speak to himabout it."This happened more than a week after Carlwent to work in the factory. He had alreadyreceived one week's pay, and it remaineduntouched in his pocket.Leonard joined him in the street early in theevening, and accosted him graciously."Where are you going?" he asked."Nowhere in particular. I am out for a walk.""So am I. Shall we walk together?""If you like."After talking on indifferent matters, Leonardsaid suddenly: "Oh, by the way, will you do me a favor?""What is it?""Lend me a dollar till next week."In former days Carl would probably have grantedthe favor, but he realized the value of money nowthat he had to earn it by steady work."I am afraid it won't be convenient," he answered."Does that mean that you haven't got it?"asked Leonard."No, I have it, but I am expecting to use it.""I wouldn't mind paying you interest for it--say twenty-five cents," continued Leonard,who had set his heart on buying a ticket in thegift enterprise."I would be ashamed to take such interest as that.""But I have a chance of making a good dealmore out of it myself.""In what way?""That is my secret.""Why don't you borrow it of your uncle?""He would ask too many questions. However,I see that you're a miser, and I won'ttrouble you."He left Carl in a huff and walked hastilyaway. He turned into a lane little traveled,and, after walking a few rods, came suddenlyupon the prostrate body of a man, whose deep,breathing showed that he was stupefied byliquor. Leonard was not likely to feel anyspecial interest in him, but one object didattract his attention. It was a wallet which haddropped out of the man's pocket and was lyingon the grass beside him.CHAPTER XVIII.LEONARD'S TEMPTATION.Leonard was not a thief, but the sight of thewallet tempted him, under the circumstances.He had set his heart on buying a ticket in thegift enterprise, and knew of no way of obtainingthe requisite sum--except this. It was,indeed, a little shock to him to think ofappropriating money not his own; yet who wouldknow it? The owner of the wallet was drunk,and would be quite unconscious of his loss.Besides, if he didn't take the wallet, some one elseprobably would, and appropriate the entirecontents. It was an insidious suggestion, andLeonard somehow persuaded himself that sincethe money was sure to be taken, he might aswell have the benefit of it as anyone else.So, after turning over the matter in his mindrapidly, he stooped down and picked up thewallet.The man did not move.Emboldened by his insensibility, Leonardcautiously opened the pocketbook, and his eyesglistened when he saw tucked away in oneside, quite a thick roll of bills."He won't miss one bill," thought Leonard."Anyone else might take the whole wallet, butI wouldn't do that. I wonder how much moneythere is in the roll."He darted another glance at the prostrateform, but there seemed no danger of interruption.He took the roll in his hand, therefore,and a hasty scrutiny showed him that the billsran from ones to tens. There must have beennearly a hundred dollars in all."Suppose I take a five," thought Leonard,whose cupidity increased with the sight of themoney. "He won't miss it, and it will be betterin my hands than if spent for whiskey."How specious are the arguments of thosewho seek an excuse for a wrong act that willput money in the purse!"Yes, I think I may venture to take a five,and, as I might not be able to change it rightaway, I will take a one to send for a ticket.Then I will put the wallet back in the man's pocket."So far, all went smoothly, and Leonard wasproceeding to carry out his intention when,taking a precautionary look at the man on theground, he was dumfounded by seeing his eyeswide open and fixed upon him.Leonard flushed painfully, like a criminaldetected in a crime, and returned the look ofinquiry by one of dismay."What--you--doing?" inquired the victimof inebriety."I--is this your wallet, sir?" stammered Leonard."Course it is. What you got it for?""I--I saw it on the ground, and was afraidsome one would find it, and rob you," saidLeonard, fluently."Somebody did find it," rejoined the man,whose senses seemed coming back to him."How much did you take?""I? You don't think I would take any ofyour money?" said Leonard, in virtuous surprise."Looked like it! Can't tell who to trust.""I assure you, I had only just picked it up,and was going to put it back in your pocket, sir."The man, drunk as he was, winked knowingly."Smart boy!" he said. "You do it well, ol' fella!""But, sir, it is quite true, I assure you.I will count over the money before you.Do you know how much you had?""Nev' mind. Help me up!"Leonard stooped over and helped the drunkardto a sitting position."Where am I? Where is hotel?"Leonard answered him."Take me to hotel, and I'll give you a dollar.""Certainly, sir," said Leonard, briskly. Hewas to get his dollar after all, and would nothave to steal it. I am afraid he is not to bepraised for his honesty, as it seemed to be amatter of necessity."I wish he'd give me five dollars," thoughtLeonard, but didn't see his way clear to makethe suggestion.He placed the man on his feet, and guidedhis steps to the road. As he walked along,the inebriate, whose gait was at first unsteady,recovered his equilibrium and required less help."How long had you been lying there?" asked Leonard."Don't know. I was taken sick," and theinebriate nodded knowingly at Leonard,who felt at liberty to laugh, too."Do you ever get sick?""Not that way," answered Leonard."Smart boy! Better off!"They reached the hotel, and Leonard engageda room for his companion."Has he got money?" asked the landlord, ina low voice."Yes," answered Leonard, "he has nearlya hundred dollars. I counted it myself.""That's all right, then," said the landlord."Here, James, show the gentleman up to No. 15.""Come, too," said the stranger to Leonard.The latter followed the more readily becausehe had not yet been paid his dollar.The door of No. 15 was opened, and the two entered."I will stay with the gentleman a short time,"said Leonard to the boy. "If we want anything we will ring.""All right, sir.""What's your name?" asked the inebriate,as he sank into a large armchair near the window."Leonard Craig.""Never heard the name before.""What's your name, sir?""What yon want to know for?" asked the other, cunningly."The landlord will want to put it on his book.""My name? Phil Stark.""Philip Stark?""Yes; who told you?"It will be seen that Mr. Stark was not yetquite himself."You told me yourself.""So I did--'scuse me.""Certainly, sir. By the way, you told meyou would pay me a dollar for bringing youto the hotel.""So I did. Take it," and Philip Stark passedthe wallet to Leonard.Leonard felt tempted to take a two-dollar billinstead of a one, as Mr. Stark would hardly noticethe mistake. Still, he might ask to look at the bill,and that would be awkward. So the boy contented himselfwith the sum promised."Thank you, sir," he said, as he slipped the billinto his vest pocket. "Do you want some supper?""No, I want to sleep.""Then you had better lie down on the bed.Will you undress?""No; too much trouble."Mr. Stark rose from the armchair, and,lurching round to the bed, flung himself on it."I suppose you don't want me any longer,"said Leonard."No. Come round to-morrer.""Yes, sir."Leonard opened the door and left the room.He resolved to keep the appointment, and comeround the next day. Who knew but some moreof Mr. Stark's money might come into hishands? Grown man as he was, he seemed toneed a guardian, and Leonard was willing toact as such--for a consideration."It's been a queer adventure!" thought Leonard,as he slowly bent his steps towards his uncle'shouse. "I've made a dollar out of it, anyway,and if he hadn't happened to wake upjust as he did I might have done better.However, it may turn out as well in the end.""You are rather late, Leonard," said his uncle,in a tone that betrayed some irritation."I wanted to send you on an errand, and youare always out of the way at such a time.""I'll go now," said Leonard, with unusualamiability. "I've had a little adventure.""An adventure! What is it?" Mr. Gibbonasked, with curiosity.Leonard proceeded to give an account of hisfinding the inebriate in the meadow, and hisguiding him to the hotel. It may readily besupposed that he said nothing of his attemptto appropriate a part of the contents of the wallet."What was his name?" asked Gibbon, with languid curiosity."Phil Stark, he calls himself."A strange change came over the face of the bookkeeper.There was a frightened look in his eyes, and his color faded."Phil Stark!" he repeated, in a startled tone."Yes, sir.""What brings him here?" Gibbon asked himselfnervously, but no words passed his lips."Do you know the name?" asked Leonard, wonderingly."I--have heard it before, but--no, I don'tthink it is the same man."CHAPTER XIX.AN ARTFUL SCHEME."Does this Mr. Stark intend to remain longin the village!" inquired the bookkeeper, ina tone of assumed indifference."He didn't say anything on that point,"answered Leonard."He did not say what business brought himhere, I presume?""No, he was hardly in condition to saymuch; he was pretty full," said Leonard, witha laugh. "However, he wants me to call uponhim to-morrow, and may tell me then.""He wants you to call upon him?""Yes, uncle.""Are you going?""Yes; why shouldn't I?""I see no reason," said Gibbon, hesitating.Then, after a pause he added: "If you seethe way clear, find out what brings him toMilford.""Yes, uncle, I will.""Uncle Julius seems a good deal interestedin this man, considering that he is a stranger,"thought the boy.The bookkeeper was biting his nails, a habithe had when he was annoyed. "And, Leonard,"he added slowly, "don't mention myname while you are speaking to Stark.""No, sir, I won't, if you don't want me to,"answered Leonard, his face betraying unmistakablecuriosity. His uncle noted this, andexplained hurriedly: "It is possible that hemay be a man whom I once met under disagreeablecircumstances, and I would prefernot to meet him again. Should he learn thatI was living here, he would be sure to wantto renew the acquaintance.""Yes, sir, I see. I don't think he wouldwant to borrow money, for he seems to bepretty well provided. I made a dollar out ofhim to-day, and that is one reason why I amwilling to call on him again. I may strikehim for another bill.""There is no objection to that, provided youdon't talk to him too freely. I don't thinkhe will want to stay long in Milford.""I wouldn't if I had as much money as he probably has.""Do you often meet the new boy?""Carl Crawford?""Yes; I see him on the street quite often.""He lives with Mr. Jennings, I hear.""So he tells me.""It is rather strange. I didn't suppose thatJennings would care to receive a boy in hishouse, or that tall grenadier of a housekeeper,either. I expect she rules the household.""She could tuck him under her arm andwalk off with him," said Leonard, laughing."The boy must be artful to have wormedhis way into the favor of the strange pair.He seems to be a favorite.""Yes, uncle, I think he is. However, I likemy position better than his.""He will learn his business from the beginning.I don't know but it was a mistake foryou to leave the factory.""I am not at all sorry for it, uncle.""Your position doesn't amount to much.""I am paid just as well as I was when I wasin the factory.""But you are learning nothing.""You are going to teach me bookkeeping.""Even that is not altogether a desirablebusiness. A good bookkeeper can never expect tobe in business for himself. He must be contentwith a salary all his life.""You have done pretty well, uncle.""But there is no chance of my becominga rich man. I have to work hard for mymoney. And I haven't been able to lay upmuch money yet. That reminds me? Leonard,I must impress upon you the fact that youhave your own way to make. I have procuredyou a place, and I provide you a home----""You take my wages," said Leonard, bluntly."A part of them, but on the whole, you arenot self-supporting. You must look ahead,Leonard, and consider the future. When you area young man you will want to earn an adequate income.""Of course, I shall, uncle, but there is oneother course.""What is that?""I may marry an heiress," suggested Leonard, smiling.The bookkeeper winced."I thought I was marrying an heiress whenI married your aunt," he said, "but withinsix months of our wedding day, her fathermade a bad failure, and actually had theassurance to ask me to give him a home undermy roof.""Did you do it?""No; I told him it would not be convenient.""What became of him?""He got a small clerkship at ten dollars aweek in the counting room of a mercantilefriend, and filled it till one day last October,when he dropped dead of apoplexy. I madea great mistake when I married in not askinghim to settle a definite sum on his daughter.It would have been so much saved from the wreck.""Did aunt want him to come and live here?""Yes, women are always unreasonable. Shewould have had me support the old man inidleness, but I am not one of that kind.Every tub should stand on its own bottom.""I say so, too, uncle. Do you know whetherthis boy, Carl Crawford, has any father or mother?""From a word Jennings let fall I inferthat he has relatives, but is not on good termswith them. I have been a little afraid hemight stand in your light.""How so, uncle?""Should there be any good opening for oneof your age, I am afraid he would get it ratherthan you.""I didn't think of that," said Leonard, jealously."Living as he does with Mr. Jennings, hewill naturally try to ingratiate himself withhim, and stand first in his esteem.""That is true. Is Mr. Jennings a rich man,do you think?""Yes, I think he is. The factory and stockare worth considerable money, but I know hehas other investments also. As one item hehas over a thousand dollars in the CartervilleSavings Bank. He has been very pru-dent, has met with no losses, and has put asidea great share of his profits every year.""I wonder he don't marry.""Marriage doesn't seem to be in histhoughts. Hannah makes him so comfortablethat he will probably remain a bachelor tothe end of his days.""Perhaps he will leave his money to her.""He is likely to live as long as she.""She is a good deal longer than he," saidLeonard, with a laugh.The bookkeeper condescended to smile atthis joke, though it was not very brilliant."Before this boy Carl came," he resumedthoughtfully, "I hoped he might take a fancyto you. He must die some time, and, havingno near blood relative, I thought he mightselect as heir some boy like yourself, who mightgrow into his favor and get on his blind side.""Is it too late now?" asked Leonard, eagerly."Perhaps not, but the appearance of thisnew boy on the scene makes your chance a gooddeal smaller.""I wish we could get rid of him," saidLeonard, frowning."The only way is to injure him in theestimation of Mr. Jennings.""I think I know of a way.""Mention it.""Here is an advertisement of a lottery," saidLeonard, whose plans, in view of what his unclehad said, had experienced a change."Well?""I will write to the manager in Carl's name,inquiring about tickets, and, of course, he willanswer to him, to the care of Mr. Jennings.This will lead to the suspicion that Carl isinterested in such matters.""It is a good idea. It will open the wayto a loss of confidence on the part of Mr. Jennings.""I will sit down at your desk and write at once."Three days later Mr. Jennings handed a letterto Carl after they reached home in the evening."A letter for you to my care," he explained.Carl opened it in surprise, and read as follows:"Office Of Gift Enterprise."Mr. Carl Crawford:--Your letter of inquiryis received. In reply we would say thatwe will send you six tickets for five dollars.By disposing of them among your friends atone dollar each, you will save the cost of yourown. You had better remit at once."Yours respectfully, Pitkins & Gamp,"Agents."Carl looked the picture of astonishmentwhen he read this letter.CHAPTER XX.REVEALS A MYSTERY."Please read this letter, Mr. Jennings," said Carl.His employer took the letter from his hand,and ran his eye over it."Do you wish to ask my advice about theinvestment?" he said, quietly."No, sir. I wanted to know how such aletter came to be written to me.""Didn't you send a letter of inquiry there?""No, sir, and I can't understand how thesemen could have got hold of my name."Mr. Jennings looked thoughtful."Some one has probably written in your name,"he said, after a pause."But who could have done so?""If you will leave the letter in my hands,I may be able to obtain some information onthat point.""I shall be glad if you can, Mr. Jennings.""Don't mention to anyone having received such a letter,and if anyone broaches the subject, let me know who it is.""Yes, sir, I will."Mr. Jennings quietly put on his hat, and walkedover to the post office. The postmaster, who alsokept a general variety store, chanced to be alone."Good-evening, Mr. Jennings," he said,pleasantly. "What can I do for you?""I want a little information, Mr. Sweetland,though it is doubtful if you can give it."Mr. Sweetland assumed the attitude of attention."Do you know if any letter has been postedfrom this office within a few days, addressedto Pitkins & Gamp, Syracuse, New York?""Yes; two letters have been handed in bearing this address."Mr. Jennings was surprised, for he had neverthought of two letters."Can you tell me who handed them in?" he asked."Both were handed in by the same party.""And that was----""A boy in your employ."Mr. Jennings looked grave. Was it possiblethat Carl was deceiving him?"The boy who lives at my house?" he asked, anxiously."No; the boy who usually calls for the factory mail.The nephew of your bookkeeper I think his name is Leonard Craig.""Ah, I see," said Mr. Jennings, looking very much relieved."And you say he deposited both letters?""Yes, sir.""Do you happen to remember if any otherletter like this was received at the office?"Here he displayed the envelope of Carl's letter."Yes; one was received, addressed to the nameof the one who deposited the first letters--Leonard Craig.""Thank you, Mr. Sweetland. Your information has clearedup a mystery. Be kind enough not to mention the matter.""I will bear your request in mind."Mr. Jennings bought a supply of stamps, and then left the office."Well, Carl," he said, when he re-entered the house,"I have discovered who wrote in your name to Pitkins & Gamp.""Who, sir?" asked Carl, with curiosity."Leonard Craig.""But what could induce him to do it?" said Carl, perplexed."He thought that I would see the letter, and would be prejudicedagainst you if I discovered that you were investing in what isa species of lottery.""Would you, sir?""I should have thought you unwise, and Ishould have been reminded of a fellow workmanwho became so infatuated with lotteriesthat he stole money from his employer toenable him to continue his purchases of tickets.But for this unhappy passion he would haveremained honest.""Leonard must dislike me," said Carl, thoughtfully."He is jealous of you; I warned you he orsome one else might become so. But the mostcurious circumstance is, he wrote a second letterin his own name. I suspect he has bought a ticket.I advise you to say nothing about the matterunless questioned.""I won't, sir."The next day Carl met Leonard in the street."By the way," said Leonard, "you got a letter yesterday?""Yes.""I brought it to the factory with the rest of the mail.""Thank you."Leonard looked at him curiously."He seems to be close-mouthed," Leonard said to himself."He has sent for a ticket, I'll bet a hat, and don'twant me to find out. I wish I could draw the capital prize--I would not mind old Jennings finding out then.""Do you ever hear from your--friends?" he asked a minute later."Not often.""I thought that letter might be from your home.""No; it was a letter from Syracuse.""I remember now, it was postmarked Syracuse. Have you friends there?""None that I am aware of.""Yet you receive letters from there?""That was a business letter."Carl was quietly amused at Leonard's skillful questions,but was determined not to give him any light on the subject.Leonard tried another avenue of attack."Oh, dear!" he sighed, "I wish I was rich.""I shouldn't mind being rich myself," said Carl,with a smile."I suppose old Jennings must have a lot of money.""Mr. Jennings, I presume, is very well off,"responded Carl, emphasizing the title "Mr.""If I had his money I wouldn't live in such Quaker style.""Would you have him give fashionable parties?"asked Carl, smiling."Well, I don't know that he would enjoy that;but I'll tell you what I would do. I would buya fast horse--a two-forty mare--and a bangup buggy,and I'd show the old farmers round here what fast driving is.Then I'd have a stylish house, and----""I don't believe you'd be content to live in Milford, Leonard.""I don't think I would, either, unless my business were here.I'd go to New York every few weeks and see life.""You may be rich some time, so that you can carry out your wishes.""Do you know any easy way of getting money?"asked Leonard, pointedly."The easy ways are not generally the true ways.A man sometimes makes money by speculation,but he has to have some to begin with.""I can't get anything out of him," thought Leonard."Well, good-evening."He crossed the street, and joined the man who has alreadybeen referred to as boarding at the hotel.Mr. Stark had now been several days in Milford.What brought him there, or what objecthe had in staying, Leonard had not yetascertained. He generally spent part of hisevenings with the stranger, and had once ortwice received from him a small sum of money.Usually, however, he had met Mr. Stark inthe billiard room, and played a game or twoof billiards with him. Mr. Stark always paidfor the use of the table, and that was naturallysatisfactory to Leonard, who enjoyed amusementat the expense of others.Leonard, bearing in mind his uncle's request,had not mentioned his name to Mr. Stark, andStark, though he had walked about the villagemore or less, had not chanced to meet Mr. Gibbon.He had questioned Leonard, however, aboutMr. Jennings, and whether he was supposed to be rich.Leonard had answered freely that everyoneconsidered him so."But he doesn't know how to enjoy his money," he added."We should," said Stark, jocularly."You bet we would," returned Leonard; andhe was quite sincere in his boast, as we knowfrom his conversation with Carl."By the way," said Stark, on this particularevening, "I never asked you about your family,Leonard. I suppose you live with your parents.""No, sir. They are dead.""Then whom do you live with?""With my uncle," answered Leonard, guardedly."Is his name Craig?""No.""What then?""I've got to tell him," thought Leonard."Well, I don't suppose there will be muchharm in it. My uncle is bookkeeper for Mr. Jennings,"he said, "and his name is Julius Gibbon."Philip Stark wheeled round, and eyed Leonardin blank astonishment."Your uncle is Julius Gibbon!" he exclaimed."Yes.""Well, I'll be blowed.""Do you--know my uncle?" asked Leonard, hesitating."I rather think I do. Take me round to the house.I want to see him."CHAPTER XXI.AN UNWELCOME GUEST.When Julius Gibbon saw the door open andPhilip Stark enter the room where he wassmoking his noon cigar, his heart quickenedits pulsations and he turned pale."How are you, old friend?" said Stark,boisterously. "Funny, isn't it, that I should runacross your nephew?""Very strange!" ejaculated Gibbon, lookingthe reverse of joyous."It's a happy meeting, isn't it? We used tosee a good deal of each other," and he laughedin a way that Gibbon was far from enjoying."Now, I've come over to have a good, long chatwith you. Leonard, I think we won't keepyou, as you wouldn't be interested in our talkabout old times.""Yes, Leonard, you may leave us," added his uncle.Leonard's curiosity was excited, and hewould have been glad to remain, but as therewas no help for it, he went out.When they were alone, Stark drew up hischair close, and laid his hand familiarly onthe bookkeeper's knee."I say, Gibbon, do you remember where we last met?"Gibbon shuddered slightly."Yes," he answered, feebly."It was at Joliet--Joliet Penitentiary. Yourtime expired before mine. I envied you thesix months' advantage you had of me. WhenI came out I searched for you everywhere,but heard nothing.""How did you know I was here?" asked the bookkeeper."I didn't know. I had no suspicion of it.Nor did I dream that Leonard, who was ableto do me a little service, was your nephew. Isay, he's a chip of the old block, Gibbon," andStark laughed as if he enjoyed it."What do you mean by that?""I was lying in a field, overcome by liquor,an old weakness of mine, you know, and mywallet had slipped out of my pocket. Ichanced to open my eyes, when I saw it in thehands of your promising nephew, ha! ha!""He told me that.""But he didn't tell you that he was on thepoint of appropriating a part of the contents?I warrant you he didn't tell you that.""Did he acknowledge it? Perhaps you misjudged him.""He didn't acknowledge it in so many words,but I knew it by his change of color and confusion.Oh, I didn't lay it up against him.We are very good friends. He comes honestly by it."Gibbon looked very much annoyed, but there were reasonswhy he did not care to express his chagrin."On my honor, it was an immense surpriseto me," proceeded Stark, "when I learned thatmy old friend Gibbon was a resident of Milford.""I wish you had never found it out," thoughtGibbon, biting his lip."No sooner did I hear it than I posted offat once to call on you.""So I see."Stark elevated his eyebrows, and lookedamused. He saw that he was not a welcomevisitor, but for that he cared little."Haven't you got on, though? Here I findyou the trusted bookkeeper of an importantbusiness firm. Did you bring recommendationsfrom your last place?" and he burst intoa loud guffaw."I wish you wouldn't make suchreferences," snapped Gibbon. "They can do nogood, and might do harm.""Don't be angry, my dear boy. I rejoiceat your good fortune. Wish I was equallywell fixed. You don't ask how I am getting on.""I hope you are prosperous," said Gibbon, coldly."I might be more so. Is there a place vacantin your office?""No.""And if there were, you might not recommend me, eh?""There is no need to speak of that. There is no vacancy.""Upon my word, I wish there were, as I am getting tothe end of my tether. I may have money enough to lastme four weeks longer, but no more.""I don't see how I can help you," said Gibbon."How much salary does Mr. Jennings pay you?""A hundred dollars a month," answered thebookkeeper, reluctantly."Not bad, in a cheap place like this.""It takes all I make to pay expenses.""I remember--you have a wife. I have nosuch incumbrance.""There is one question I would like to ask you,"said the bookkeeper."Fire away, dear boy. Have you an extra cigar?""Here is one,""Thanks. Now I shall be comfortable. Go aheadwith your question.""What brought you to Milford? You didn'tknow of my being here, you say.""Neither did I. I came on my old business.""What?""I heard there was a rich manufacturer here--I allude to your respected employer.I thought I might manage to open his safesome dark night.""No, no," protested Gibbon in alarm. "Don't think of it.""Why not?" asked Stark, coolly."Because," answered Gibbon, in some agitation,"I might be suspected.""Well, perhaps you might; but I have got to look outfor number one. How do you expect me to live?""Go somewhere else. There are plenty of othermen as rich, and richer, where you wouldnot be compromising an old friend.""It's because I have an old friend in the officethat I have thought this would be my best opening.""Surely, man, you don't expect me to betraymy employer, and join with you in robbing him?""That's just what I do expect. Don't tellme you have grown virtuous, Gibbon. Thetiger doesn't lose his spots or the leopard hisstripes. I tell you there's a fine chance for usboth. I'll divide with you, if you'll help me.""But I've gone out of the business,"protested Gibbon."I haven't. Come, old boy, I can't let anysentimental scruples interfere with so good astroke of business.""I won't help you!" said Gibbon, angrily."You only want to get me into trouble.""You won't help me?" said Stark, with slow deliberation."No, I can't honorably. Can't you let me alone?""Sorry to say, I can't. If I was rich, I might;but as it is, it is quite necessary for me to raisesome money somewhere. By all accounts, Jennings is rich,and can spare a small part of his accumulations fora good fellow that's out of luck.""You'd better give up the idea. It's quite impossible.""Is it?" asked Stark, with a wicked look."Then do you know what I will do?""What will you do?" asked Gibbon, nervously."I will call on your employer, and tell himwhat I know of you.""You wouldn't do that?" said the bookkeeper,much agitated."Why not? You turn your back upon anold friend. You bask in prosperity, and turnfrom him in his poverty. It's the way of theworld, no doubt; but Phil Stark generally getseven with those who don't treat him well.""Tell me what you want me to do," saidGibbon, desperately."Tell me first whether your safe containsmuch of value.""We keep a line of deposit with the Milford Bank.""Do you mean to say that nothing of value is leftin the safe overnight?" asked Stark, disappointed"There is a box of government bonds usually kept there,"the bookkeeper admitted, reluctantly."Ah, that's good!" returned Stark, rubbing his hands."Do you know how much they amount to?""I think there are about four thousand dollars.""Good! We must have those bonds, Gibbon."CHAPTER XXII.MR. STARK IS RECOGNIZED.Phil Stark was resolved not to release hishold upon his old acquaintance. During theday he spent his time in lounging about thetown, but in the evening he invariably fetchedup at the bookkeeper's modest home. Hisattentions were evidently not welcome to Mr.Gibbon, who daily grew more and more nervousand irritable, and had the appearance ofa man whom something disquieted.Leonard watched the growing intimacy withcuriosity. He was a sharp boy, and he feltconvinced that there was something betweenhis uncle and the stranger. There was nochance for him to overhear any conversation,for he was always sent out of the way whenthe two were closeted together. He still metMr. Stark outside, and played billiards withhim frequently. Once he tried to extractsome information from Stark."You've known my uncle a good while," he said,in a tone of assumed indifference."Yes, a good many years," answered Stark,as he made a carom."Were you in business together?""Not exactly, but we may be some time,"returned Stark, with a significant smile."Here?""Well, that isn't decided.""Where did you first meet Uncle Julius?""The kid's growing curious," said Stark tohimself. "Does he think he can pull woolover the eyes of Phil Stark? If he does, hethinks a good deal too highly of himself. Iwill answer his questions to suit myself.""Why don't you ask your uncle that?""I did," said Leonard, "but he snapped meup, and told me to mind my own business. Heis getting terribly cross lately.""It's his stomach, I presume," said Stark,urbanely. "He is a confirmed dyspeptic--that's what's the matter with him. Now; I'vegot the digestion of an ox. Nothing evertroubles me, and the result is that I am as calmand good-natured as a May morning.""Don't you ever get riled, Mr. Stark?" askedLeonard, laughing."Well, hardly ever. Sometimes when I amasked fool questions by one who seems to beprying into what is none of his business, Iget wrathy, and when I'm roused look out !"He glanced meaningly at Leonard, and theboy understood that the words conveyed awarning and a menace."Is anything the matter with you, Mr.Gibbon? Are you as well as usual?" asked Mr.Jennings one morning. The little man wasalways considerate, and he had noticed theflurried and nervous manner of his bookkeeper."No, sir; what makes you ask?" said Gibbon, apologetically."Perhaps you need a vacation," suggested Mr. Jennings."Oh, no, I think not. Besides, I couldn't be spared.""I would keep the books myself for a week to favor you.""You are very kind, but I won't trouble you just yet.A little later on, if I feel more uncomfortable,I will avail myself of your kindness.""Do so. I know that bookkeeping is a strainupon the mind, more so than physical labor."There were special reasons why Mr. Gibbondid not dare to accept the vacationtendered him by his employer. He knew thatPhil Stark would be furious, for it wouldinterfere with his designs. He could not affordto offend this man, who held in his possessiona secret affecting his reputation and good name.The presence of a stranger in a small townalways attracts public attention, and manywere curious about the rakish-looking manwho had now for some time occupied a roomat the hotel.Among others, Carl had several times seenhim walking with Leonard Craig"Leonard," he asked one day, "who is thegentleman I see you so often walking with?""It's a man that's boarding at the hotel. Iplay billiards with him sometimes.""He seems to like Milford.""I don't know. He's over at our house every evening.""Is he?" asked Carl, surprised."Yes; he's an old acquaintance of Uncle Julius.I don't know where they met each other,for he won't tell. He said he and uncle mightgo into business together some time. Betweenyou and me, I think uncle would like to getrid of him. I know he doesn't like him."This set Carl to thinking, but something occurredsoon afterwards that impressed him still more.Occasionally a customer of the house visitedMilford, wishing to give a special order forsome particular line of goods. About thistime a Mr. Thorndike, from Chicago, came toMilford on this errand, and put up at thehotel. He had called at the factory during theday, and had some conversation with Mr.Jennings. After supper a doubt entered the mindof the manufacturer in regard to one point,and he said to Carl: "Carl, are you engagedthis evening?""No, sir.""Will you carry a note for me to the hotel?""Certainly, sir; I shall be glad to do so.""Mr. Thorndike leaves in the morning, and I amnot quite clear as to one of the specificationshe gave me with his order. You noticed thegentleman who went through the factory with me?""Yes, sir.""He is Mr. Thorndike. Please hand him this note,and if he wishes you to remain with him for company,you had better do so.""I will, sir.""Hannah," said Mr. Jennings, as his messenger left withthe note, "Carl is a pleasant addition to our little household?""Yes, indeed he is," responded Hannah, emphatically."If he was twice the trouble I'd be glad to have him here.""He is easy to get along with.""Surely.""Yet his stepmother drove him from his father's house.""She's a wicked trollop, then!" said Hannah,in a deep, stern voice. "I'd like to gethold of her, I would.""What would you do to her?" asked Mr.Jennings, smiling."I'd give her a good shaking," answered Hannah."I believe you would, Hannah," said Mr.Jennings, amused. "On the whole, I think shehad better keep out of your clutches. Still,but for her we would never have met with Carl.What is his father's loss is our gain.""What a poor, weak man his father mustbe," said Hannah, contemptuously, "to let awoman like her turn him against his own fleshand blood!""I agree with you, Hannah. I hope sometime he may see his mistake."Carl kept on his way to the hotel. It wassummer and Mr. Thorndike was sitting on thepiazza smoking a cigar. To him Carl deliveredthe note."It's all right!" he said, rapidly glancingit over. "You may tell Mr. Jennings," andhere he gave an answer to the question askedin the letter."Yes, sir, I will remember.""Won't you sit down and keep me companya little while?" asked Thorndike, who wassociably inclined."Thank you, sir," and Carl sat down in achair beside him."Will you have a cigar?""No, thank you, sir. I don't smoke.""That is where you are sensible. I beganto smoke at fourteen, and now I find it hardto break off. My doctor tells me it is hurtingme, but the chains of habit are strong.""All the more reason for forming good habits, sir.""Spoken like a philosopher. Are you in theemploy of my friend, Mr. Jennings?""Yes, sir.""Learning the business?""That is my present intention.""If you ever come out to Chicago, call onme, and if you are out of a place, I will give you one.""Are you not a little rash, Mr. Thorndike,to offer me a place when you know so little of me?""I trust a good deal to looks. I care morefor them than for recommendations."At that moment Phil Stark came out of thehotel, and passing them, stepped off the piazzainto the street.Mr. Thorndike half rose from his seat,and looked after him."Who is that?" he asked, in an exciting whisper."A man named Stark, who is boarding at the hotel.Do you know him?""Do I know him?" repeated Thorndike. "Heis one of the most successful burglars in the West."CHAPTER XXIII.PREPARING FOR THE BURGLAR.Carl stared at Mr. Thorndike in surprise and dismay."A burglar!" he ejaculated."Yes; I was present in the courtroom whenhe was convicted of robbing the Springfield bank.I sat there for three hours, and his facewas impressed upon my memory. I saw himlater on in the Joliet Penitentiary. I wasvisiting the institution and saw the prisoners fileout into the yard. I recognized this man instantly.Do you know how long he has been here?""For two weeks I should think.""He has some dishonest scheme in his head,I have no doubt. Have you a bank in Milford?""Yes.""He may have some design upon that.""He is very intimate with our bookkeeper,so his nephew tells me."Mr. Thorndike looked startled."Ha! I scent danger to my friend, Mr. Jennings.He ought to be apprised.""He shall be, sir," said Carl, firmly."Will you see him to-night?""Yes, sir; I am not only in his employ,but I live at his house.""That is well.""Perhaps I ought to go home at once.""No attempt will be made to rob the officetill late. It is scarcely eight o'clock.I don't know, however, but I will walk aroundto the house with you, and tell your employerwhat I know. By the way, what sort of a manis the bookkeeper?""I don't know him very well, sir. He hasa nephew in the office, who was transferredfrom the factory. I have taken his place.""Do you think the bookkeeper would join ina plot to rob his employer?""I don't like him. To me he is always disagreeable,but I would not like to say that.""How long has he been in the employ of Mr. Jennings?""As long as two years, I should think.""You say that this man is intimate with him?""Leonard Craig--he is the nephew--says thatMr. Philip Stark is at his uncle's houseevery evening.""So he calls himself Philip Stark, does he?""Isn't that his name?""I suppose it is one of his names. He wasconvicted under that name, and retains it hereon account of its being so far from the placeof his conviction. Whether it is his real nameor not, I do not know. What is the name ofyour bookkeeper?""Julius Gibbon.""I don't remember ever having heard it.Evidently there has been some past acquaintancebetween the two men, and that, I should say,is hardly a recommendation for Mr. Gibbon.Of course that alone is not enough to condemnhim, but the intimacy is certainly a suspiciouscircumstance."The two soon reached the house of Mr. Jennings,for the distance was only a quarter of a mile.Mr. Jennings seemed a little surprised, butgave a kindly welcome to his unexpected guest.It occurred to him that he might have come togive some extra order for goods."You are surprised to see me," said Thorndike."I came on a very important matter."A look of inquiry came over the face of Mr. Jennings."There's a thief in the village--a guest atthe hotel--whom I recognize as one of the mostexpert burglars in the country.""I think I know whom you mean, a man of moderate height,rather thick set, with small, black eyes and a slouch hat.""Exactly.""What can you tell me about him?"Mr. Thorndike repeated the statement hehad already made to Carl."Do you think our bank is in danger?"asked the manufacturer."Perhaps so, but the chief danger threatens you."Mr. Jennings looked surprised."What makes you think so?""Because this man appears to be very intimatewith your bookkeeper.""How do you know that?" asked the little man, quickly."I refer you to Carl.""Leonard Craig told me to-night that this manStark spent every evening at his uncle's house."Mr. Jennings looked troubled."I am sorry to hear this," he said. "I disliketo lose confidence in any man whom I have trusted.""Have you noticed anything unusual in the demeanorof your bookkeeper of late?" asked Thorndike."Yes; he has appeared out of spirits and nervous.""That would seem to indicate he is conspiring to rob you.""This very day, noticing the change in him,I offered him a week's vacation. He promptlydeclined to take it.""Of course. It would conflict with the plansof his confederate. I don't know the man, butI do know human nature, and I venture topredict that your safe will be opened withina week. Do you keep anything of value in it?""There are my books, which are of great value to me.""But not to a thief. Anything else?""Yes; I have a tin box containing fourthousand dollars in government bonds.""Coupon or registered?""Coupon.""Nothing could be better--for a burglar.What on earth could induce you to keep thebonds in your own safe?""To tell the truth, I considered them quiteas safe there as in the bank. Banks are morelikely to be robbed than private individuals.""Circumstances alter cases. Does anyoneknow that you have the bonds in your safe?""My bookkeeper is aware of it.""Then, my friend, I caution you to removethe bonds from so unsafe a depository as soonas possible. Unless I am greatly mistaken,this man, Stark, has bought over your bookkeeper,and will have his aid in robbing you.""What is your advice?""To remove the bonds this very evening," said Thorndike."Do you think the danger so pressing?""Of course I don't know that an attemptwill be made to-night, but it is quite possible.Should it be so, you would have an opportunityto realize that delays are dangerous.""Should Mr. Gibbon find, on opening thesafe to-morrow morning, that the box is gone,it may lead to an attack upon my house.""I wish you to leave the box in the safe.""But I understand that you advised me to remove it.""Not the box, but the bonds. Listen to my plan.Cut out some newspaper slips of about the same bulkas the bonds, put them in place of the bonds in the box,and quietly transfer the bonds in your pocket to yourown house. To-morrow you can place them in the bank.Should no burglary be attempted, let the box remainin the safe, just as if its contents were valuable.""Your advice is good, and I will adopt it,"said Jennings, "and thank you for your valuableand friendly instruction.""If agreeable to you I will accompany you tothe office at once. The bonds cannot be removedtoo soon. Then if anyone sees us entering,it will be thought that you are showingme the factory. It will divert suspicion,even if we are seen by Stark or your bookkeeper.""May I go, too?" asked Carl, eagerly."Certainly," said the manufacturer. "I know, Carl,that you are devoted to my interests.It is a comfort to know this, now thatI have cause to suspect my bookkeeper."It was only a little after nine. The nightwas moderately dark, and Carl was intrustedwith a wax candle, which he put in his pocketfor use in the office. They reached the factorywithout attracting attention, and enteredby the office door.Mr. Jennings opened the safe--he and thebookkeeper alone knew the combination--andwith some anxiety took out the tin box. Itwas possible that the contents had alreadybeen removed. But no! on opening it, thebonds were found intact. According to Mr.Thorndike's advice, he transferred them to hispocket, and substituted folded paper. Then,replacing everything, the safe was once morelocked, and the three left the office.Mr. Thorndike returned to the hotel, andMr. Jennings to his house, but Carl askedpermission to remain out a while longer."It is on my mind that an attempt will bemade to-night to rob the safe," he said."I want to watch near the factory to see if mysuspicion is correct.""Very well, Carl, but don't stay out too long!"said his employer."Suppose I see them entering the office, sir?""Don't interrupt them! They will findthemselves badly fooled. Notice only if Mr.Gibbon is of the party. I must know whether mybookkeeper is to be trusted."CHAPTER XXIV.THE BURGLARY.Carl seated himself behind a stone wall onthe opposite side of the street from the factory.The building was on the outskirts of the village,though not more than half a mile fromthe post office, and there was very little travelin that direction during the evening. Thismade it more favorable for thieves, though upto the present time no burglarious attempthad been made on it. Indeed, Milford had beenexceptionally fortunate in that respect.Neighboring towns had been visited, some ofthem several times, but Milford had escaped.The night was quite dark, but not what iscalled pitchy dark. As the eyes becameaccustomed to the obscurity, they were able tosee a considerable distance. So it was withCarl. From his place of concealment heoccasionally raised his head and looked acrossthe way to the factory. An hour passed, andhe grew tired. It didn't look as if theattempt were to be made that night. Eleveno'clock pealed out from the spire of the Bap-tist Church, a quarter of a mile away. Carlcounted the strokes, and when the last diedinto silence, he said to himself:"I will stay here about ten minutes longer.Then, if no one comes, I will give it up for tonight."The time was nearly up when his quick earcaught a low murmur of voices. Instantlyhe was on the alert. Waiting till the soundcame nearer, he ventured to raise his head foran instant above the top of the wall.His heart beat with excitement when he sawtwo figures approaching. Though it was sodark, he recognized them by their size andoutlines. They were Julius Gibbon, the bookkeeper,and Phil Stark, the stranger staying at the hotel.Carl watched closely, raising his head fora few seconds at a time above the wall, readyto lower it should either glance in his direction.But neither of the men did so. Ignorantthat they were suspected, it was the farthestpossible from their thoughts that anyonewould be on the watch.Presently they came so near that Carl couldhear their voices."I wish it was over," murmured Gibbon, nervously."Don't worry," said his companion. "There is nooccasion for haste. Everybody in Milford is in bedand asleep, and we have several hours at our disposal.""You must remember that my reputation isat stake. This night's work may undo me.""My friend, you can afford to take the chances.Haven't I agreed to give you half the bonds?""I shall be suspected, and shall be obligedto stand my ground, while you will disappearfrom the scene.""Two thousand dollars will pay you for someinconvenience. I don't see why you should besuspected. You will be supposed to be fastasleep on your virtuous couch, while some badburglar is robbing your worthy employer. Ofcourse you will be thunderstruck when in themorning the appalling discovery is made. I'lltell you what will be a good dodge for you.""Well?""Offer a reward of a hundred dollars fromyour own purse for the discovery of the villainwho has robbed the safe and abstractedthe bonds."Phil Stark burst out into a loud guffaw ashe uttered these words."Hush!" said Gibbon, timidly. "I thoughtI heard some one moving.""What a timid fool you are!" muttered Stark,contemptuously. "If I had no more pluck,I'd hire myself out to herd cows.""It's a better business," said Gibbon, bitterly."Well, well, each to his taste! If you loseyour place as bookkeeper, you might offer yourservices to some farmer. As for me, the danger,though there isn't much, is just enoughto make it exciting.""I don't care for any such excitement," saidGibbon, dispiritedly. "Why couldn't you havekept away and let me earn an honest living?""Because I must live as well as you, my dearfriend. When this little affair is over, youwill thank me for helping you to a good thing."Of course all this conversation did not takeplace within Carl's hearing. While it was goingon, the men had opened the office door andentered. Then, as Carl watched the windowclosely he saw a narrow gleam of light froma dark lantern illuminating the interior."Now they are at the safe," thought Carl.We, who are privileged, will enter theoffice and watch the proceedings.Gibbon had no difficulty in opening the safe,for he was acquainted with the combination.Stark thrust in his hand eagerly and drew out the box."This is what we want," he said, in a tone of satisfaction."Have you a key that will open it?""No.""Then I shall have to take box and all.""Let us get through as soon as possible,"said Gibbon, uneasily."You can close the safe, if you want to.There is nothing else worth taking?""No.""Then we will evacuate the premises. Isthere an old newspaper I can use to wrap upthe box in? It might look suspicious if anyoneshould see it in our possession.""Yes, here is one."He handed a copy of a weekly paper to Phil Stark,who skillfully wrapped up the box, and placingit under his arm, went out of the office,leaving Gibbon to follow."Where will you carry it?" asked Gibbon."Somewhere out of sight where I can safely open it.I should have preferred to take the bonds,and leave the box in the safe. Then the bondsmight not have been missed for a week or more.""That would have been better."That was the last that Carl heard. Thetwo disappeared in the darkness, and Carl,raising himself from his place of concealment,stretched his cramped limbs and made the bestof his way home. He thought no one wouldbe up, but Mr. Jennings came out from thesitting-room, where he had flung himself on alounge, and met Carl in the hall."Well?" he said."The safe has been robbed.""Who did it?" asked the manufacturer, quickly."The two we suspected.""Did you see Mr. Gibbon, then?""Yes; he was accompanied by Mr. Stark.""You saw them enter the factory?""Yes, sir; I was crouching behind the stonewall on the other side of the road.""How long were they inside?""Not over fifteen minutes--perhaps only ten.""Mr. Gibbon knew the combination," said Jennings, quietly."There was no occasion to lose time in breaking open the safe.There is some advantage in having a friend inside.Did you see them go out?""Yes, sir.""Carrying the tin box with them?""Yes, sir. Mr. Stark wrapped it in anewspaper after they got outside.""But you saw the tin box?""Yes.""Then, if necessary, you can testify to it.I thought it possible that Mr. Gibbon mighthave a key to open it.""I overheard Stark regretting that he couldnot open it so as to abstract the bonds andleave the box in the safe. In that case, hesaid, it might be some time before the robberywas discovered.""He will himself make an unpleasant discoverywhen he opens the box. I don't thinkthere is any call to pity him, do you, Carl?""No, sir. I should like to be within sightwhen he opens it."The manufacturer laughed quietly."Yes," he said; "if I could see it I shouldfeel repaid for the loss of the box. Let it bea lesson for you, my boy. Those who seek toenrich themselves by unlawful means are likelyin the end to meet with disappointment.""Do you think I need the lesson?" asked Carl, smiling."No, my lad. I am sure you don't. Butyou do need a good night's rest. Let us goto bed at once, and get what sleep we may.I won't allow the burglary to keep me awake."He laughed in high good humor, and Carlwent up to his comfortable room, where he soonlost all remembrance of the exciting scene ofwhich he had been a witness.Mr. Jennings went to the factory at theusual time the next morning.As he entered the office the bookkeeperapproached him pale and excited."Mr. Jennings," he said, hurriedly, "I havebad news for you.""What is it, Mr. Gibbon?""When I opened the safe this morning, Idiscovered that the tin box had been stolen."Mr. Jennings took the news quietly."Have you any suspicion who took it?" he asked."No, sir. I--I hope the loss is not a heavy one.""I do not care to make the extent of the loss public.Were there any marks of violence? Was the safe broken open?""No, sir.""Singular; is it not?""If you will allow me I will join in offeringa reward for the discovery of the thief. Ifeel in a measure responsible.""I will think of your offer, Mr. Gibbon.""He suspects nothing," thought Gibbon,with a sigh of relief.CHAPTER XXV.STARK'S DISAPPOINTMENT.Philip Stark went back to the hotel withthe tin box under his arm. He would like tohave entered the hotel without notice, but thiswas impossible, for the landlord's nephew wasjust closing up. Though not late for the city,it was very late for the country, and he lookedsurprised when Stark came in."I am out late," said Stark, with a smile."Yes.""That is, late for Milford. In the cityI never go to bed before midnight.""Have you been out walking?""Yes.""You found it rather dark, did you not?""It is dark as a pocket.""You couldn't have found the walk a verypleasant one.""You are right, my friend; but I didn't walkfor pleasure. The fact is, I am rather worriedabout a business matter. I have learnedthat I am threatened with a heavy loss--anunwise investment in the West--and I wantedtime to think it over and decide how to act.""I see," answered the clerk, respectfully, forStark's words led him to think that his guestwas a man of wealth."I wish I was rich enough to be worried bysuch a cause," he said, jokingly."I wish you were. Some time I may be ableto throw something in your way.""Do you think it would pay me to go to the West?"asked the clerk, eagerly."I think it quite likely--if you know some oneout in that section.""But I don't know anyone.""You know me," said Stark, significantly."Do you think you could help me to a place,Mr. Stark?""I think I could. A month from now writeto me Col. Philip Stark, at Denver, Colorado,and I will see if I can find an opening for you.""You are very kind, Mr.--I mean Col.Stark," said the clerk, gratefully."Oh, never mind about the title," returnedStark, smiling good-naturedly. "I only gaveit to you just now, because everybody in Denverknows me as a colonel, and I am afraid aletter otherwise addressed would not reach me.By the way, I am sorry that I shall probablyhave to leave you to-morrow.""So soon?""Yes; it's this tiresome business. I shouldnot wonder if I might lose ten thousand dollarsthrough the folly of my agent. I shallprobably have to go out to right things.""I couldn't afford to lose ten thousand dollars,"said the young man, regarding the capitalistbefore him with deference."No, I expect not. At your age I wasn'tworth ten thousand cents. Now--but that'sneither here nor there. Give me a light,please, and I will go up to bed.""He was about to say how much he is worth now,"soliloquized the clerk. "I wish he hadnot stopped short. If I can't be rich myself,I like to talk with a rich man. There's hopefor me, surely. He says that at my age he wasnot worth ten thousand cents. That is onlya hundred dollars, and I am worth that. Imust keep it to pay my expenses to Colorado,if he should send for me in a few weeks."The young man had noticed with somecuriosity the rather oddly-shaped bundle whichStark carried under his arm, but could notsee his way clear to asking any questions aboutit. It seemed queer that Stark should haveit with him while walking. Come to think ofit, he remembered seeing him go out in theearly evening, and he was quite confident thatat that time he had no bundle with him. However,he was influenced only by a spirit of idlecuriosity. He had no idea that the bundle wasof any importance or value. The next dayhe changed his opinion on that subject.Phil Stark went up to his chamber, andsetting the lamp on the bureau, first carefullylocked the door, and then removed the paperfrom the tin box. He eyed it lovingly, andtried one by one the keys he had in his pocket,but none exactly fitted.As he was experimenting he thought with a smileof the night clerk from whom he had just parted."Stark," he soliloquized, addressing himself,"you are an old humbug. You have cleverlyduped that unsophisticated young man downstairs.He looks upon you as a man of unboundedwealth, evidently, while, as a matterof fact, you are almost strapped. Let mesee how much I have got left."He took out his wallet, and counted outseven dollars and thirty-eight cents."That can hardly be said to constitutewealth," he reflected, "but it is all I have overand above the contents of this box. That makesall the difference. Gibbon is of opinion thatthere are four thousand dollars in bondsinside, and he expects me to give him half. ShallI do it? Not such a fool! I'll give him fifteenhundred and keep the balance myself.That'll pay him handsomely, and the rest willbe a good nestegg for me. If Gibbon is onlyhalf shrewd he will pull the wool over the eyesof that midget of an employer, and retain hisplace and comfortable salary. There will beno evidence against him, and he can pose asan innocent man. Bah! what a lot ofhumbug there is in the world. Well,well, Stark, you have your share, nodoubt. Otherwise how would you makea living? To-morrow I must clear outfrom Milford, and give it a wide berth infuture. I suppose there will be a great hue-and-cry about the robbery of the safe. It willbe just as well for me to be somewhere else.I have already given the clerk a good reasonfor my sudden departure. Confound it, it'sa great nuisance that I can't open this box! Iwould like to know before I go to bed just howmuch boodle I have acquired. Then I candecide how much to give Gibbon. If I daredI'd keep the whole, but he might make trouble."Phil Stark, or Col. Philip Stark, as he hadgiven his name, had a large supply of keys,but none of them seemed to fit the tin box."I am afraid I shall excite suspicion if I situp any longer," thought Stark. "I will goto bed and get up early in the morning. ThenI may succeed better in opening this plaguy box."He removed his clothing and got into bed.The evening had been rather an exciting one,but the excitement was a pleasurable one, forhe had succeeded in the plan which he and thebookkeeper had so ingeniously formed and carriedout, and here within reach was the richreward after which they had striven. Mr.Stark was not troubled with a conscience--that he had got rid of years ago--and he wasfilled with a comfortable consciousness ofhaving retrieved his fortunes when they were onthe wane. So, in a short time he fell asleep,and slept peacefully. Toward morning, however,he had a disquieting dream. It seemedto him that he awoke suddenly from slumber.and saw Gibbon leaving the room with the tinbox under his arm. He awoke really withbeads of perspiration upon his brow--awoketo see by the sun streaming in at his windowthat the morning was well advanced, and thetin box was still safe."Thank Heaven, it was but a dream!" he murmured."I must get up and try once more to open the box."The keys had all been tried, and had provednot to fit. Mr. Stark was equal to the emergency.He took from his pocket a button hook and bent itso as to make a pick, and after a little experimentingsucceeded in turning the lock. He lifted the lid eagerly,and with distended eyes prepared to gloat upon the stolenbonds. But over his face there came a startling change.The ashy blue hue of disappointment succeeded the glowing,hopeful look. He snatched at one of the folded slips of paperand opened it. Alas! it was valueless, mere waste paper.He sank into a chair in a limp, hopeless posture,quite overwhelmed. Then he sprang up suddenly,and his expression changed to one of fury and menace."If Julius Gibbon has played this trick upon me,"he said, between his set teeth, "he shall repent it--bitterly!"CHAPTER XXVI.A DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE.Philip Stark sat down to breakfast in asavage frame of mind. He wanted to be revengedupon Gibbon, whom he suspected ofhaving deceived him by opening andappropriating the bonds, and then arranged to havehim carry off the box filled with waste paper.He sat at the table but five minutes, for hehad little or no appetite.From the breakfast room he went out on the piazza,and with corrugated brows smoked a cigar, but it failedto have the usual soothing effect.If he had known the truth he would haveleft Milford without delay, but he was farfrom suspecting that the deception practicedupon him had been arranged by the man whomhe wanted to rob. While there seemed littleinducement for him to stay in Milford, he wasdetermined to seek the bookkeeper, and ascertainwhether, as he suspected, his confederatehad in his possession the bonds which he hadbeen scheming for. If so, he would compelhim by threats to disgorge the larger portion,and then leave town at once.But the problem was, how to see him. Hefelt that it would be venturesome to go roundto the factory, as by this time the loss mighthave been discovered. If only the box hadbeen left, the discovery might be deferred.Then a bright idea occurred to him. He mustget the box out of his own possession, as itsdiscovery would compromise him. Why couldhe not arrange to leave it somewhere on thepremises of his confederate?He resolved upon the instant to carry outthe idea. He went up to his room, wrappedthe tin box in a paper, and walked round tothe house of the bookkeeper. The coast seemedto be clear, as he supposed it would be. Heslipped into the yard, and swiftly entered anouthouse. There was a large wooden chest,or box, which had once been used to storegrain. Stark lifted the cover, dropped thebox inside, and then, with a feeling of relief,walked out of the yard. But he had beenobserved. Mrs. Gibbon chanced to be lookingout of a side window and saw him. She recognizedhim as the stranger who had been in the habitof spending recent evenings with her husband."What can he want here at this time?"she asked herself.She deliberated whether she should go tothe door and speak to Stark, but decided notto do so."He will call at the door if he has anythingto say," she reflected.Phil Stark walked on till he reached the factory.He felt that he must see Julius Gibbon,and satisfy himself as to the meaning of themysterious substitution of waste paper for bonds.When he reached a point where he could seeinto the office, he caught the eye of Leonard,who was sitting at the window. He beckonedfor him to come out, and Leonard was glad to do so."Where are you going?" asked the bookkeeper,observing the boy's movement."Mr. Stark is just across the street, and hebeckoned for me."Julius Gibbon flushed painfully, and hetrembled with nervous agitation, for he fearedsomething had happened."Very well, go out, but don't stay long."Leonard crossed the street and walked up to Stark,who awaited him, looking grim and stern."Your uncle is inside?" he asked."Yes, sir.""Tell him I wish to see him at once--on business of importance.""He's busy," said Leonard. "'He doesn'tleave the office in business hours.""Tell him I must see him--do you hear?He'll come fast enough.""I wonder what it's all about," thoughtLeonard, whose curiosity was naturally excited."Wait a minute!" said Stark, as he turned to go."Is Jennings in?""No, sir, he has gone over to the next town.""Probably the box has not been missed, then,"thought Stark. "So much the better! I canfind out how matters stand, and then leave town.""Very well!" he said, aloud, "let your uncleunderstand that I must see him."Leonard carried in the message. Gibbon madeno objection, but took his hat and went out,leaving Leonard in charge of the office."Well, what is it?" he asked, hurriedly, ashe reached Stark. "Is--is the box all right?""Look here, Gibbon," said Stark, harshly,"have you been playing any of your infernaltricks upon me?""I don't know what you mean," respondedGibbon, bewildered.Stark eyed him sharply, but the bookkeeperwas evidently sincere."Is there anything wrong?" continued the latter."Do you mean to tell me you didn't knowthat wretched box was filled with waste paper?""You don't mean it?" exclaimed Gibbon, in dismay."Yes, I do. I didn't open it till this morning,and in place of government bonds, I foundonly folded slips of newspaper."By this time Gibbon was suspicious. Havingno confidence in Stark, it occurred to himthat it was a ruse to deprive him of his shareof the bonds."I don't believe you," he said. "You wantto keep all the bonds for yourself, and cheatme out of my share.""I wish to Heaven you were right. If therehad been any bonds, I would have acted on thesquare. But somebody had removed them,and substituted paper. I suspected you.""I am ready to swear that this has happenedwithout my knowledge," said Gibbon, earnestly."How, then, could it have occurred?" asked Stark."I don't know, upon my honor. Where is the box?""I--have disposed of it.""You should have waited and opened it before me.""I asked you if you had a key that would open it.I wanted to open it last evening in the office.""True.""You will see after a while that I was actingon the square. You can open it for yourselfat your leisure.""How can I? I don't know where it is.""Then I can enlighten you," said Stark,maliciously. "When you go home, you will find it in a chest in your woodshed."Gibbon turned pale."You don't mean to say you have carried itto my house?" he exclaimed, in dismay."Yes, I do. I had no further use for it,and thought you had the best claim to it.""But, good heavens! if it is found there Ishall be suspected.""Very probably," answered Stark, coolly."Take my advice and put it out of the way.""How could you be so inconsiderate?""Because I suspected you of playing me a trick.""I swear to you, I didn't.""Then somebody has tricked both of us. Has Mr. Jenningsdiscovered the disappearance of the box?""Yes, I told him.""When?""When he came to the office.""What did he say?""He took the matter coolly. He didn't say much.""Where is he?""Gone to Winchester on business.""Look here! Do you think he suspects you?""I am quite sure not. That is why I toldhim about the robbery.""He might suspect me.""He said nothing about suspecting anybody.""Do you think he removed the bonds and substituted paper?""I don't think so.""If this were the case we should both be ina serious plight. I think I had better get outof town. You will have to lend me ten dollars.""I don't see how I can, Stark.""You must!" said Stark, sternly, "or I willreveal the whole thing. Remember, the boxis on your premises.""Heavens! what a quandary I am in," saidthe bookkeeper, miserably. "That must beattended to at once. Why couldn't you put itanywhere else?""I told you that I wanted to be revenged upon you.""I wish you had never come to Milford,"groaned the bookkeeper."I wish I hadn't myself, as things have turned out."They prepared to start for Gibbon's house,when Mr. Jennings drove up. With him weretwo tall muscular men, whom Stark and Gibboneyed uneasily. The two strangers jumpedout of the carriage and advanced toward thetwo confederates."Arrest those men!" said Jennings, in a quiet tone."I charge them with opening and robbing my safelast night about eleven o'clock."CHAPTER XXVII.BROUGHT TO BAY.Phil Stark made an effort to get away,but the officer was too quick for him.In a trice he was handcuffed."What is the meaning of this outrage?"demanded Stark, boldly."I have already explained," said themanufacturer, quietly."You are quite on the wrong tack," continuedStark, brazenly. "Mr. Gibbon was justinforming me that the safe had been openedand robbed. It is the first I knew of it."Julius Gibbon seemed quite prostrated by his arrest.He felt it necessary to say something,and followed the lead of his companion."You will bear me witness, Mr. Jennings,"he said, "that I was the first to inform you ofthe robbery. If I had really committed theburglary, I should have taken care to escapeduring the night.""I should be glad to believe in your innocence,"rejoined the manufacturer. "but I know moreabout this matter than you suppose.""I won't answer for Mr. Gibbon," said Stark,who cared nothing for his confederate,if he could contrive to effect his own escape."Of course he had opportunities, as bookkeeper,which an outsider could not have."Gibbon eyed his companion in crime distrustfully.He saw that Stark was intending to throw him over."I am entirely willing to have my room at the hotel searched,"continued Stark, gathering confidence. "If you find any tracesof the stolen property there, you are welcome to make themost of them. I have no doubt Mr. Gibbon will make youthe same offer in regard to his house."Gibbon saw at once the trap which had beenso craftily prepared for him. He knew thatany search of his premises would result in thediscovery of the tin box, and had no doubt thatStark would he ready to testify to any falsehoodlikely to fasten the guilt upon him.His anger was roused and he forgot his prudence."You--scoundrel!" he hissed between his closed teeth."You seem excited," sneered Stark. "Is it possiblethat you object to the search?""If the missing box is found on my premises,"said Gibbon, in a white heat, "it is becauseyou have concealed it there."Phil Stark shrugged his shoulders."I think, gentlemen," he said, "that settles it.I am afraid Mr Gibbon is guilty. I shall be gladto assist you to recover the stolen property.Did the box contain much that was of value?""I must caution you both against saying anythingthat will compromise you," said one of the officers."I have nothing to conceal," went on Stark,brazenly. "I am obliged to believe that thisman committed the burglary. It is againstme that I have been his companion for the lastweek or two, but I used to know him, and thatwill account for it."The unhappy bookkeeper saw the coils closing around him."I hope you will see your way to release me,"said Stark, addressing himself to Mr. Jennings."I have just received information thatmy poor mother is lying dangerously sick inCleveland, and I am anxious to start for herbedside to-day.""Why did you come round here this morning?"asked Mr. Jennings."To ask Mr. Gibbon to repay me ten dollarswhich he borrowed of me the other day,"returned Stark, glibly."You--liar!" exclaimed Gibbon, angrily."I am prepared for this man's abuse," said Stark."I don't mind admitting now that a few days sincehe invited me to join him in the robbery of the safe.I threatened to inform you of his plan, and he promisedto give it up. I supposed he had done so, but it isclear to me now that he carried out his infamous scheme."Mr. Jennings looked amused. He admired Stark'sbrazen effrontery."What have you to say to this charge, Mr. Gibbon?" he asked."Only this, sir, that I was concerned in the burglary.""He admits it!" said Stark, triumphantly."But this man forced me to it. He threatenedto write you some particulars of my pasthistory which would probably have lost me myposition if I did not agree to join him in theconspiracy. I was weak, and yielded. Nowhe is ready to betray me to save himself.""Mr. Jennings," said Stark, coldly, "youwill know what importance to attach to thestory of a self-confessed burglar. Gibbon, Ihope you will see the error of your ways, andrestore to your worthy employer the box ofvaluable property which you stole from his safe.""This is insufferable!" cried the bookkeeper"You are a double-dyed traitor, Phil Stark.You were not only my accomplice, but youinstigated the crime.""You will find it hard to prove this," sneered Stark."Mr. Jennings, I demand my liberty.If you have any humanity you will not keepme from the bedside of my dying mother.""I admire your audacity, Mr. Stark,"observed the manufacturer, quietly."Don't suppose for a moment that I givethe least credit to your statements.""Thank you, sir," said Gibbon. "I'm ready toaccept the consequences of my act, but I don'twant that scoundrel and traitor to go free.""You can't prove anything against me," saidStark, doggedly, "unless you accept the wordof a self-confessed burglar, who is angry withme because I would not join him.""All these protestations it would be betterfor you to keep till your trial begins, Mr.Stark," said the manufacturer. "However, Ithink it only fair to tell you that I am betterinformed about you and your conspiracy thanyou imagine. Will you tell me where you wereat eleven o'clock last evening?""I was in my room at the hotel--no, I wastaking a walk. I had received news of mymother's illness, and I was so much disturbedand grieved that I could not remain indoors.""You were seen to enter the office of thisfactory with Mr. Gibbon, and after ten minutescame out with the tin box under your arm.""Who saw me?" demanded Stark, uneasily.Carl Crawford came forward and answered this question."I did!" he said."A likely story! You were in bed and asleep.""You are mistaken. I was on watch behindthe stone wall just opposite. If you wantproof, I can repeat some of the conversationthat passed between you and Mr. Gibbon."Without waiting for the request, Carl rehearsedsome of the talk already recorded in a previous chapter.Phil Stark began to see that things were getting seriousfor him, but he was game to the last."I deny it," he said, in a loud voice."Do you also deny it, Mr. Gibbon?" asked Mr. Jennings."No, sir; I admit it," replied Gibbon, witha triumphant glance at his foiled confederate."This is a conspiracy against an innocent man,"said Stark, scowling. "You want to screenyour bookkeeper, if possible. No one hasever before charged me with crime.""Then how does it happen, Mr. Stark, thatyou were confined at the Joliet penitentiaryfor a term of years?""Did he tell you this?" snarled Stark,pointing to Gibbon."No.""Who then?""A customer of mine from Chicago. He sawyou at the hotel, and informed Carl last eveningof your character. Carl, of course, broughtthe news to me. It was in consequence of thisinformation that I myself removed the bondsfrom the box, early in the evening, andsubstituted strips of paper. Your enterprise,therefore, would have availed you little evenif you had succeeded in getting off scot-free.""I see the game is up," said Stark,throwing off the mask. "It's true that I have beenin the Joliet penitentiary. It was there thatI became acquainted with your bookkeeper,"he added, maliciously. "Let him deny it if he dare.""I shall not deny it. It is true," said Gibbon."But I had resolved to live an honest lifein future, and would have done so if this manhad not pressed me into crime by his threats.""I believe you, Mr. Gibbon," said themanufacturer, gently, "and I will see that this iscounted in your favor. And now, gentlemen,I think there is no occasion for further delay."The two men were carried to the lockup andin due time were tried. Stark was sentencedto ten years' imprisonment, Gibbon to five. Atthe end of two years, at the intercession of Mr.Jennings, he was pardoned, and furnished withmoney enough to go to Australia, where, hispast character unknown, he was able to makean honest living, and gain a creditable position.CHAPTER XXVIII.AFTER A YEAR.Twelve months passed without any specialincident. With Carl it was a period of steadyand intelligent labor and progress. He hadexcellent mechanical talent, and made remarkableadvancement. He was not content withattention to his own work, but was a carefulobserver of the work of others, so that in oneyear he learned as much of the business asmost boys would have done in three.When the year was up, Mr. Jenningsdetained him after supper."Do you remember what anniversary this is, Carl?"he asked, pleasantly."Yes, sir; it is the anniversary of my goinginto the factory.""Exactly. How are you satisfied with the year and its work?""I have been contented and happy, Mr. Jennings;and I feel that I owe my happiness and content to you."Mr. Jennings looked pleased."I am glad you say so," he said, "but it isonly fair to add that your own industry andintelligence have much to do with the satisfactoryresults of the year.""Thank you, sir.""The superintendent tells me that outsideof your own work you have a general knowledgeof the business which would make youa valuable assistant to himself in case heneeded one."Carl's face glowed with pleasure."I believe in being thorough," he said, "and Iam interested in every department of the business.""Before you went into the factory you hadnot done any work.""No, sir; I had attended school.""It was not a bad preparation for business,but in some cases it gives a boy disinclinationfor manual labor.""Yes; I wouldn't care to work with my hands all my life.""I don't blame you for that. You have qualified yourselffor something better. How much do I pay you?""I began on two dollars a week and my board.At the end of six months you kindly advanced meto four dollars.""I dare say you have found it none too much for your wants."Carl smiled."I have saved forty dollars out of it," he answered.Mr. Jennings looked pleased."You have done admirably," he said, warmly."Forty dollars is not a large sum,but in laying it by you have formed a habitthat will be of great service to you in after years.I propose to raise you to ten dollars a week.""But, sir, shall I earn so much? You are very kind,but I am afraid you will be a loser by your liberality."Mr. Jennings smiled."You are partly right," he said. "Your servicesat present are hardly worth the sumI have agreed to pay, that is, in the factory,but I shall probably impose upon you otherduties of an important nature soon.""If you do, sir, I will endeavor to meet your expectations.""How would you like to take a journey Carl?""Very much, sir.""I think of sending you--to Chicago."Carl, who had thought perhaps of a fifty-mile trip, looked amazed, but his delight wasequal to his surprise. He had always wishedto see the West, though Chicago can hardlybe called a Western city now, since betweenit and the Pacific there is a broad belt of landtwo thousand miles in extent."Do you think I am competent?" he asked, modestly."I cannot say positively, but I think so," answered Mr. Jennings."Then I shall be delighted to go. Will it be very soon?""Yes, very soon. I shall want you to start next Monday.""I will be ready, sir.""And I may as well explain what are tobe your duties. I am, as you know, manufacturinga special line of chairs which I amdesirous of introducing to the trade. I shallgive you the names of men in my line in Albany,Buffalo, Cleveland and Chicago, andit will be your duty to call upon them, explainthe merits of the chair, and solicit orders.In other words, you will be a traveling salesmanor drummer. I shall pay your travelingexpenses, ten dollars a week, and, if yourorders exceed a certain limit, I shall give youa commission on the surplus.""Suppose I don't reach that limit?""I shall at all events feel that you havedone your best. I will instruct you a littlein your duties between now and the time ofyour departure. I should myself like to goin your stead, but I am needed here. Thereare, of course, others in my employ, older thanyourself, whom I might send, but I have anidea that you will prove to be a good salesman.""I will try to be, sir."On Monday morning Carl left Milford,reached New York in two hours and a halfand, in accordance with the directions of Mr.Jennings, engaged passage and a stateroom onone of the palatial night lines of HudsonRiver steamers to Albany. The boat was wellfilled with passengers, and a few persons wereunable to procure staterooms.Carl, however, applied in time, and obtainedan excellent room. He deposited his gripsacktherein, and then took a seat on deck, meaningto enjoy as long as possible the delightfulscenery for which the Hudson is celebrated.It was his first long journey, and for this reasonCarl enjoyed it all the more. He couldnot but contrast his present position and prospectswith those of a year ago, when, helplessand penniless, he left an unhappy home tomake his own way."What a delightful evening!" said a voice at his side.Turning, Carl saw sitting by him a youngman of about thirty, dressed in somewhatpretentious style and wearing eyeglasses.He was tall and thin, and had sandy side whiskers."Yes, it is a beautiful evening," replied Carl, politely."And the scenery is quite charming. Have youever been all the way up the river?""No, but I hope some day to take a day trip.""Just so. I am not sure but I prefer theRhine, with its romantic castles and vineclad hills.""Have you visited Europe, then?" asked Carl."Oh, yes, several times. I have a passionfor traveling. Our family is wealthy, and Ihave been able to go where I pleased.""That must be very pleasant.""It is. My name is Stuyvesant--one of theold Dutch families."Carl was not so much impressed, perhaps, ashe should have been by this announcement,for he knew very little of fashionable life inNew York."You don't look like a Dutchman," he said, smiling."I suppose you expected a figure like a beer keg,"rejoined Stuyvesant, laughing. "Some of my forefathersmay have answered that description, but I am not built that way.Are you traveling far?""I may go as far as Chicago.""Is anyone with you?""No.""Perhaps you have friends in Chicago?""Not that I am aware of. I am traveling on business.""Indeed; you are rather young for a business man.""I am sixteen.""Well, that cannot exactly be called venerable.""No, I suppose not.""By the way, did you succeed in getting a stateroom?""Yes, I have a very good one.""You're in luck, on my word. I was just too late.The man ahead of me took the last room.""You can get a berth, I suppose.""But that is so common. Really, I shouldnot know how to travel without a stateroom.Have you anyone with you?""No.""If you will take me in I will pay the entire expense."Carl hesitated. He preferred to be alone,but he was of an obliging disposition, and heknew that there were two berths in the stateroom."If it will be an accommodation," he said,"I will let you occupy the room with me, Mr. Stuyvesant.""Will you, indeed! I shall esteem it a very great favor.Where is your room?""I will show you."Carl led the way to No. 17, followed by hisnew acquaintance. Mr. Stuyvesant seemedvery much pleased, and insisted on paying forthe room at once. Carl accepted half the regularcharges, and so the bargain was made.At ten o'clock the two travelers retired to bed.Carl was tired and went to sleep at once.He slept through the night. When he awokein the morning the boat was in dock. Heheard voices in the cabin, and the noise ofthe transfer of baggage and freight to the wharf."I have overslept myself," he said, andjumped up, hurriedly. He looked into the upperberth, but his roommate was gone. Somethingelse was gone, too--his valise, and awallet which he had carried in the pocket ofhis trousers.CHAPTER XXIX.THE LOST BANK BOOK.Carl was not long in concluding that he had beenrobbed by his roommate. It was hard to believethat a Stuyvesant--a representative of one of theold Dutch families of New Amsterdam--should havestooped to such a discreditable act. Carl was sharp enough,however, to doubt the genuineness of Mr. Stuyvesant'sclaims to aristocratic lineage. Meanwhile he blamedhimself for being so easily duped by an artful adventurer.To be sure, it was not as bad as it might be.His pocketbook only contained ten dollars in small bills.The balance of his money he had deposited for safe keepingin the inside pocket of his vest. This he had placedunder his pillow, and so it had escaped the notice of the thief.The satchel contained a supply of shirts,underclothing, etc., and he was sorry to lose it.The articles were not expensive, but it would costhim from a dozen to fifteen dollars to replace them.Carl stepped to the door of his stateroomand called a servant who was standing near."How long have we been at the pier?" he asked."About twenty minutes, sir.""Did you see my roommate go out?""A tall young man in a light overcoat?""Yes.""Yes, sir. I saw him.""Did you notice whether he carried a valise in his hand?""A gripsack? Yes, sir.""A small one?""Yes, sir.""It was mine.""You don't say so, sir! And such a respectable-lookin' gemman, sir.""He may have looked respectable, but he wasa thief all the same.""You don't say? Did he take anything else, sir?""He took my pocketbook.""Well, well! He was a rascal, sure!But maybe it dropped on the floor."Carl turned his attention to the carpet, butsaw nothing of the lost pocketbook. He didfind, however, a small book in a brown cover,which Stuyvesant had probably dropped. Pickingit up, he discovered that it was a bankbook on the Sixpenny Savings Bank of Albany,standing in the name of Rachel Norris,and numbered 17,310."This is stolen property, too," thought Carl."I wonder if there is much in it."Opening the book he saw that there werethree entries, as follows: 1883. Jan. 23. Five hundred dollars. " June 10. Two hundred dollars. " Oct. 21. One hundred dollars.There was besides this interest credited tothe amount of seventy-five dollars. The deposits,therefore, made a grand total of $875.No doubt Mr. Stuyvesant had stolen thisbook, but had not as yet found an opportunityof utilizing it."What's dat?" asked the colored servant."A savings bank book. My roommate musthave dropped it. It appears to belong to alady named Rachel Norris. I wish I couldget it to her.""Is she an Albany lady, sir?""I don't know.""You might look in the directory.""So I will. It is a good idea.""I hope the gemman didn't take all your money, sir.""No; he didn't even take half of it. I onlywish I had been awake when the boat got to the dock.""I would have called you, sir, if you had asked me.""I am not much used to traveling. I shallknow better next time what to do."The finding of the bank book partially consoledCarl for the loss of his pocketbook andgripsack. He was glad to be able to defeatStuyvesant in one of his nefarious schemes,and to be the instrument of returning MissNorris her savings bank book.When he left the boat he walked along tillhe reached a modest-looking hotel, where hethought the charges would be reasonable. Heentered, and, going to the desk, asked if hecould have a room."Large or small?" inquired the clerk."Small.""No. 67. Will you go up now?""Yes, sir.""Any baggage?""No; I had it stolen on the boat."The clerk looked a little suspicious."We must require pay in advance, then," he said."Certainly," answered Carl, pulling out a roll of bills.I suppose you make special terms to commercial travelers?""Are you a drummer?""Yes. I represent Henry Jennings, of Milford, New York.""All right, sir. Our usual rates are two dollarsa day. To you they will be a dollar and a quarter.""Very well; I will pay you for two days. Is breakfast ready?""It is on the table, sir.""Then I will go in at once. I will go to my room afterwards."In spite of his loss, Carl had a heartyappetite, and did justice to the comfortablebreakfast provided. He bought a morningpaper, and ran his eye over the advertisingcolumns. He had never before read an Albanypaper, and wished to get an idea of thecity in its business aspect. It occurred tohim that there might be an advertisement ofthe lost bank book. But no such notice methis eyes.He went up to his room, which was smalland plainly furnished, but looked comfortable.Going down again to the office, he lookedinto the Albany directory to see if he could findthe name of Rachel Norris.There was a Rebecca Norris, who was putdown as a dressmaker, but that was as nearas he came to Rachel Norris.Then he set himself to looking over the othermembers of the Norris family. Finally hepicked out Norris & Wade, furnishing goods,and decided to call at the store and inquireif they knew any lady named Rachel Norris.The prospect of gaining information in thisway did not seem very promising, but no othercourse presented itself, and Carl determinedto follow up the clew, slight as it was.Though unacquainted with Albany streets,he had little difficulty in finding the store ofNorris & Wade. It was an establishment ofgood size, well supplied with attractive goods.A clerk came forward to wait upon Carl."What can I show you?" he asked."You may show me Mr. Norris, if youplease," responded Carl, with a smile."He is in the office," said the clerk, with ananswering smile.Carl entered the office and saw Mr. Norris,a man of middle age, partially bald, with agenial, business-like manner."Well, young man?" he said, looking at Carl inquiringly."You must excuse me for troubling you,sir," said Carl, who was afraid Mr. Norriswould laugh at him, "but I thought you mightdirect me to Rachel Norris."Mr. Norris looked surprised."What do you want of Rachel Norris?" he asked, abruptly."I have a little business with her," answered Carl."Of what nature?""Excuse me, but I don't care to mention it at present.""Humph! you are very cautious for a young man, or rather boy.""Isn't that a good trait, sir?""Good, but unusual. Are you a schoolboy?""No, sir; I am a drummer."Mr. Norris put on a pair of glasses and scrutinizedCarl more closely."I should like to see--just out of curiosity--the man that you travel for," he said."I will ask him to call whenever he visits Albany.There is his card."Mr. Norris took it."Why, bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "It is Henry Jennings,an old schoolmate of mine.""And a good business man, even if he hassent out such a young drummer.""I should say so. There must be somethingin you, or he wouldn't have trusted you.How is Jennings?""He is well, sir--well and prosperous.""That is good news. Are you in his employ?""Yes, sir. This is the first time I havetraveled for him.""How far are you going?""As far as Chicago.""I don't see what you can have to do withRachel Norris. However, I don't mind tellingyou that she is my aunt, and--well, uponmy soul! Here she is now."And he ran hastily to greet a tall, thin lady,wearing a black shawl, who at that momententered the office.CHAPTER XXX.AN ECCENTRIC WOMAN.Miss Norris dropped into a chair as if she were fatigued."Well, Aunt Rachel, how are you feeling this morning?"asked her nephew."Out of sorts," was the laconic reply."I am very sorry for that. I suppose there is reason for it.""Yes; I've been robbed.""Indeed!" said Mr. Norris. "Lost your purse? I wonder more ladies are not robbed,carrying their money as carelessly as they do.""That isn't it. I am always careful, as carefulas any man.""Still you got robbed.""Yes, but of a bank book."Here Carl became attentive. It was clear thathe would not have to look any farther for theowner of the book he had found in his stateroom."What kind of a bank book?" inquired Mr. Norris."I had nearly a thousand dollars depositedin the Sixpenny Savings Bank. I called atthe bank to make some inquiries about interest,and when I came out I presume some rascalfollowed me and stole the book----""Have you any idea who took it?""I got into the horse cars, near the bank;next to me sat a young man in a light overcoat.There was no one on the other side of me.I think he must have taken it.""That was Stuyvesant," said Carl to himself."When did this happen, Aunt Rachel?""Three days since.""Why didn't you do something about it before?""I did. I advertised a reward of twenty-five dollarsto anyone who would restore it to me.""There was no occasion for that. By givingnotice at the bank, they would give youa new book after a time.""I preferred to recover the old one. Besides,I thought I would like to know what became of it.""I can tell you, Miss Norris," said Carl,who thought it time to speak.Hitherto Miss Norris had not seemed awareof Carl's presence. She turned abruptly andsurveyed him through her glasses."Who are you?" she asked.This might seem rude, but it was only Miss Rachel's way."My name is Carl Crawford.""Do I know you?""No, Miss Norris, but I hope you will.""Humph! that depends. You say you knowwhat became of my bank book?""Yes, Miss Norris.""Well?""It was taken by the young man who sat next to you.""How do you know?""He robbed me last night on the way fromNew York in a Hudson River steamboat.""That doesn't prove that he robbed me.I was robbed here in this city.""What do you say to this?" asked Carl,displaying the bank book."Bless me! That is my book. Where did you get it?"Carl told his story briefly, how, on discovering thathe had been robbed, he explored the stateroomand found the bank book."Well, well, I am astonished! And how didyou know Mr. Norris was my nephew?""I didn't know. I didn't know anythingabout him or you, but finding his name in thedirectory, I came here to ask if he knew anysuch person.""You are a smart boy, and a good, honest one,"said Miss Norris. "You have earned thereward, and shall have it.""I don't want any reward, Miss Norris,"rejoined Carl. "I have had very little troublein finding you.""That is of no consequence. I offered the reward,and Rachel Norris is a woman of her word."She thrust her hand into her pocket, and drewout a wallet, more suitable to a man's use.Openings this, she took out three bills,two tens and a five, and extended them toward Carl."I don't think I ought to take this money,Miss Norris," said Carl, reluctantly."Did that rascal rob you, too?""Yes.""Of how much?""Ten dollars in money and some underclothing.""Very well! This money will go toward making up your loss.You are not rich, I take it?""Not yet.""I am, and can afford to give you this money.There, take it.""Thank you, Miss Norris.""I want to ask one favor of you. If youever come across that young man in the lightovercoat, have him arrested, and let me know.""I will, Miss Norris.""Do you live in Albany?"Carl explained that he was traveling onbusiness, and should leave the next day if hecould get through."How far are you going?""To Chicago.""Can you attend to some business for me there?""Yes, if it won't take too long a time.""Good! Come round to my house to supper at six o'clock,and I will tell you about it. Henry, write my addresson a piece of paper, and give it to this young man."Henry Norris smiled, and did as his aunt requested."You have considerable confidence in this young man?" he said."I have.""You may be mistaken.""Rachel Norris is not often mistaken.""I will accept your invitation with pleasure,Miss Norris," said Carl, bowing politely."Now, as I have some business to attend to,I will bid you both good-morning."As Carl went out, Miss Norris said: "Henry,that is a remarkable boy.""I think favorably of him myself. He isin the employ of an old schoolmate of mine,Henry Jennings, of Milford. By the way,what business are you going to put into his hands?""A young man who has a shoe store on StateStreet has asked me for a loan of two thousanddollars to extend his business. Hisname is John French, and his mother was anold schoolmate of mine, though some yearsyounger. Now I know nothing of him. Ifhe is a sober, steady, industrious young man,I may comply with his request. This boy willinvestigate and report to me.""And you will be guided by his report?""Probably.""Aunt Rachel, you are certainly very eccentric.""I may be, but I am not often deceived.""Well, I hope you won't be this time. The boyseems to me a very good boy, but you can'tput an old head on young shoulders.""Some boys have more sense than men twice their age.""You don't mean me, I hope, Aunt Rachel,"said Mr. Norris, smiling."Indeed, I don't. I shall not flatter you byspeaking of you as only twice this boy's age.""I see, Aunt Rachel, there is no getting thebetter of you."Meanwhile Carl was making business calls.He obtained a map of the city, and located thedifferent firms on which he proposed to call.He had been furnished with a list by Mr.Jennings. He was everywhere pleasantly received--in some places with an expression of surpriseat his youth--but when he began to talkhe proved to be so well informed upon thesubject of his call that any prejudice excitedby his age quickly vanished. He had thesatisfaction of securing several unexpectedlylarge orders for the chair, and transmittingthem to Mr. Jennings by the afternoon mail.He got through his business at four o'clock,and rested for an hour or more at his hotel.Then he arranged his toilet, and set out forthe residence of Miss Rachel Norris.It was rather a prim-looking, three-storyhouse, such as might be supposed to belongto a maiden lady. He was ushered into a sitting-room on the second floor, where Miss Norrissoon joined him."I am glad to see you, my young friend,"she said, cordially. "You are in time.""I always try to be, Miss Norris.""It is a good way to begin."Here a bell rang."Supper is ready," she said. "Follow me downstairs."Carl followed the old lady to the rear roomon the lower floor. A small table was set inthe center of the apartment."Take a seat opposite me," said Miss Norris.There were two other chairs, one on eachside--Carl wondered for whom they were set.No sooner were he and Miss Norris seated thantwo large cats approached the table, andjumped up, one into each chair. Carl lookedto see them ordered away, but instead, MissNorris nodded pleasantly, saying: "That's right,Jane and Molly, you are punctual at meals."The two cats eyed their mistress gravely,and began to purr contentedly.CHAPTER XXXI.CARL TAKES SUPPER WITH MISS NORRIS."This is my family," said Miss Norris,pointing to the cats."I like cats," said Carl."Do you?" returned Miss Norris, lookingpleased. "Most boys tease them. Do you seepoor Molly's ear? That wound came from astone thrown by a bad boy.""Many boys are cruel," said Carl, "but Iremember that my mother was very fond of cats,and I have always protected them from abuse."As he spoke he stroked Molly, who purredan acknowledgment of his attention. Thiscompleted the conquest of Miss Norris, whoinwardly decided that Carl was the finest boyshe had ever met. After she had served Carlfrom the dishes on the table, she poured outtwo saucers of milk and set one before each cat,who, rising upon her hind legs, placed herforepaws on the table, and gravely partookof the refreshments provided. Jane and Mollywere afterwards regaled with cold meat, andthen, stretching themselves out on their chairs,closed their eyes in placid content.During the meal Miss Norris questioned Carlclosely as to his home experiences. Havingno reason for concealment Carl frankly relatedhis troubles with his stepmother, elicitingexpressions of sympathy and approval from his hostess."Your stepmother must be an ugly creature?" she said."I am afraid I am prejudiced against her,"said Carl, "but that is my opinion.""Your father must be very weak to be influencedagainst his own son by such a woman."Carl winced a little at this outspoken criticism,for he was attached to his father in spite of hisunjust treatment."My father is an invalid," he said, apologetically,"and I think he yielded for the sake of peace.""All the same, he ought not to do it," saidMiss Norris. "Do you ever expect to live athome again?""Not while my stepmother is there,"answered Carl. "But I don't know that I shouldcare to do so under any circumstances, as Iam now receiving a business training. Ishould like to make a little visit home," headded, thoughtfully, "and perhaps I may doso after I return from Chicago. I shall haveno favors to ask, and shall feel independent.""If you ever need a home," said MissNorris, abruptly, "come here. You will be welcome.""Thank you very much," said Carl, gratefully."It is all the more kind in you sinceyou have known me so short a time.""I have known you long enough to judgeof you," said the maiden lady. "And now ifyou won't have anything more we will go intothe next room and talk business."Carl followed her into the adjoining room,and Miss Norris at once plunged into the subject.She handed him a business card bearingthis inscription: JOHN FRENCH,BOOTS, SHOES AND RUBBER GOODS, 42a State Street, CHICAGO."This young man wants me to lend him twothousand dollars to extend his business," shesaid. "He is the son of an old school friend,and I am willing to oblige him if he is a sober,steady and economical business man. I wantyou to find out whether this is the case andreport to me.""Won't that be difficult?" asked Carl."Are you afraid to undertake anything that is difficult?""No," answered Carl, with a smile. "I was only afraidI might not do the work satisfactorily.""I shall give you no instructions," said Miss Norris."I shall trust to your good judgment.I will give you a letter to Mr. French,which you can use or not, as you think wise.Of course, I shall see that you are paid foryour trouble.""Thank you," said Carl. "I hope my servicesmay be worth compensation.""I don't know how you are situated as to money,but I can give you some in advance,"and the old lady opened her pocketbook."No, thank you, Miss Norris; I shall not need it.I might have been short if you had not kindly paid mea reward for a slight service.""Slight, indeed! If you had lost a bankbook like mine you would be glad to get itback at such a price. If you will catch therascal who stole it I will gladly pay you asmuch more.""I wish I might for my own sake, but I amafraid it would be too late to recover my moneyand clothing."At an early hour Carl left the house,promising to write to Miss Norris from Chicago.CHAPTER XXXII.A STARTLING DISCOVERY."Well," thought Carl, as he left the housewhere he had been so hospitably entertained,"I shall not lack for business. Miss Norrisseems to have a great deal of confidence inme, considering that I am a stranger. I willtake care that she does not repent it.""Can you give a poor man enough money tobuy a cheap meal?" asked a plaintive voice.Carl scanned the applicant for charityclosely. He was a man of medium size, witha pair of small eyes, and a turnup nose. Hisdress was extremely shabby, and he had theappearance of one who was on bad terms withfortune. There was nothing striking abouthis appearance, yet Carl regarded him withsurprise and wonder. Despite the differencein age, he bore a remarkable resemblance tohis stepbrother, Peter Cook."I haven't eaten anything for twenty-four hours,"continued the tramp, as he may properly be called."It's a hard world to such as me, boy.""I should judge so from your looks," answered Carl."Indeed you are right. I was born to ill luck."Carl had some doubts about this. Those whorepresent themselves as born to ill luck canusually trace the ill luck to errors or shortcomingsof their own. There are doubtlessinequalities of fortune, but not as great asmany like to represent. Of two boys whostart alike one may succeed, and the other fail,but in nine cases out of ten the success orfailure may be traced to a difference in thequalities of the boys."Here is a quarter if that will do you any good,"said Carl. The man clutched at it with avidity."Thank you. This will buy me a cup of coffeeand a plate of meat, and will put new life into me."He was about to hurry away, but Carl feltlike questioning him further. The extraordinaryresemblance between this man and hisstepbrother led him to think it possible thatthere might be a relationship between them.Of his stepmother's family he knew little ornothing. His father had married her on shortacquaintance, and she was very reticent abouther former life. His father was indolent, andhad not troubled himself to make inquiries.He took her on her own representation as thewidow of a merchant who had failed in business.On the impulse of the moment--an impulsewhich he could not explain--Carl askedabruptly--"Is your name Cook?"A look of surprise, almost of stupefaction,appeared on the man's face."Who told you my name?" he asked."Then your name is Cook?""What is your object in asking?" said the man, suspiciously."I mean you no harm," returned Carl, "but I have reasons for asking.""Did you ever see me before?" asked the man."No.""Then what makes you think my name is Cook? It is not written on my face, is it?""No.""Then how----"Carl interrupted him."I know a boy named Peter Cook," he said,"who resembles you very strongly.""You know Peter Cook--little Peter?"exclaimed the tramp."Yes. Is he a relation of yours?""I should think so!" responded Cook,emphatically. "He is my own son--that is,if he is a boy of about your age.""Yes.""Where is he? Is his mother alive?""Your wife!" exclaimed Carl, overwhelmedat the thought."She was my wife!" said Cook, "but whileI was in California, some years since, she tookpossession of my small property, procured adivorce through an unprincipled lawyer,and I returned to find myself without wife,child or money. Wasn't that a mean trick?""I think it was.""Can you tell me where she is?" asked Cook, eagerly."Yes, I can.""Where can I find my wife?" asked Cook, with much eagerness.Carl hesitated. He did not like his stepmother;he felt that she had treated him meanly,but he was not prepared to reveal herpresent residence till he knew what courseCook intended to pursue."She is married again," he said, watchingCook to see what effect this announcementmight have upon him."I have no objection, I am sure," respondedCook, indifferently. "Did she marry well?""She married a man in good circumstances.""She would take good care of that.""Then you don't intend to reclaim her?""How can I? She obtained a divorce,though by false representations. I am gladto be rid of her, but I want her to restore thetwo thousand dollars of which she robbed me.I left my property in her hands, but whenshe ceased to be my wife she had no right totake possession of it. I ought not to be surprised,however. It wasn't the first theft she had committed.""Can this be true?" asked Carl, excited."Yes, I married her without knowing muchof her antecedents. Two years after marriageI ascertained that she had served a year's termof imprisonment for a theft of jewelry froma lady with whom she was living as housekeeper.""Are you sure of this?""Certainly. She was recognized by a friendof mine, who had been an official at the prison.When taxed with it by me she admitted it, butclaimed that she was innocent. I succeededin finding a narrative of the trial in an oldfile of papers, and came to the conclusion thatshe was justly convicted.""What did you do?""I proposed separation, but she begged meto keep the thing secret, and let ourselves remainthe same as before. I agreed out of considerationfor her, but had occasion to regretit. My business becoming slack, I decided togo to California in the hope of acquiring acompetence. I was not fortunate there, andwas barely able, after a year, to get home. Ifound that my wife had procured a divorce,and appropriated the little money I had left.Where she had gone, or where she had conveyedour son, I could not learn. You sayyou know where she is.""I do.""Will you tell me?""Mr. Cook," said Carl, after a pause forreflection, "I will tell you, but not just at present.I am on my way to Chicago on business.On my return I will stop here, and take youwith me to the present home of your formerwife. You will understand my interest in thematter when I tell you that she is now marriedto a relative of my own.""I pity him whoever he is," said Cook."Yes, I think he is to be pitied," said Carl,gravely; "but the revelation you will be ableto make will enable him to insist upon a separation.""The best thing he can do! How long beforeyou return to Albany?""A week or ten days.""I don't know how I am to live in the meantime,"said Cook, anxiously. "I am penniless,but for the money you have just given me.""At what price can you obtain board?""I know of a decent house where I can obtain boardand a small room for five dollars a week.""Here are twelve dollars. This will pay fortwo weeks' board, and give you a small sum besides.What is the address?"Cook mentioned a number on a street by the river.Carl took it down in a notebook with whichhe had provided himself."When I return to Albany," he said, "I willcall there at once.""You won't forget me?""No; I shall be even more anxious to meetyou than you will be to meet me. The oneto whom your former wife is married is verynear and dear to me, and I cannot bear tothink that he has been so wronged andimposed upon!""Very well, sir! I shall wait for you withconfidence. If I can get back from my formerwife the money she robbed me of, I canget on my feet again, and take a respectableposition in society. It is very hard for a mandressed as I am to obtain any employment."Looking at his shabby and ragged suit, Carlcould readily believe this statement. If hehad wished to employ anyone he would hardlyhave been tempted to engage a man sodiscreditable in appearance. "Be of good courage,Mr. Cook," he said, kindly. "If your story is correct,and I believe it is, there are better days in store for you.""Thank you for those words," said Cook, earnestly."They give me new hope."CHAPTER XXXIII.FROM ALBANY TO NIAGARA.Carl took the afternoon train on thefollowing day for Buffalo. His thoughts werebusy with the startling discovery he had madein regard to his stepmother. Though he hadnever liked her, he had been far from imaginingthat she was under the ban of the law.It made him angry to think that his father hadbeen drawn into a marriage with such awoman--that the place of his idolized motherhad been taken by one who had served a termat Sing Sing.Did Peter know of his mother's past disgrace?he asked himself. Probably not, for ithad come before his birth. He only wonderedthat the secret had never got out before. Theremust be many persons who had known her asa prisoner, and could identify her now. Shehad certainly been fortunate with the fearof discovery always haunting her. Carl couldnot understand how she could carry her headso high, and attempt to tyrannize over his fatherand himself.What the result would be when Dr. Crawfordlearned the antecedents of the womanwhom he called wife Carl did not for amoment doubt. His father was a man of verystrict ideas on the subject of honor, and goodrepute, and the discovery would lead him toturn from Mrs. Crawford in abhorrence. Moreover,he was strongly opposed to divorce, andCarl had heard him argue that a divorced personshould not be permitted to remarry. Yetin ignorance he had married a divorcedwoman, who had been convicted of theft, andserved a term of imprisonment. The discoverywould be a great shock to him, and itwould lead to a separation and restore thecordial relations between himself and his son.Not long after his settlement in Milford;Carl had written as follows to his father:"Dear Father:--Though I felt obliged toleave home for reasons which we both understand,I am sure that you will feel interestedto know how I am getting along. I did notrealize till I had started out how difficult it isfor a boy, brought up like myself, to supporthimself when thrown upon his own exertions.A newsboy can generally earn enough moneyto maintain himself in the style to which heis accustomed, but I have had a comfortableand even luxurious home, and could hardlybring myself to live in a tenement house, ora very cheap boarding place. Yet I wouldrather do either than stay in a home madeunpleasant by the persistent hostility of onemember."I will not take up your time by relatingthe incidents of the first two days after I lefthome. I came near getting into serious troublethrough no fault of my own, but happilyescaped. When I was nearly penniless I fellin with a prosperous manufacturer of furniturewho has taken me into his employment.He gives me a home in his own house, and paysme two dollars a week besides. This is enoughto support me economically, and I shall aftera while receive better pay."I am not in the office, but in the factory,and am learning the business practically, startingin at the bottom. I think I have a taste forit, and the superintendent tells me I am makingremarkable progress. The time was whenI would have hesitated to become a workingboy, but I have quite got over such foolishness.Mr. Jennings, my employer, who is considereda rich man, began as I did, and I hope someday to occupy a position similar to his."I trust you are quite well and happy, dearfather. My only regret is, that I cannot seeyou occasionally. While my stepmother andPeter form part of your family, I feel that Ican never live at home. They both dislike me,and I am afraid I return the feeling. If youare sick or need me, do not fail to send for me,for I can never forget that you are my father,as I am your affectionate son,Carl."This letter was handed to Dr. Crawford atthe breakfast table. He colored and lookedagitated when he opened the envelope, andMrs. Crawford, who had a large share ofcuriosity, did not fail to notice this."From whom is your letter, my dear?" sheasked, in the soft tone which was habitual withher when she addressed her husband"The handwriting is Carl's," answered Dr.Crawford, already devouring the letter eagerly."Oh!" she answered, in a chilly tone. "Ihave been expecting you would hear from him.How much money does he send for?""I have not finished the letter." Dr.Crawford continued reading. When he had finishedhe laid it down beside his plate."Well?" said his wife, interrogatively."What does he have to say? Does he ask leaveto come home?""No; he is quite content where he is.""And where is that?""At Milford.""That is not far away?""No; not more than sixty miles.""Does he ask for money?""No; he is employed.""Where?""In a furniture factory.""Oh, a factory boy.""Yes; he is learning the business.""He doesn't seem to be very ambitious,"sneered Mrs. Crawford."On the contrary, he is looking forward tobeing in business for himself some day.""On your money--I understand.""Really, Mrs. Crawford, you do the boyinjustice. He hints nothing of the kind. Heevidently means to raise himself gradually ashis employer did before him. By the way, hehas a home in his employer's family. I thinkMr. Jennings must have taken a fancy to Carl.""I hope he will find him more agreeable thanI did," said Mrs. Crawford, sharply."Are you quite sure that you always treatedCarl considerately, my dear?""I didn't flatter or fondle him, if that iswhat you mean. I treated him as well as hecould expect.""Did you treat him as well as Peter, for example?""No. There is a great difference between thetwo boys. Peter is always respectful and obliging,and doesn't set up his will against mine.He never gives me a moment's uneasiness.""I hope you will continue to find him acomfort, my dear," said Dr. Crawford, meekly.He looked across the table at the fat,expressionless face of his stepson, and he blamedhimself because he could not entertain awarmer regard for Peter. Somehow he hada slight feeling of antipathy, which he triedto overcome."No doubt he is a good boy, since his mothersays so," reflected the doctor, "but I don'tappreciate him. I will take care, however, thatneither he nor his mother sees this."When Peter heard his mother's encomiumupon him, he laughed in his sleeve."I'll remind ma of that when she scolds me,"he said to himself. "I'm glad Carl isn't comingback. He was always interferin' with me.Now, if ma and I play our cards right we'llget all his father's money. Ma thinks he won'tlive long, I heard her say so the other day.Won't it be jolly for ma and me to come intoa fortune, and live just as we please! I hopema will go to New York. It's stupid here, butI s'pose we'll have to stay for the present.""Is Carl's letter private?" asked Mrs. Crawford, after a pause."I--I think he would rather I didn't showit ," returned her husband, remembering theallusion made by Carl to his stepmother."Oh, well, I am not curious," said Mrs. Crawford, tossing her head.None the less, however, she resolved to seeand read the letter, if she could get hold of itwithout her husband's knowledge. He wasso careless that she did not doubt soon to findit laid down somewhere. In this she provedcorrect. Before the day was over, she foundCarl's letter in her husband's desk. Sheopened and read it eagerly with a running fireof comment."`Reasons which we both understand,'" sherepeated, scornfully. "That is a covert attackupon me. Of course, I ought to expect that.So he had a hard time. Well, it served himright for conducting himself as he did. Ah,here is another hit at me--`Yet I would ratherdo either than live in a home made unpleasantby the persistent hostility of one member.'He is trying to set his father against me. Well,he won't succeed. I can twist Dr. Paul Crawfordround my finger, luckily, and neitherhis son nor anyone else can diminish myinfluence over him."She read on for some time till she reachedthis passage: "While my stepmother andPeter form a part of your family I can neverlive at home. They both dislike me, and I amafraid I return the feeling." "Thanks forthe information," she muttered. "I knew itbefore. This letter doesn't make me feel anymore friendly to you, Carl Crawford. I seethat you are trying to ingratiate yourself withyour father, and prejudice him against me andmy poor Peter, but I think I can defeat yourkind intentions."She folded up the letter, and replaced it inher husband's desk."I wonder if my husband will answer Carl'sartful epistle," she said to herself. "He canif he pleases. He is weak as water, and I willsee that he goes no farther than words."Dr. Crawford did answer Carl's letter. Thisis his reply:"Dear Carl:--i am glad to hear that youare comfortably situated. I regret that youwere so headstrong and unreasonable. Itseems to me that you might, with a littleeffort, have got on with your stepmother. Youcould hardly expect her to treat you in thesame way as her own son. He seems to bea good boy, but I own that I have never beenable to become attached to him."Carl read this part of the letter with satisfaction.He knew how mean and contemptible Peter was,and it would have gone to his heart to thinkthat his father had transferred his affectionto the boy he had so much reason to dislike."I am glad you are pleased with yourprospects. I think I could have done better foryou had your relations with your stepmotherbeen such as to make it pleasant for you toremain at home. You are right in thinkingthat I am interested in your welfare. I hope,my dear Carl, you will become a happy andprosperous man. I do not forget that you aremy son, and I am still your affectionate father,"Paul Crawford."Carl was glad to receive this letter. It showed himthat his stepmother had not yet succeeded in alienatingfrom him his father's affection.But we must return to the point where weleft Carl on his journey to Buffalo. Heenjoyed his trip over the Central road during thehours of daylight. He determined on his returnto make an all-day trip so that he mightenjoy the scenery through which he now rodein the darkness.At Buffalo he had no other business exceptthat of Mr. Jennings, and immediately afterbreakfast he began to make a tour of thefurniture establishments. He met with excellentsuccess, and had the satisfaction of sendinghome some large orders. In the evening hetook train for Niagara, wishing to see the fallsin the early morning, and resume his journeyin the afternoon.He registered at the International Hotel onthe American side. It was too late to do morethan take an evening walk, and see the fallsgleaming like silver through the darkness."I will go to bed early," thought Carl, "andget up at six o'clock."He did go to bed early, but he was morefatigued than he supposed, and slept longer thanhe anticipated. It was eight o'clock before hecame downstairs. Before going in to breakfast,he took a turn on the piazzas. Here he fell inwith a sociable gentleman, much addicted to gossip."Good-morning!" he said. "Have you seen the falls yet?""I caught a glimpse of them last eveningI am going to visit them after breakfast.""There are a good many people staying herejust now--some quite noted persons, too.""Indeed!""Yes, what do you say to an English lord?"and Carl's new friend nodded with am importantair, as if it reflected great credit on the hotelto have so important a guest."Does he look different from anyone else?"asked Carl, smiling."Well, to tell the truth, he isn't much tolook at," said the other. "The gentleman whois with him looks more stylish. I thoughthe was the lord at first, but I afterwardslearned that he was an American named Stuyvesant."Carl started at the familiar name."Is he tall and slender, with side whiskers,and does he wear eyeglasses?" he asked, eagerly."Yes; you know him then?" said the other,in surprise."Yes," answered Carl, with a smile, "I am slightlyacquainted with him. I am very anxious to meet him again."CHAPTER XXXIV.CARL MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF AN ENGLISH LORD."There they are now," said the stranger,suddenly pointing out two persons walkingslowly along the piazza. "The small man,in the rough suit, and mutton-chop whiskers,is Lord Bedford."Carl eyed the British nobleman with some curiosity.Evidently Lord Bedford was no dude. His suit wasof rough cloth and illfitting. He was barely fivefeet six inches in height, with features decidedly plain,but with an absence of pretension that was creditableto him, considering that he was really whathe purported to be. Stuyvesant walked byhis side, nearly a head taller, and of moredistinguished bearing, though of plebeian extraction.His manner was exceedingly deferential,and he was praising England and everythingEnglish in a fulsome manner."Yes, my lord," Carl overheard him say,"I have often thought that society in Englandis far superior to our American society.""Thanks, you are very kind," drawled thenobleman, "but really I find things verydecent in America, upon my word. I had beenreading Dickens's `Notes' before I came overand I expected to find you very uncivilized,and--almost aboriginal; but I assure you Ihave met some very gentlemanly persons inAmerica, some almost up to our English standard.""Really, my lord, such a tribute from a man in yourposition is most gratifying. May I state this on your authority?""Yes, I don't mind, but I would rather not get intothe papers, don't you know. You are not a--reporter, I hope.""I hope not," said Mr. Stuyvesant, in a lofty tone."I am a scion of one of the oldest families in New York.Of course I know that social position is a very differentthing here from what it is in England. It must be agratifying thing to reflect that you are a lord.""Yes, I suppose so. I never thought much about it.""I should like so much to be a lord. I care little for money.""Then, by Jove, you are a remarkable man.""In comparison with rank, I mean. I would rather be a lordwith a thousand pounds a year than a rich merchant with tentimes as much.""You'll find it very inconvenient being a lordon a thousand; you might as well be a beggar.""I suppose, of course, high rank requires a large rent roll.In fact, a New York gentleman requires more than a trifleto support him. I can't dress on less than two hundredpounds a year.""Your American tailors are high-priced, then?""Those that I employ; we have cheap tailors,of course, but I generally go to Bell."Mr. Stuyvesant was posing as a gentlemanof fashion. Carl, who followed at a little distancebehind the pair, was much amused byhis remarks, knowing what he did about him."I think a little of going to Englandin a few months," continued Stuyvesant."Indeed! You must look me up," said Bedford, carelessly."I should, indeed, be delighted," said Stuyvesant, effusively."That is, if I am in England. I may be on the Continent,but you can inquire for me at my club--the Piccadilly.""I shall esteem it a great honor, my lord.I have a penchant for good society. The lowerorders are not attractive to me.""They are sometimes more interesting,"said the Englishman; "but do you know, I amsurprised to hear an American speak in this way.I thought you were all on a level here in a republic.""Oh, my lord!" expostulated Stuyvesant,deprecatingly. "You don't think I would associatewith shopkeepers and common tradesmen?""I don't know. A cousin of mine isinterested in a wine business in London.He is a younger son with a small fortune, anddraws a very tidy income from his city business.""But his name doesn't appear on the sign, I infer.""No, I think not. Then you are not in business,Mr. Stuyvesant?""No; I inherited an income from my father.It isn't as large as I could wish, and I haveabstained from marrying because I could notmaintain the mode of living to which I havebeen accustomed.""You should marry a rich girl.""True! I may do so, since your lordshiprecommends it. In fact, I have in view ayoung lady whose father was once lord mayor(I beg pardon, mayor) of New York.Her father is worth a million.""Pounds?""Well, no, dollars. I should have said twohundred thousand pounds.""If the girl is willing, it may be a good plan.""Thank you, my lord. Your advice is very kind.""The young man seems on very good termswith Lord Bedford," said Carl's companion,whose name was Atwood, with a shade of envyin his voice."Yes," said Carl."I wish he would introduce me," went on Mr. Atwood."I should prefer the introduction of a different man," said Carl."Why? He seems to move in good society.""Without belonging to it.""Then you know him?""Better than I wish I did."Atwood looked curious."I will explain later," said Carl;"now I must go in to breakfast.""I will go with you."Though Stuyvesant had glanced at Carl, hedid not appear to recognize him, partly, nodoubt, because he had no expectation of meetingthe boy he had robbed, at Niagara. Besides,his time and attention were so muchtaken up by his aristocratic acquaintance thathe had little notice for anyone else. Carlobserved with mingled amusement and vexationthat Mr. Stuyvesant wore a new necktie, whichhe had bought for himself in New York, andwhich had been in the stolen gripsack."If I can find Lord Bedford alone I will puthim on his guard," thought Carl. "I shallspoil Mr. Stuyvesant's plans."After breakfast Carl prepared to go downto the falls.On the way he overtook Lord Bedford walkingin the same direction, and, as it happened,without a companion. Carl quickened hispace, and as he caught up with him, he raisedhis hat, and said: "Lord Bedford, I believe.""Yes," answered the Englishman, inquiringly."I must apologize for addressing a stranger,but I want to put you on your guard againsta young man whom I saw walking with youon the piazza.""Is he--what do you know of him?" askedLord Bedford, laying aside his air of indifference."I know that he is an adventurer and a thief.I made his acquaintance on a Hudson Riversteamer, and he walked off with my valise anda small sum of money.""Is this true?" asked the Englishman, in amazement."Quite true. He is wearing one of my neckties at this moment.""The confounded cad!" ejaculated the Englishman, angrily."I suppose he intended to rob me.""I have no doubt of it. That is why Iventured to put you on your guard.""I am a thousand times obliged to you. Why,the fellow told me he belonged to one of thebest families in New York.""If he does, he doesn't do much credit to the family.""Quite true! Why, he was praising everything English.He evidently wanted to gain my confidence.""May I ask where you met him?" asked Carl."On the train. He offered me a light. BeforeI knew it, he was chatting familiarly with me.But his game is spoiled. I will let himknow that I see through him and his designs.""Then my object is accomplished," said Carl."Please excuse my want of ceremony." Heturned to leave, but Bedford called him back."If you are going to the falls, remain with me,"he said. "We shall enjoy it better in company.""With pleasure. Let me introduce myself as Carl Crawford.I am traveling on business and don't belong to oneof the first families.""I see you will suit me," said the Englishman, smiling.Just then up came Stuyvesant, panting and breathless."My lord," he said, "I lost sight of you. If you willallow me I will join you."Sir!" said the Englishman, in a freezingvoice, "I have not the honor of knowing you."Stuyvesant was overwhelmed."I--I hope I have not offended you, my lord," he said."Sir, I have learned your character from this young man."This called the attention of Stuyvesant to Carl.He flushed as he recognized him"Mr. Stuyvesant," said Carl, "I must troubleyou to return the valise you took from my stateroom,and the pocketbook which you borrowed.My name is Carl Crawford, and my room is 71."Stuyvesant turned away abruptly. He left the valise at the desk,but Carl never recovered his money.CHAPTER XXXV.WHAT CARL LEARNED IN CHICAGO.As Carl walked back from the falls he metMr. Atwood, who was surprised to find h*isyoung acquaintance on such intimate termswith Lord Bedford. He was about to passwith a bow, when Carl, who was good-natured,said: "Won't you join us, Mr. Atwood?If Lord Bedford will permit, I should liketo introduce you.""Glad to know any friend of yours, Mr. Crawford,"said the Englishman, affably."I feel honored by the introduction," said Atwood,bowing profoundly."I hope you are not a friend of Mr.--ah,Mr. Stuyvesant," said the nobleman, "the personI was talking with this morning. Mr.Crawford tells me he is a--what do you callit?--a confidence man.""I have no acquaintance with him, my lord.I saw him just now leaving the hotel.""I am afraid he has gone away with my valise and money,"said Carl."If you should be inconvenienced, Mr. Crawford,"said the nobleman, "my purse is at your disposal.""Thank you very much, Lord Bedford," said Carl,gratefully. "I am glad to say I am stillfairly well provided with money.""I was about to make you the same offer,Mr. Crawford," said Atwood."Thank you! I appreciate your kindness,even if I'm not obliged to avail myself of it."Returning to the hotel, Lord Bedfordordered a carriage, and invited Atwood and Carlto accompany him on a drive. Mr. Atwoodwas in an ecstasy, and anticipated with proudsatisfaction telling his family of his intimatefriend, Lord Bedford, of England. The peer,though rather an ordinary-looking man,seemed to him a model of aristocratic beauty.It was a weakness on the part of Mr. Atwood,but an amiable one, and is shared by manywho live under republican institutions.After dinner Carl felt obliged to resume hisjourney. He had found his visit to Niagaravery agreeable, but his was a business and nota pleasure trip, and loyalty to his employerrequired him to cut it short. Lord Bedfordshook his hand heartily at parting."I hope we shall meet again, Mr. Crawford,"he said. "I expect, myself, to reach Chicagoon Saturday, and shall be glad to have you callon me at the Palmer House.""Thank you, my lord; I will certainlyinquire for you there.""He is a very good fellow, even if he is a lord,"thought Carl.Our young hero was a thorough American, and wasdisposed to think with Robert Burns, that"The rank is but the guinea, stamp;The man's the gold for a' that!"No incident worth recording befell Carl onhis trip to Chicago. As a salesman he metwith excellent success, and surprised Mr.Jennings by the size of his orders. He was led,on reaching Chicago, to register at the ShermanHouse, on Clark Street, one of the mostreliable among the many houses for travelersoffered by the great Western metropolis.On the second day he made it a point to findout the store of John French, hoping to acquirethe information desired by Miss Norris.It was a store of good size, and apparentlywell stocked. Feeling the need of new footgear,Carl entered and asked to be shown some shoes.He was waited upon by a young clerk named Gray,with whom he struck up a pleasant acquaintance."Do you live in Chicago?" asked Gray? sociably."No; I am from New York State. I am here on business.""Staying at a hotel?""Yes, at the Sherman. If you are at leisurethis evening I shall be glad to have you callon me. I am a stranger here, and likely tofind the time hang heavy on my hands.""I shall be free at six o'clock.""Then come to supper with me.""Thank you, I shall be glad to do so,"answered Gray, with alacrity. Living as he didat a cheap boarding house, the prospect of asupper at a first-class hotel was very attractive.He was a pleasant-faced young man oftwenty, who had drifted to Chicago from hiscountry home in Indiana, and found it hardto make both ends meet on a salary of ninedollars a week. His habits were good, his mannerwas attractive and won him popularitywith customer's, and with patience he waslikely to succeed in the end."I wish I could live like this every day,"he said, as he rose from a luxurious supper."At present my finances won't allow me to boardat the Sherman.""Nor would mine," said Carl; "but I am allowedto spend money more freely when I am traveling.""Are you acquainted in New York?" asked Gray."I have little or no acquaintance in the city,"answered Carl."I should be glad to get a position there.""Are you not satisfied with your present place?""I am afraid I shall not long keep it.""Why not? Do you think you are in anydanger of being discharged?""It is not that. I am afraid Mr. French willbe obliged to give up business.""Why?" asked Carl, with keen interest."I have reason to think he is embarrassed.I know that he has a good many bills out,some of which have been running a long time.If any pressure is brought to bear upon him,he may have to suspend."Carl felt that he was obtaining important information.If Mr. French were in such a condition Miss Norriswould be pretty sure to lose her money if she advanced it."To what do you attribute Mr. French's embarrassment?" he asked."He lives expensively in a handsome house near Lincoln Park,and draws heavily upon the business for his living expenses.I think that explains it. I only wonder that he has been ableto hold out so long.""Perhaps if he were assisted he would be able to keephis head above water.""He would need a good deal of assistance.You see that my place isn't very secure, andI shall soon need to be looking up another.""I don't think I shall need to inquire any farther,"thought Carl. "It seems to me Miss Norris hadbetter keep her money."Before he retired he indited the followingletter to his Albany employer:Miss Rachel Norris."Dear Madam:--I have attended to yourcommission, and have to report that Mr.French appears to be involved in businessembarrassments, and in great danger to bankruptcy.The loan he asks of you would no doubtbe of service, but probably would notlong delay the crash. If you wish to assisthim, it would be better to allow him to fail,and then advance him the money to put himon his feet. I am told that his troubles comefrom living beyond his means."Yours respectfully,"Carl Crawford."By return mail Carl received the following note:"My Dear Young Friend:--Your reportconfirms the confidence I reposed in you.It is just the information I desired.I shall take your advice and refuse the loan.What other action I may take hereafter I cannot tell.When you return, should you stop in Albany,please call on me. If unable to do this, writeme from Milford.Your friend,"Rachel Norris."Carl was detained for several days in Chicago.He chanced to meet his English friend,Lord Bedford, upon his arrival, and the nobleman,on learning where he was staying, alsoregistered at the Sherman House. In hiscompany Carl took a drive over the magnificentboulevard which is the pride of Chicago, androse several degrees in the opinion of thoseguests who noticed his intimacy with the English guest.Carl had just completed his Chicago businesswhen, on entering the hotel, he was surprisedto see a neighbor of his father's--CyrusRobinson--a prominent business man of EdgewoodCenter. Carl was delighted, for he hadnot been home, or seen any home friends forover a year."I am glad to see you, Mr. Robinson," hesaid, offering his hand."What! Carl Crawford!" exclaimed Robinson,in amazement. "How came you in Chicago?Your father did not tell me you were here.""He does not know it. I am only here on a business visit.Tell me, Mr. Robinson, how is my father?""I think, Carl, that he is not at all well.I am quite sure he misses you, and I don't believeyour stepmother's influence over him isbeneficial. Just before I came away I hearda rumor that troubled me. It is believed inEdgewood that she is trying to induce yourfather to make a will leaving all, or nearly allhis property to her and her son.""I don't care so much for that, Mr. Robinson,as for my father's health.""Carl," said Robinson, significantly, "if sucha will is made I don't believe your father willlive long after it.""You don't mean that?" said Carl, horror-struck."I think Mrs. Crawford, by artful meanswill worry your father to death. He is of anervous temperament, and an unscrupulouswoman can shorten his life without laying herselfopen to the law."Carl's face grew stern."I will save my father," he said, "anddefeat my stepmother's wicked schemes.""I pray Heaven you can. There is no time to be lost.""I shall lose no time, you may be sure.I shall be at Edgewood within a week."CHAPTER XXXVI.MAKING A WILL.In Edgewood Center events moved slowly.In Carl Crawford's home dullness reignedsupreme. He had been the life of the house,and his absence, though welcome to his stepmother,was seriously felt by his father, whoday by day became thinner and weaker, whilehis step grew listless and his face seldombrightened with a smile. He was anxious tohave Carl at home again, and the desire becameso strong that he finally broached the subject."My dear," he said one day at the breakfast table,"I have been thinking of Carl considerably of late.""Indeed!" said Mrs. Crawford, coldly."I think I should like to have him at home once more."Mrs. Crawford smiled ominously."He is better off where he is," she said, softly."But he is my only son, and I never see him,"pleaded her husband."You know very well, Dr. Crawford," rejoined his wife,"that your son only made trouble in the house while he was here.""Yet it seems hard that he should be driven from his father's home,and forced to take refuge among strangers.""I don't know what you mean by his being driven from home,"said Mrs. Crawford, tossing her head. "He made himself disagreeable,and, not being able to have his own way, he took French leave.""The house seems very lonely without him," went on Dr. Crawford,who was too wise to get into an argument with his wife."It certainly is more quiet. As for company, Peter is still here,and would at any time stay with you."Peter did not relish this suggestion, and did not indorse it."I should not care to confine him to the house,"said Dr. Crawford, as his glance rested on the plainand by no means agreeable face of his stepson."I suppose I need not speak of myself.You know that you can always call upon me."If Dr. Crawford had been warmly attachedto his second wife, this proposal would havecheered him, but the time had gone by whenhe found any pleasure in her society. Therewas a feeling of almost repulsion which hetried to conceal, and he was obliged to acknowledgeto himself that the presence of his wifegave him rather uneasiness than comfort."Carl is very well off where he is," resumedMrs. Crawford. "He is filling a businessposition, humble, perhaps, but still one that giveshim his living and keeps him out of mischief.Let well enough alone, doctor, and don'tinterrupt his plans.""I--I may be foolish," said the doctor,hesitating, "but I have not been feeling as wellas usual lately, and if anything should happento me while Carl was absent I should dievery unhappy."Mrs. Crawford regarded her husband withuneasiness."Do you mean that you think you are inany danger?" she asked."I don't know. I am not an old man, but,on the other hand, I am an invalid. My fatherdied when he was only a year older thanI am at present."Mrs. Crawford drew out her handkerchief,and proceeded to wipe her tearless eyes."You distress me beyond measure by yourwords, my dear husband. How can I thinkof your death without emotion? What shouldI do without you?""My dear, you must expect to survive me.You are younger than I, and much stronger.""Besides," and Mrs. Crawford made anartful pause, "I hardly like to mention it, butPeter and I are poor, and by your deathmight be left to the cold mercies of the world.""Surely I would not fail to provide for you."Mrs. Crawford shook her head."I am sure of your kind intentions, my husband,"she said, "but they will not avail unless you providefor me in your will.""Yes, it's only right that I should do so. As soon asI feel equal to the effort I will draw up a will.""I hope you will, for I should not care to bedependent on Carl, who does not like me. Ihope you will not think me mercenary, but toPeter and myself this is of vital importance.""No, I don't misjudge you. I ought to havethought of it before.""I don't care so much about myself," saidMrs. Crawford, in a tone of self-sacrifice,"but I should not like to have Peter thrownupon the world without means.""All that you say is wise and reasonable,"answered her husband, wearily. "I will attendto the matter to-morrow."The next day Mrs. Crawford came into herhusband's presence with a sheet of legal cap."My dear husband," she said, in a soft,insinuating tone, "I wished to spare you trouble,and I have accordingly drawn up a willto submit to you, and receive your signature,if you approve it."Dr. Crawford looked surprised."Where did you learn to write a will?" he asked."I used in my days of poverty to copy documents for a lawyer,"she replied. "In this way I became something of a lawyer myself.""I see. Will you read what you have prepared?"Mrs. Crawford read the document in her hand. It providedin the proper legal phraseology for an equal divisionof the testator's estate between the widow and Carl."I didn't know, of course, what provision you intendedto make for me," she said, meekly. "Perhaps you do notcare to leave me half the estate.""Yes, that seems only fair. You do not mention Peter.I ought to do something for him.""Your kindness touches me, my dear husband,but I shall be able to provide for himout of my liberal bequest. I do not wish torob your son, Carl. I admit that I do not like him,but that shall not hinder me from being just."Dr. Crawford was pleased with this unexpectedconcession from his wife. He felt that he shouldbe more at ease if Carl's future was assured."Very well, my dear," he said, cheerfully."I approve of the will as you have drawn itup, and I will affix my signature at once.""Then, shall I send for two of the neighborsto witness it?""It will be well."Two near neighbors were sent for andwitnessed Dr. Crawford's signature to the will.There was a strangely triumphant look inMrs. Crawford's eyes as she took the documentafter it had been duly executed."You will let me keep this, doctor?" sheasked. "It will be important for your son aswell as myself, that it should be in safe hands.""Yes; I shall be glad to have you do so. Irejoice that it is off my mind.""You won't think me mercenary, my dearhusband, or indifferent to your life?""No; why should I?""Then I am satisfied."Mrs. Crawford took the will, and carryingit upstairs, opened her trunk, removed the falsebottom, and deposited under it the last willand testament of Dr. Paul Crawford."At last!" she said to herself. "I am secure,and have compassed what I have labored for so long."Dr. Crawford had not noticed that the willto which he affixed his signature was not thesame that had been read to him. Mrs. Crawfordhad artfully substituted another paperof quite different tenor. By the will actuallyexecuted, the entire estate was left to Mrs. Crawford, who was left guardian of her sonand Carl, and authorized to make such provisionfor each as she might deem suitable. This,of course, made Carl entirely dependent ona woman who hated him."Now, Dr. Paul Crawford," said Mrs. Crawfordto herself, with a cold smile, "you maydie as soon as you please. Peter and I areprovided for. Your father died when a yearolder than you are now, you tell me. It ishardly likely that you will live to a greaterage than he."She called the next day on the family physician,and with apparent solicitude asked hisopinion of Dr. Crawford's health."He is all I have," she said, pathetically,"all except my dear Peter. Tell me what youthink of his chances of continued life.""Your husband," replied the physician, "hasone weak organ. It is his heart. He may livefor fifteen or twenty years, but a suddenexcitement might carry him off in a moment.The best thing you can do for him is to keephim tranquil and free from any sudden shock."Mrs. Crawford listened attentively."I will do my best," she said, "since so muchdepends on it."When she returned home it was with a settledpurpose in her heart.CHAPTER XXXVII.PETER LETS OUT A SECRET."Can you direct me to the house of Dr. Crawford?"asked a stranger.The inquiry was addressed to Peter Cookin front of the hotel in Edgewood Center."Yes, sir; he is my stepfather!""Indeed! I did not know that my old friendwas married again. You say you are his stepson?""Yes, sir.""He has an own son, about your age, I should judge.""That's Carl! he is a little older than me.""Is he at home?""No," answered Peter, pursing up his lips."Is he absent at boarding school?""No; he's left home.""Indeed!" ejaculated the stranger, in surprise."How is that?""He was awfully hard to get along with, anddidn't treat mother with any respect. Hewanted to have his own way, and, of course,ma couldn't stand that.""I see," returned the stranger, and he eyedPeter curiously. "What did his father sayto his leaving home?" he asked."Oh, he always does as ma wishes.""Was Carl willing to leave home?""Yes; he said he would rather go than obey ma.""I suppose he receives an allowance from his father?""No; he wanted one, but ma put her foot downand said he shouldn't have one.""Your mother seems to be a woman of considerable firmness.""You bet, she's firm. She don't allow no boy to boss her.""Really, this boy is a curiosity," said Reuben Ashcroftto himself. "He doesn't excel in the amiableand attractive qualities. He has a sort of brutalfrankness which can't keep a secret.""How did you and Carl get along together?" he asked, aloud."We didn't get along at all. He wanted to boss me,and ma and I wouldn't have it.""So the upshot was that he had to leave the houseand you remained?""Yes, that's the way of it," said Peter, laughing."And Carl was actually sent out to earn his own livingwithout help of any kind from his father?""Yes.""What is he doing?" asked Ashcroft, in some excitement."Good heavens! he may have suffered from hunger.""Are you a friend of his?" asked Peter, sharply."I am a friend of anyone who requires a friend.""Carl is getting along well enough. He is at workin some factory in Milford, and gets a living.""Hasn't he been back since he first left home?""No.""How long ago is that?""Oh, 'bout a year," answered Peter, carelessly."How is Dr. Crawford? Is he in good health?""He ain't very well. Ma told me the otherday she didn't think he would live long.She got him to make a will the other day.""Why, this seems to be a conspiracy!" thought Ashcroft."I'd give something to see that will.""I suppose he will provide for you and your mother handsomely?""Yes; ma said she was to have control of the property.I guess Carl will have to stand round if he expects any favors.""It is evident this boy can't keep a secret," thought Ashcroft."All the better for me. I hope I am in time to defeat thiswoman's schemes.""There's the house," said Peter, pointing it out."Do you think Dr. Crawford is at home?""Oh, yes, he doesn't go out much. Ma is away this afternoon.She's at the sewing circle, I think.""Thank you for serving as my guide," said Ashcroft."There's a little acknowledgment which I hope will be of service to you."He offered a half dollar to Peter, who accepted it joyfullyand was profuse in his thanks."Now, if you will be kind enough to tell the doctorthat an old friend wishes to see him,I shall be still further obliged.""Just follow me, then," said Peter, and heled the way into the sitting-room.CHAPTER XXXVIII.Dr. CRAWFORD IS TAKEN TO TASK.After the first greetings, Reuben Ashcroftnoticed with pain the fragile look of his friend."Are you well?" he asked"I am not very strong," said Dr. Crawford, smiling faintly,"but Mrs. Crawford takes good care of me.""And Carl, too--he is no doubt a comfort to you?"Dr. Crawford flushed painfully."Carl has been away from home for a year,he said, with an effort."That is strange your own son, too! Is thereanything unpleasant? You may confide in me,as I am the cousin of Carl's mother.'"The fact is, Carl and Mrs. Crawford didn'thit it off very well.""And you took sides against your own son,said Ashcroft, indignantly."I begin to think I was wrong, Reuben.You don't know how I have missed the boy."Yet you sent him out into the world without a penny.""How do you know that?" asked Dr. Crawford quickly."I had a little conversation with your stepsonas I came to the house. He spoke very franklyand unreservedly about family affairs;He says you do whatever his mother tells you.Dr. Crawford looked annoyed and blushed with shame."Did he say that?" he asked."Yes; he said his mother would not allow you to help Carl.""He--misunderstood ""Paul, I fear he understands the case only too well.I don't want to pain you, but your wifeis counting on your speedy death.""I told her I didn't think I should live long.""And she got you to make a will?""Yes; did Peter tell you that?""He said his mother was to have controlof the property, and Carl would get nothingif he didn't act so as to please her.""There is some mistake here. By my will--made yesterday--Carl is to have an equal share,and nothing is said about his being dependent on anyone.""Who drew up the will?""Mrs. Crawford.""Did you read it?""Yes."Ashcroft looked puzzled."I should like to read the will myself," he said,after a pause. "Where is it now?""Mrs. Crawford has charge of it."Reuben Ashcroft remained silent, but his mind was busy."That woman is a genius of craft," he said to himself."My poor friend is but a child in her hands. I didnot know Paul would be so pitiably weak.""How do you happen to be here in Edgewood, Reuben?"asked the doctor."I had a little errand in the next town, andcould not resist the temptation of visiting you.""You can stay a day or two, can you not?""I will, though I had not expected to do so.""Mrs. Crawford is away this afternoon. Shewill be back presently, and then I will introduce you."At five o'clock Mrs. Crawford returned,and her husband introduced her to his friend.Ashcroft fixed his eyes upon her searchingly."Her face looks strangely familiar," he saidto himself. "Where can I have seen her?"Mrs. Crawford, like all persons who have asecret to conceal, was distrustful of strangers.She took an instant dislike to Reuben Ashcroft,and her greeting was exceedingly cold."I have invited Mr. Ashcroft to make me a visitof two or three days, my dear," said her husband."He is a cousin to Carl's mother."Mrs. Crawford made no response, but kepther eyes fixed upon the carpet. She couldnot have shown more plainly that the invitationwas not approved by her."Madam does not want me here," thoughtAshcroft, as he fixed his gaze once more uponhis friend's wife. Again the face looked familiar,but he could not place it."Have I not seen you before, Mrs. Crawford?"he asked, abruptly."I don't remember you," she answered, slowly."Probably I resemble some one you have met.""Perhaps so," answered Ashcroft, but hecould not get rid of the conviction that somewhereand some time in the past he had metMrs. Crawford, and under circumstances thathad fixed her countenance in his memory.After supper Dr. Crawford said: "My dear,I have told our guest that I had, as a prudentialmeasure, made my will. I wish you would get it,and let me read it to him."Mrs. Crawford looked startled and annoyed."Couldn't you tell him the provisions of it?" she said."Yes, but I should like to show him the document."She turned and went upstairs. She was absentat least ten minutes. When she returnedshe was empty-handed."I am sorry to say," she remarked, with aforced laugh, "that I have laid away the willso carefully that I can't find it."Ashcroft fixed a searching look upon her,that evidently annoyed her."I may be able to find it to-morrow," she resumed."I think you told me, Paul," said Ashcroft,turning to Dr. Crawford, "that by the willyour estate is divided equally between Carland Mrs. Crawford.""Yes.""And nothing is said of any guardianshipon the part of Mrs. Crawford?""No; I think it would be better, Ashcroft,that you should be Carl's guardian. A mancan study his interests and control him better.""I will accept the trust," said Ashcroft,"though I hope it may be many years beforethe necessity arises."Mrs. Crawford bit her lips, and darted anangry glance at the two friends. She foresawthat her plans were threatened with failure.The two men chatted throughout the evening,and Dr. Crawford had never of late seemed happier.It gave him new life and raised his spirits to chatover old times with his early friend.CHAPTER XXXIX.A MAN OF ENERGY.The next morning Ashcroft said to his host:"Paul, let us take a walk to the village."Dr. Crawford put on his hat, and went outwith his friend."Now, Paul," said Ashcroft, when they weresome rods distant from the house, "is there alawyer in Edgewood?""Certainly, and a good one.""Did he indite your will?""No; Mrs. Crawford wrote it out.She was at one time copyist for a lawyer.""Take my advice and have another drawn upto-day without mentioning the matter to her.She admits having mislaid the one made yesterday.""It may be a good idea.""Certainly, it is a prudent precaution. Thenyou will be sure that all is safe. I have, myself,executed a duplicate will. One I keep,the other I have deposited with my lawyer."Ashcroft was a man of energy. He saw thatDr. Crawford, who was of a weak, vacillatingtemper, executed the will. He and anotherwitnessed it, and the document was left withthe lawyer."You think I had better not mention thematter to Mrs. Crawford?" he said."By no means--she might think it was a reflectionupon her for carelessly mislaying the first.""True," and the doctor, who was fond ofpeace, consented to his friend's plan."By the way," asked Ashcroft, "who was your wifewhat was her name, I mean--before her second marriage?""She was a Mrs. Cook.""Oh, I see," said Ashcroft, and his facelighted up with surprise and intelligence"What do you see?" inquired Dr. Crawford."I thought your wife's face was familiar.I met her once when she was Mrs. Cook.""You knew her, then?""No, I never exchanged a word with her tillI met her under this roof."How can I tell him that I first saw herwhen a visitor to the penitentiary among thefemale prisoners?" Ashcroft asked himself."My poor friend would sink with mortification."They were sitting in friendly chat after theirreturn from their walk, when Mrs. Crawfordburst into the room in evident excitement."Husband," she cried, "Peter has broughthome a terrible report. He has heard froma person who has just come from Milford thatCarl has been run over on the railroad andinstantly killed!"Dr. Crawford turned pale, his featuresworked convulsively, and he put his hand tohis heart, as he sank back in his chair, his faceas pale as the dead."Woman!" said Ashcroft, sternly, "I believeyou have killed your husband!""Oh, don't say that! How could I be so imprudent?"said Mrs. Crawford, clasping her hands,and counterfeiting distress.Ashcroft set himself at once to save hisfriend from the result of the shock."Leave the room!" he said, sternly, to Mrs. Crawford."Why should I? I am his wife.""And have sought to be his murderer. You knowthat he has heart disease. Mrs. --Cook,I know more about you than you suppose."Mrs. Crawford's color receded."I don't understand you," she said. Shehad scarcely reached the door, when there wasa sound of footsteps outside and Carl dashedinto the room, nearly upsetting his stepmother."You here?" she said, frigidly."What is the matter with my father?" asked Carl."Are you Carl?" said Ashcroft, quickly."Yes.""Your father has had a shock. I think I cansoon bring him to."A few minutes later Dr. Crawford opened his eyes."Are you feeling better, Paul?" asked Ashcroft, anxiously."Didn't I hear something about Carl--something terrible?""Carl is alive and well," said he, soothingly;"Are you sure of that?" asked Dr. Crawford, in excitement."Yes, I have the best evidence of it. Here is Carl himself." Carl came forward and was clasped in his father's arms."Thank Heaven, you are alive," he said."Why should I not be?" asked Carl, bewildered, turning to Ashcroft."Your stepmother had the--let me say imprudence,to tell your father that you had been killed on the railroad.""Where could she have heard such a report?""I am not sure that she heard it at all," said Ashcroft,in a low voice. "She knew that your father had heart disease."CHAPTER XL.CONCLUSION.At this moment Mrs. Crawford re-entered the room."What brings you here?" she demanded, coolly, of Carl."I came here because this is my father's house, madam.""You have behaved badly to me," said Mrs. Crawford."You have defied my authority, and brought sorrowand distress to your good father. I thought youwould have the good sense to stay away.""Do you indorse this, father?" asked Carl,turning to Dr. Crawford."No!" answered his father, with unwonted energy."My house will always be your home.""You seem to have changed your mind, Dr. Crawford,"sneered his wife."Where did you pick up the report of Carl's being killedon the railroad?" asked the doctor, sternly."Peter heard it in the village," said Mrs. Crawford, carelessly."Did it occur to you that the sudden newsmight injure your husband?" asked Ashcroft."I spoke too impulsively. I realize too late my imprudence,"said Mrs. Crawford, coolly. "Have you lost your place?" she asked,addressing Carl."No. I have just returned from Chicago."His stepmother looked surprised."We have had a quiet time since you left us," she said."If you value your father's health and peace of mind,you will not remain here.""Is my presence also unwelcome?" asked Ashcroft."You have not treated me with respect," repliedMrs. Crawford. "If you are a gentleman,you will understand that under the circumstancesit will be wise for you to take your, departure.""Leaving my old friend to your care?""Yes, that will be best.""Mr. Ashcroft, can I have a few minutes'conversation with you?" asked Carl."Certainly."They left the room together, followed by anuneasy and suspicious glance from Mrs. Crawford.Carl hurriedly communicated to his father'sfriend what he had learned about his stepmother."Mr. Cook, Peter's father, is just outside," he said."Shall I call him in?""I think we had better do so, but arrangethat the interview shall take place withoutyour father's knowledge. He must not be excited.Call him in, and then summon your stepmother.""Mrs. Crawford," said Carl, re-entering hisfather's room, "Mr. Ashcroft would like tohave a few words with you. Can you come out?"She followed Carl uneasily."What is it you want with me, sir?" she asked, frigidly."Let me introduce an old acquaintance of yours."Mr. Cook, whom Mrs. Crawford had not at first observed,came forward. She drew back in dismay."It is some time since we met, Lucy," said Cook, quietly."Do you come here to make trouble?" she muttered, hoarsely."I come to ask for the property you took during my absencein California," he said. "I don't care to have you return to me----""I obtained a divorce.""Precisely; I don't care to annul it. I amthankful that you are no longer my wife.""I--I will see what I can do for you. Don'tgo near my present husband. He is in poorhealth, and cannot bear a shock.""Mrs. Crawford," said Ashcroft, gravely, "if youhave any idea of remaining here, in this house,give it up. I shall see that your husband'seyes are opened to your real character.""Sir, you heard this man say that he has noclaim upon me.""That may be, but I cannot permit my friendto harbor a woman whose record is as bad as yours.""What do you mean?" she demanded, defiantly."I mean that you have served a term inprison for larceny.""It is false," she said, with trembling lips."It is true. I visited the prison during yourterm of confinement, and saw you there.""I, too, can certify to it," said Cook."I learned it two years after my marriage.You will understand why I am glad of the divorce."Mrs. Crawford was silent for a moment. She realizedthat the battle was lost."Well," she said, after a pause, "I am defeated.I thought my secret was safe, but I was mistaken.What do you propose to do with me?""I will tell you this evening," said Ashcroft."One thing I can say now--you must not expectto remain in this house.""I no longer care to do so."A conference was held during the afternoon,Dr Crawford being told as much as wasessential. It was arranged that Mrs. Crawfordshould have an allowance of four hundreddollars for herself and Peter if she would leavethe house quietly, and never again annoy herhusband. Mr. Cook offered to take Peter, butthe latter preferred to remain with his mother.A private arrangement was made by which Dr.Crawford made up to Mr. Cook one-half of thesum stolen from him by his wife, and throughthe influence of Ashcroft, employment wasfound for him. He is no longer a tramp, buta man held in respect, and moderately prosperous.Carl is still in the employ of Mr. Jennings,and his father has removed to Milford, wherehe and his son can live together. NextSeptember, on his twenty-first birthday, Carl willbe admitted to a junior partnership in thebusiness, his father furnishing the necessarycapital. Carl's stepmother is in Chicago, andher allowance is paid to her quarterly througha Chicago bank. She has considerable troublewith Peter, who has become less submissiveas he grows older, and is unwilling to settledown to steady work. His prospects do notlook very bright.Mr. Jennings and Hannah are as muchattached as ever to Carl, and it is quite likely themanufacturer will make him his heir. Happyin the society of his son, Dr. Crawford is likelyto live to a good old age, in spite of his weaknessand tendency to heart disease, for happinessis a great aid to longevity.