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diff --git a/18581-h/18581-h.htm b/18581-h/18581-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f418ca --- /dev/null +++ b/18581-h/18581-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10228 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Adrift in New York, by Horatio Alger</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.MyTitle { + font-size: xx-large; + font-stretch: condensed; + text-align: center; + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +.TpSTitle { + font-size: x-large; + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; +} + +.TpAName { + font-size: large; + text-align: center; +} + +.c { + text-align: center; +} + +.sc { + font-variant: small-caps; +} + +h1 { + font-size: xx-large; + text-align: center; + font-weight: normal; + margin-top: 4ex; + margin-bottom: 0; + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +h2 { + font-size: large; + text-align: center; + font-weight: normal; + margin-top: 1ex; + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +p.note { + margin-right: 2em; + margin-left: 2em; +} + +p.sig { + margin-right: 6em; + margin-left: 2em; + text-align: right; + font-variant: small-caps; +} + +p.theend { + text-align: center; + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +hr.break { + margin-top: 6ex; + margin-bottom: 6ex; + width: 75%; +} + +.lb { + font-size: large; + font-weight: bold; +} + +.l { + font-size: large; +} + +.m { + font-size: medium; +} + +.s { + font-size: small; + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; +} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Adrift in New York, by Horatio Alger</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Adrift in New York<br/> + Tom and Florence Braving the World</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Horatio Alger</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 14, 2006 [eBook #18581]<br /> +[Most recently updated: April 26, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: George Smith</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADRIFT IN NEW YORK ***</div> + +<p class="c"> +<img src="images/alger-spine.png" alt="Spine" /> +<img src="images/alger-cover.png" alt="Adrift in New York Cover" /> +<br /> +<img src="images/alger-illus.png" + alt="Illustration of Who are you? asked Florence in alarm..." /> +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h1>Adrift in New York</h1> + +<p class="c">OR</p> + +<p class="TpSTitle">Tom and Florence Braving the World</p> + +<p class="TpAName">By HORATIO ALGER, JR. +<br /> +<span class="s">Author of “Mark Mason’s Victory,” “Ben +Bruce,” “Bernard Brook’s Adventures,” “A Debt +of Honor,” etc., etc.</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="TpAName">A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS +<br /> +NEW YORK<br /> +<br /> +1900</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p class="MyTitle">ADRIFT IN NEW YORK.</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter I.<br/> +The Missing Heir.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Uncle,</span> you are not looking well +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not well, Florence. I sometimes doubt if I shall ever +be any better.”</p> + +<p>“Surely, uncle, you cannot mean——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my child, I have reason to believe that I am nearing the +end.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot bear to hear you speak so, uncle,” said Florence +Linden, in irrepressible agitation. “You are not an old man. You are +but fifty-four.”</p> + +<p>“True, Florence, but it is not years only that make a man old. Two +great sorrows have embittered my life. First, the death of my dearly +beloved wife, and next, the loss of my boy, Harvey.”</p> + +<p>“It is long since I have heard you refer to my cousin’s +loss. I thought you had become reconciled—no, I do not mean +that,—I thought your regret might be less poignant.”</p> + +<p>“I have not permitted myself to speak of it, but I have never +ceased to think of it day and night.”</p> + +<p>John Linden paused sadly, then resumed:</p> + +<p>“If he had died, I might, as you say, have become reconciled; but +he was abducted at the age of four by a revengeful servant whom I had +discharged from my employment. Heaven knows whether he is living or dead, +but it is impressed upon my mind that he still lives, it may be in misery, +it may be as a criminal, while I, his unhappy father, live on in luxury +which I cannot enjoy, with no one to care for me——”</p> + +<p>Florence Linden sank impulsively on her knees beside her uncle’s +chair.</p> + +<p>“Don’t say that, uncle,” she pleaded. “You know +that I love you, Uncle John.”</p> + +<p>“And I, too, uncle.”</p> + +<p>There was a shade of jealousy in the voice of Curtis Waring as he +entered the library through the open door, and approaching his uncle, +pressed his hand.</p> + +<p>He was a tall, dark-complexioned man, of perhaps thirty-five, with +shifty, black eyes and thin lips, shaded by a dark mustache. It was not a +face to trust.</p> + +<p>Even when he smiled the expression of his face did not soften. Yet he +could moderate his voice so as to express tenderness and sympathy.</p> + +<p>He was the son of an elder sister of Mr. Linden, while Florence was the +daughter of a younger brother.</p> + +<p>Both were orphans, and both formed a part of Mr. Linden’s +household, and owed everything to his bounty.</p> + +<p>Curtis was supposed to be in some business downtown; but he received a +liberal allowance from his uncle, and often drew upon him for outside +assistance.</p> + +<p>As he stood with his uncle’s hand in his, he was necessarily +brought near Florence, who instinctively drew a little away, with a slight +shudder indicating repugnance.</p> + +<p>Slight as it was, Curtis detected it, and his face darkened.</p> + +<p>John Linden looked from one to the other. “Yes,” he said, +“I must not forget that I have a nephew and a niece. You are both +dear to me, but no one can take the place of the boy I have lost.” +</p> + +<p>“But it is so long ago, uncle,” said Curtis. “It must +be fourteen years.”</p> + +<p>“It is fourteen years.”</p> + +<p>“And the boy is long since dead!”</p> + +<p>“No, no!” said John Linden, vehemently. “I do not, I +will not, believe it. He still lives, and I live only in the hope of one +day clasping him in my arms.”</p> + +<p>“That is very improbable, uncle,” said Curtis, in a tone of +annoyance. “There isn’t one chance in a hundred that my cousin +still lives. The grave has closed over him long since. The sooner you make +up your mind to accept the inevitable the better.”</p> + +<p>The drawn features of the old man showed that the words had a depressing +effect upon his mind, but Florence interrupted her cousin with an indignant +protest.</p> + +<p>“How can you speak so, Curtis?” she exclaimed. “Leave +Uncle John the hope that he has so long cherished. I have a presentiment +that Harvey still lives.”</p> + +<p>John Linden’s face brightened up</p> + +<p>“You, too, believe it possible, Florence?” he said, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, uncle. I not only believe it possible, but probable. How old +would Harvey be if he still lived?”</p> + +<p>“Eighteen—nearly a year older than yourself.”</p> + +<p>“How strange! I always think of him as a little boy.”</p> + +<p>“And I, too, Florence. He rises before me in his little velvet +suit, as he was when I last saw him, with his sweet, boyish face, in which +his mother’s looks were reflected.”</p> + +<p>“Yet, if still living,” interrupted Curtis, harshly, +“he is a rough street boy, perchance serving his time at +Blackwell’s Island, and, a hardened young ruffian, whom it would be +bitter mortification to recognize as your son.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the sorrowful part of it,” said his uncle, in +a voice of anguish. “That is what I most dread.”</p> + +<p>“Then, since even if he were living you would not care to +recognize him, why not cease to think of him, or else regard him as +dead?”</p> + +<p>“Curtis Waring, have you no heart?” demanded Florence, +indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, Florence, you ought to know,” said Curtis, sinking +his voice into softly modulated accents.</p> + +<p>“I know nothing of it,” said Florence, coldly, rising from +her recumbent position, and drawing aloof from Curtis.</p> + +<p>“You know that the dearest wish of my heart is to find favor in +your eyes. Uncle, you know my wish, and approve of it, do you +not?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Curtis; you and Florence are equally dear to me, and it is +my hope that you may be united. In that case, there will be no division of +my fortune. It will be left to you jointly.”</p> + +<p>“Believe me, sir,” said Curtis, with faltering voice, +feigning an emotion which he did not feel, “believe me, that I fully +appreciate your goodness. I am sure Florence joins with +me——”</p> + +<p>“Florence can speak for herself,” said his cousin, coldly. +“My uncle needs no assurance from me. He is always kind, and I am +always grateful.”</p> + +<p>John Linden seemed absorbed in thought.</p> + +<p>“I do not doubt your affection,” he said; “and I have +shown it by making you my joint heirs in the event of your marriage; but it +is only fair to say that my property goes to my boy, if he still +lives.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir,” protested Curtis, “is not that +likely to create unnecessary trouble? It can never be known, and +meanwhile——”</p> + +<p>“You and Florence will hold the property in trust.”</p> + +<p>“Have you so specified in your will?” asked Curtis.</p> + +<p>“I have made two wills. Both are in yonder secretary. By the first +the property is bequeathed to you and Florence. By the second and later, it +goes to my lost boy in the event of his recovery. Of course, you and +Florence are not forgotten, but the bulk of the property goes to +Harvey.”</p> + +<p>“I sincerely wish the boy might be restored to you,” said +Curtis; but his tone belied his words. “Believe me, the loss of the +property would affect me little, if you could be made happy by realizing +your warmest desire; but, uncle, I think it only the part of a friend to +point out to you, as I have already done, the baselessness of any such +expectation.”</p> + +<p>“It may be as you say, Curtis,” said his uncle, with a sigh. +“If I were thoroughly convinced of it, I would destroy the later +will, and leave my property absolutely to you and Florence.”</p> + +<p>“No, uncle,” said Florence, impulsively, “make no +change; let the will stand.”</p> + +<p>Curtis, screened from his uncle’s view, darted a glance of bitter +indignation at Florence.</p> + +<p>“Is the girl mad?” he muttered to himself. “Must she +forever balk me?”</p> + +<p>“Let it be so for the present, then,” said Mr. Linden, +wearily. “Curtis, will you ring the bell? I am tired, and shall +retire to my couch early.”</p> + +<p>“Let me help you, Uncle John,” said Florence, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“It is too much for your strength, my child. I am growing more and +more helpless.”</p> + +<p>“I, too, can help,” said Curtis.</p> + +<p>John Linden, supported on either side by his nephew and niece, left the +room, and was assisted to his chamber.</p> + +<p>Curtis and Florence returned to the library.</p> + +<p>“Florence,” said her cousin, “my uncle’s +intentions, as expressed to-night, make it desirable that there should be +an understanding between us. Take a seat beside me”—leading her +to a sofa—“and let us talk this matter over.”</p> + +<p>With a gesture of repulsion Florence declined the proffered seat, and +remained standing.</p> + +<p>“As you please,” she answered, coldly.</p> + +<p>“Will you be seated?”</p> + +<p>“No; our interview will be brief.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will come to the point. Uncle John wishes to see us +united.”</p> + +<p>“It can never be!” said Florence, decidedly.</p> + +<p>Curtis bit his lip in mortification, for her tone was cold and +scornful.</p> + +<p>Mingled with this mortification was genuine regret, for, so far as he +was capable of loving any one, he loved his fair young cousin.</p> + +<p>“You profess to love Uncle John, and yet you would disappoint his +cherished hope!” he returned.</p> + +<p>“Is it his cherished hope?”</p> + +<p>“There is no doubt about it. He has spoken to me more than once on +the subject. Feeling that his end is near, he wishes to leave you in charge +of a protector.”</p> + +<p>“I can protect myself,” said Florence, proudly.</p> + +<p>“You think so. You do not consider the hapless lot of a penniless +girl in a cold and selfish world.”</p> + +<p>“Penniless?” repeated Florence, in an accent of +surprise.</p> + +<p>“Yes, penniless. Our uncle’s bequest to you is conditional +upon your acceptance of my hand.”</p> + +<p>“Has he said this?” asked Florence, sinking into an +armchair, with a helpless look.</p> + +<p>“He has told me so more than once,” returned Curtis, +smoothly. “You don’t know how near to his heart this marriage +is. I know what you would say: If the property comes to me I could come to +your assistance, but I am expressly prohibited from doing so. I have +pleaded with my uncle in your behalf, but in vain.”</p> + +<p>Florence was too clear-sighted not to penetrate his falsehood.</p> + +<p>“If my uncle’s heart is hardened against me,” she +said, “I shall be too wise to turn to you. I am to understand, then, +that my choice lies between poverty and a union with you?”</p> + +<p>“You have stated it correctly, Florence.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Florence, arising, “I will not hesitate. +I shrink from poverty, for I have been reared in luxury, but I will sooner +live in a hovel—”</p> + +<p>“Or a tenement house,” interjected Curtis, with a sneer.</p> + +<p>“Yes, or a tenement house, than become the wife of one I +loathe.”</p> + +<p>“Girl, you shall bitterly repent that word!” said Curtis, +stung to fury.</p> + +<p>She did not reply, but, pale and sorrowful, glided from the room to weep +bitter tears in the seclusion of her chamber.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter II.<br/> +A Stranger Visitor.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Curtis Waring</span> followed the retreating form of +his cousin with a sardonic smile.</p> + +<p>“She is in the toils! She cannot escape me!” he muttered. +“But”—and here his brow darkened—“it vexes me +to see how she repels my advances, as if I were some loathsome thing! If +only she would return my love—for I do love her, cold as she +is—I should be happy. Can there be a rival? But no! we live so +quietly that she has met no one who could win her affection. Why can she +not turn to me? Surely, I am not so ill-favored, and though twice her age, +I am still a young man. Nay, it is only a young girl’s caprice. She +shall yet come to my arms, a willing captive.”</p> + +<p>His thoughts took a turn, as he arose from his seat, and walked over to +the secretary.</p> + +<p>“So it is here that the two wills are deposited!” he said to +himself; “one making me a rich man, the other a beggar! While the +last is in existence I am not safe. The boy may be alive, and liable to +turn up at any moment. If only he were dead—or the will +destroyed——” Here he made a suggestive pause.</p> + +<p>He took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and tried one after another, +but without success. He was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice +the entrance of a dark-browed, broad-shouldered man, dressed in a shabby +corduroy suit, till the intruder indulged in a short cough, intended to +draw attention.</p> + +<p>Starting with guilty consciousness, Curtis turned sharply around, and +his glance fell on the intruder.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” he demanded, angrily. “And how dare you +enter a gentleman’s house unbidden?”</p> + +<p>“Are you the gentleman?” asked the intruder, with +intentional insolence.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“You own this house?”</p> + +<p>“Not at present. It is my uncle’s.”</p> + +<p>“And that secretary—pardon my curiosity—is +his?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but what business is it of yours?”</p> + +<p>“Not much. Only it makes me laugh to see a gentleman picking a +lock. You should leave such business to men like me!”</p> + +<p>“You are an insolent fellow!” said Curtis, more embarrassed +than he liked to confess, for this rough-looking man had become possessed +of a dangerous secret. “I am my uncle’s confidential agent, and +it was on business of his that I wished to open the desk.”</p> + +<p>“Why not go to him for the key?”</p> + +<p>“Because he is sick. But, pshaw! why should I apologize or give +any explanation to you? What can you know of him or me?”</p> + +<p>“More, perhaps, than you suspect,” said the intruder, +quietly.</p> + +<p>“Then, you know, perhaps, that I am my uncle’s +heir?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be too sure of that.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, fellow,” said Curtis, thoroughly provoked, +“I don’t know who you are nor what you mean, but let me inform +you that your presence here is an intrusion, and the sooner you leave the +house the better!”</p> + +<p>“I will leave it when I get ready.”</p> + +<p>Curtis started to his feet, and advanced to his visitor with an air of +menace.</p> + +<p>“Go at once,” he exclaimed, angrily, “or I will kick +you out of the door!”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with the window?” returned the +stranger, with an insolent leer.</p> + +<p>“That’s as you prefer, but if you don’t leave at once +I will eject you.”</p> + +<p>By way of reply, the rough visitor coolly seated himself in a luxurious +easy-chair, and, looking up into the angry face of Waring, said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, you won’t.”</p> + +<p>“And why not, may I ask?” said Curtis, with a feeling of +uneasiness for which he could not account.</p> + +<p>“Why not? Because, in that case, I should seek an interview with +your uncle, and tell him——”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“That his son still lives; and that I can restore him to +his——”</p> + +<p>The face of Curtis Waring blanched; he staggered as if he had been +struck; and he cried out, hoarsely:</p> + +<p>“It is a lie!”</p> + +<p>“It is the truth, begging your pardon. Do you mind my +smoking?” and he coolly produced a common clay pipe, filled and +lighted it.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” asked Curtis, scanning the man’s +features with painful anxiety.</p> + +<p>“Have you forgotten Tim Bolton?”</p> + +<p>“Are you Tim Bolton?” faltered Curtis.</p> + +<p>“Yes; but you don’t seem glad to see me?”</p> + +<p>“I thought you were——”</p> + +<p>“In Australia. So I was three years since. Then I got homesick, +and came back to New York.”</p> + +<p>“You have been here three years?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” chuckled Bolton. “You didn’t suspect it, +did you?”</p> + +<p>“Where?” asked Curtis, in a hollow voice.</p> + +<p>“I keep a saloon on the Bowery. There’s my card. Call around +when convenient.”</p> + +<p>Curtis was about to throw the card into the grate, but on second thought +dropped it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>“And the boy?” he asked, slowly.</p> + +<p>“Is alive and well. He hasn’t been starved. Though I dare +say you wouldn’t have grieved if he had.”</p> + +<p>“And he is actually in this city?”</p> + +<p>“Just so.”</p> + +<p>“Does he know anything of—you know what I mean.”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t know that he is the son of a rich man, and heir +to the property which you look upon as yours. That’s what you mean, +isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. What is he doing? Is he at work?”</p> + +<p>“He helps me some in the saloon, sells papers in the evenings, and +makes himself generally useful.”</p> + +<p>“Has he any education?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I haven’t sent him to boarding school or +college,” answered Tim. “He don’t know no Greek, or +Latin, or mathematics—phew, that’s a hard word. You +didn’t tell me you wanted him made a scholar of.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t. I wanted never to see or hear from him again. +What made you bring him back to New York?”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t keep away, governor. I got homesick, I did. There +ain’t but one Bowery in the world, and I hankered after +that——”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t I pay you money to keep away, Tim Bolton?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t deny it; but what’s three thousand dollars? +Why, the kid’s cost me more than that. I’ve had the care of him +for fourteen years, and it’s only about two hundred a +year.”</p> + +<p>“You have broken your promise to me!” said Curtis, +sternly.</p> + +<p>“There’s worse things than breaking your promise,” +retorted Bolton.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he spoken than a change came over his face, and he stared +open-mouthed behind him and beyond Curtis.</p> + +<p>Startled himself, Curtis turned, and saw, with a feeling akin to dismay, +the tall figure of his uncle standing on the threshold of the left portal, +clad in a morning gown, with his eyes fixed inquiringly upon Bolton and +himself.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter III.<br/> +An Unholy Compact.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Who</span> is that man, Curtis?” asked +John Linden, pointing his thin finger at Tim Bolton, who looked strangely +out of place, as, with clay pipe, he sat in the luxurious library on a +sumptuous chair.</p> + +<p>“That man?” stammered Curtis, quite at a loss what to +say.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“He is a poor man out of luck, who has applied to me for +assistance,” answered Curtis, recovering his wits.</p> + +<p>“That’s it, governor,” said Bolton, thinking it +necessary to confirm the statement. “I’ve got five small +children at home almost starvin’, your honor.”</p> + +<p>“That is sad. What is your business, my man?”</p> + +<p>It was Bolton’s turn to be embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“My business?” he repeated.</p> + +<p>“That is what I said.”</p> + +<p>“I’m a blacksmith, but I’m willing to do any honest +work.”</p> + +<p>“That is commendable; but don’t you know that it is very +ill-bred to smoke a pipe in a gentleman’s house?”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, governor!”</p> + +<p>And Bolton extinguished his pipe, and put it away in a pocket of his +corduroy coat.</p> + +<p>“I was just telling him the same thing,” said Curtis. +“Don’t trouble yourself any further, uncle. I will inquire into +the man’s circumstances, and help him if I can.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, Curtis. I came down because I thought I heard +voices.”</p> + +<p>John Linden slowly returned to his chamber, and left the two alone.</p> + +<p>“The governor’s getting old,” said Bolton. “When +I was butler here, fifteen years ago, he looked like a young man. He +didn’t suspect that he had ever seen me before.”</p> + +<p>“Nor that you had carried away his son, Bolton.”</p> + +<p>“Who hired me to do it? Who put me up to the job, as far as that +goes?”</p> + +<p>“Hush! Walls have ears. Let us return to business.”</p> + +<p>“That suits me.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Tim Bolton,” said Curtis, drawing up a chair, +and lowering his voice to a confidential pitch, “you say you want +money?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t give money for nothing.”</p> + +<p>“I know that. What’s wanted now?”</p> + +<p>“You say the boy is alive?”</p> + +<p>“He’s very much alive.”</p> + +<p>“Is there any necessity for his living?” asked Curtis, in a +sharp, hissing tone, fixing his eyes searchingly on Bolton, to see how his +hint would be taken.</p> + +<p>“You mean that you want me to murder him?” said Bolton, +quickly.</p> + +<p>“Why not? You don’t look over scrupulous.”</p> + +<p>“I am a bad man, I admit it,” said Bolton, with a gesture of +repugnance, “a thief, a low blackguard, perhaps, but, thank Heaven! I +am no murderer! And if I was, I wouldn’t spill a drop of that +boy’s blood for the fortune that is his by right.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t give you credit for so much sentiment, +Bolton,” said Curtis, with a sneer. “You don’t look like +it, but appearances are deceitful. We’ll drop the subject. You can +serve me in another way. Can you open this secretary?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; that’s in my line.”</p> + +<p>“There is a paper in it that I want. It is my uncle’s will. +I have a curiosity to read it.”</p> + +<p>“I understand. Well, I’m agreeable.”</p> + +<p>“If you find any money or valuables, you are welcome to them. I +only want the paper. When will you make the attempt?”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow night. When will it be safe?”</p> + +<p>“At eleven o’clock. We all retire early in this house. Can +you force an entrance?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but it will be better for you to leave the outer door +unlocked.”</p> + +<p>“I have a better plan. Here is my latchkey.”</p> + +<p>“Good! I may not do the job myself, but I will see that it is +done. How shall I know the will?”</p> + +<p>“It is in a big envelope, tied with a narrow tape. Probably it is +inscribed: ‘My will.’ ”</p> + +<p>“Suppose I succeed, when shall I see you?”</p> + +<p>“I will come around to your place on the Bowery. +Good-night!”</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring saw Bolton to the door, and let him out. Returning, he +flung himself on a sofa.</p> + +<p>“I can make that man useful!” he reflected. “There is +an element of danger in the boy’s presence in New York; but it will +go hard if I can’t get rid of him! Tim Bolton is unexpectedly +squeamish, but there are others to whom I can apply. With gold everything +is possible. It’s time matters came to a finish. My uncle’s +health is rapidly failing—the doctor hints that he has heart +disease—and the fortune for which I have been waiting so long will +soon be mine, if I work my cards right. I can’t afford to make any +mistakes now.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter IV.<br/> +Florence.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Florence Linden</span> sat in the library the following +evening in an attitude of depression. Her eyelids were swollen, and it was +evident she had been weeping. During the day she had had an interview with +her uncle, in which he harshly insisted upon her yielding to his wishes, +and marrying her cousin, Curtis.</p> + +<p>“But, uncle,” she objected, “I do not love +him.”</p> + +<p>“Marry him, and love will come.”</p> + +<p>“Never!” she said, vehemently.</p> + +<p>“You speak confidently, miss,” said Mr. Linden, with +irritation.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Uncle John. It is not alone that I do not love him. I +dislike him—I loathe—him.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! that is a young girl’s extravagant +nonsense.”</p> + +<p>“No, uncle.”</p> + +<p>“There can be no reason for such a foolish dislike. What can you +have against him?”</p> + +<p>“It is impressed upon me, uncle, that Curtis is a bad man. There +is something false—treacherous—about him.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! child! you are more foolish than I thought. I don’t +say Curtis is an angel. No man is; at least, I never met any such. But he +is no worse than the generality of men. In marrying him you will carry out +my cherished wish. Florence, I have not long to live. I shall be glad to +see you well established in life before I leave you. As the wife of Curtis +you will have a recognized position. You will go on living in this house, +and the old home will be maintained.”</p> + +<p>“But why is it necessary for me to marry at all, Uncle +John?”</p> + +<p>“You will be sure to marry some one. Should I divide my fortune +between you and Curtis, you would become the prey of some unscrupulous +fortune hunter.”</p> + +<p>“Better that than become the wife of Curtis +Waring——”</p> + +<p>“I see, you are incorrigible,” said her uncle, angrily. +“Do you refuse obedience to my wishes?”</p> + +<p>“Command me in anything else, Uncle John, and I will obey,” +pleaded Florence.</p> + +<p>“Indeed! You only thwart me in my cherished wish, but are willing +to obey me in unimportant matters. You forget the debt you owe +me.”</p> + +<p>“I forget nothing, dear uncle. I do not forget that, when I was a +poor little child, helpless and destitute, you took me in your arms, gave +me a home, and have cared for me from that time to this as only a parent +could.”</p> + +<p>“You remember that, then?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, uncle. I hope you will not consider me wholly +ungrateful.”</p> + +<p>“It only makes matters worse. You own your obligations, yet refuse +to make the only return I desire. You refuse to comfort me in the closing +days of my life by marrying your cousin.”</p> + +<p>“Because that so nearly concerns my happiness that no one has a +right to ask me to sacrifice all I hold dear.”</p> + +<p>“I see you are incorrigible,” said John Linden, stormily. +“Do you know what will be the consequences?”</p> + +<p>“I am prepared for all.”</p> + +<p>“Then listen! If you persist in balking me, I shall leave the +entire estate to Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“Do with your money as you will, uncle. I have no claim to more +than I have received.”</p> + +<p>“You are right there; but that is not all.”</p> + +<p>Florence fixed upon him a mute look of inquiry.</p> + +<p>“I will give you twenty-four hours more to come to your senses. +Then, if you persist in your ingratitude and disobedience, you must find +another home.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, uncle, you do not mean that?” exclaimed Florence, +deeply moved.</p> + +<p>“I do mean it, and I shall not allow your tears to move me. Not +another word, for I will not hear it. Take twenty-four hours to think over +what I have said.”</p> + +<p>Florence bowed her head on her hands, and gave herself up to sorrowful +thoughts. But she was interrupted by the entrance of the servant, who +announced:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Percy de Brabazon.”</p> + +<p>An effeminate-looking young man, foppishly dressed, followed the servant +into the room, and made it impossible for Florence to deny herself, as she +wished to do.</p> + +<p>“I hope I see you well, Miss Florence,” he simpered.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. de Brabazon,” said Florence, coldly. +“I have a slight headache.”</p> + +<p>“I am awfully sorry, I am, upon my word, Miss Florence. My doctor +tells me it is only those whose bwains are vewy active that are troubled +with headaches.”</p> + +<p>“Then, I presume, Mr. de Brabazon,” said Florence, with +intentional sarcasm, “that you never have a headache.”</p> + +<p>“Weally, Miss Florence, that is vewy clevah. You will have your +joke.”</p> + +<p>“It was no joke, I assure you, Mr. de Brabazon.”</p> + +<p>“I—I thought it might be. Didn’t I see you at the +opewa last evening?”</p> + +<p>“Possibly. I was there.”</p> + +<p>“I often go to the opewa. It’s so—so fashionable, +don’t you know?”</p> + +<p>“Then you don’t go to hear the music?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, but one can’t always be listening to the +music, don’t you know. I had a fwiend with me last evening—an +Englishman—a charming fellow, I assure you. He’s the second +cousin of a lord, and yet—you’ll hardly credit +it—we’re weally vewy intimate. He tells me, Miss Florence, that +I’m the perfect image of his cousin, Lord Fitz Noodle.”</p> + +<p>“I am not at all surprised.”</p> + +<p>“Weally, you are vewy kind, Miss Florence. I thought it a great +compliment. I don’t know how it is, but evewybody takes me for an +Englishman. Strange, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“I am very glad.”</p> + +<p>“May I ask why, Miss Florence?”</p> + +<p>“Because—— Well, perhaps I had better not explain. It +seems to give you pleasure. You would, probably, prefer to be an +Englishman.”</p> + +<p>“I admit that I have a great admiration for the English character. +It’s a gweat pity we have no lords in America. Now, if you would only +allow me to bring my English fwiend here——</p> + +<p>“I don’t care to make any new acquaintances. Even if I did, +I prefer my own countrymen. Don’t you like America, Mr. de +Brabazon?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of courth, if we only had some lords here.”</p> + +<p>“We have plenty of flunkeys.”</p> + +<p>“That’s awfully clevah, ’pon my word.”</p> + +<p>“Is it? I am afraid you are too complimentary. You are very +good-natured.”</p> + +<p>“I always feel good-natured in your company, Miss Florence. +I—wish I could always be with you.”</p> + +<p>“Really! Wouldn’t that be a trifle monotonous?” asked +Florence, sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“Not if we were married,” said Percy, boldly breaking the +ice.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Mr. de Brabazon?”</p> + +<p>“I hope you will excuse me, Miss Florence—Miss Linden, I +mean; but I’m awfully in love with you, and have been ever so +long—but I never dared to tell you so. I felt so nervous, don’t +you know? Will you marry me? I’ll be awfully obliged if you +will.”</p> + +<p>Mr. de Brabazon rather awkwardly slipped from his chair, and sank on one +knee before Florence.</p> + +<p>“Please arise, Mr. de Brabazon,” said Florence, hurriedly. +“It is quite out of the question—what you ask—I assure +you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! I see how it is,” said Percy, clasping his hands sadly. +“You love another.”</p> + +<p>“Not that I am aware of.”</p> + +<p>“Then I may still hope?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot encourage you, Mr. de Brabazon. My heart is free, but it +can never be yours.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Percy, gloomily, “there is only one thing +for me to do.”</p> + +<p>“What is that?”</p> + +<p>“I shall go to the Bwooklyn Bwidge, climb to the parapet, jump +into the water, and end my misewable life.”</p> + +<p>“You had better think twice before adopting such a desperate +resolution, Mr. de Brabazon. You will meet others who will be kinder to you +than I have been——”</p> + +<p>“I can never love another. My heart is broken. Farewell, cruel +girl. When you read the papers tomorrow morning, think of the unhappy Percy +de Brabazon!”</p> + +<p>Mr. de Brabazon folded his arms gloomily, and stalked out of the +room.</p> + +<p>“If my position were not so sad, I should be tempted to +smile,” said Florence. “Mr. de Brabazon will not do this thing. +His emotions are as strong as those of a butterfly.”</p> + +<p>After a brief pause Florence seated herself at the table, and drew +toward her writing materials.</p> + +<p>“It is I whose heart should be broken!” she murmured; +“I who am driven from the only home I have ever known. What can have +turned against me my uncle, usually so kind and considerate? It must be +that Curtis has exerted a baneful influence upon him. I cannot leave him +without one word of farewell.”</p> + +<p>She took up a sheet of paper, and wrote, rapidly:</p> + +<p class="note">“<span class="sc">Dear Uncle:</span> You have told me +to leave your house, and I obey. I cannot tell you how sad I feel, when I +reflect that I have lost your love, and must go forth among +strangers—I know not where. I was but a little girl when you gave me +a home. I have grown up in an atmosphere of love, and I have felt very +grateful to you for all you have done for me. I have tried to conform to +your wishes, and I would obey you in all else—but I cannot marry +Curtis; I think I would rather die. Let me still live with you as I have +done. I do not care for any part of your money—leave it all to him, +if you think best—but give me back my place in your heart. You are +angry now, but you will some time pity and forgive your poor Florence, +who will never cease to bless and pray for you. Good-bye!</p> + +<p class="sig">“Florence.”</p> + +<p>She was about to sign herself Florence Linden, but reflected that she +was no longer entitled to use a name which would seem to carry with it a +claim upon her uncle.</p> + +<p>The tears fell upon the paper as she was writing, but she heeded them +not. It was the saddest hour of her life. Hitherto she had been shielded +from all sorrow, and secure in the affection of her uncle, had never +dreamed that there would come a time when she would feel obliged to leave +all behind her, and go out into the world, friendless and penniless, but +poorest of all in the loss of that love which she had hitherto enjoyed.</p> + +<p>After completing the note, Florence let her head fall upon the table, +and sobbed herself to sleep.</p> + +<p>An hour and a half passed, the servant looked in, but noticing that her +mistress was sleeping, contented herself with lowering the gas, but +refrained from waking her.</p> + +<p>And so she slept on till the French clock upon the mantle struck +eleven.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later and the door of the room slowly opened, and a boy +entered on tiptoe. He was roughly dressed. His figure was manly and +vigorous, and despite his stealthy step and suspicious movements his face +was prepossessing.</p> + +<p>He started when he saw Florence.</p> + +<p>“What, a sleeping gal!” he said to himself. “Tim told +me I’d find the coast clear, but I guess she’s sound asleep, +and won’t hear nothing. I don’t half like this job, but +I’ve got to do as Tim told me. He says he’s my father, so I +s’pose it’s all right. All the same, I shall be nabbed some +day, and then the family’ll be disgraced. It’s a queer life +I’ve led ever since I can remember. Sometimes I feel like leaving +Tim, and settin’ up for myself. I wonder how ’twould seem to be +respectable.”</p> + +<p>The boy approached the secretary, and with some tools he had brought +essayed to open it. After a brief delay he succeeded, and lifted the cover. +He was about to explore it, according to Tim’s directions, when he +heard a cry of fear, and turning swiftly saw Florence, her eyes dilated +with terror, gazing at him.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” she asked in alarm, “and what are you +doing there?”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter V.<br/> +Dodger.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">The</span> boy sprang to the side of Florence, and +siezed her wrists in his strong young grasp.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you alarm the house,” he said, “or +I’ll——”</p> + +<p>“What will you do?” gasped Florence, in alarm. The boy was +evidently softened by her beauty, and answered in a tone of hesitation:</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I won’t harm you if you keep +quiet.”</p> + +<p>“What are you here for?” asked Florence, fixing her eyes on +the boy’s face; “are you a thief?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know—yes, I suppose I am.”</p> + +<p>“How sad, when you are so young.”</p> + +<p>“What! miss, do you pity me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my poor boy, you must be very poor, or you wouldn’t +bring yourself to steal.”</p> + +<p>“No. I ain’t poor; leastways, I have enough to eat, and I +have a place to sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Then why don’t you earn your living by honest +means?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t; I must obey orders.”</p> + +<p>“Whose orders?”</p> + +<p>“Why, the guv’nor’s, to be sure.”</p> + +<p>“Did he tell you to open that secretary?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Who is the guv’nor, as you call him?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell; it wouldn’t be square.”</p> + +<p>“He must be a very wicked man.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he ain’t exactly what you call an angel, but +I’ve seen wuss men than the guv’nor.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mind telling me your own name?”</p> + +<p>“No; for I know you won’t peach on me. Tom +Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“Dodger?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“That isn’t a surname.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all I’ve got. That’s what I’m always +called.”</p> + +<p>“It is very singular,” said Florence, fixing a glance of +mingled curiosity and perplexity upon the young visitor.</p> + +<p>While the two were earnestly conversing in that subdued light, afforded +by the lowered gaslight, Tim Bolton crept in through the door unobserved by +either, tiptoed across the room to the secretary, snatched the will and a +roll of bills, and escaped without attracting attention.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I wish I could persuade you to give up this bad life,” +resumed Florence, earnestly, “and become honest.”</p> + +<p>“Do you really care what becomes of me, miss?” asked Dodger, +slowly.</p> + +<p>“I do, indeed.”</p> + +<p>“That’s very kind of you, miss; but I don’t understand +it. You are a rich young lady, and I’m only a poor boy, livin’ +in a Bowery dive.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, miss, such as you wouldn’t understand. Why, all +my life I’ve lived with thieves, and drunkards, and bunco men, +and——”</p> + +<p>“But I’m sure you don’t like it. You are fit for +something better.”</p> + +<p>“Do you really think so?” asked Dodger, doubtfullly.</p> + +<p>“Yes; you have a good face. You were meant to be good and honest, +I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“Would you trust me?” asked the boy, earnestly, fixing his +large, dark eyes eloquently on the face of Florence.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I would if you would only leave your evil companions, and +become true to your better nature.”</p> + +<p>“No one ever spoke to me like that before, miss,” said +Dodger, his expressive features showing that he was strongly moved. +“You think I could be good if I tried hard, and grow up +respectable?”</p> + +<p>“I am sure you could,” said Florence, confidently.</p> + +<p>There was something in this boy, young outlaw though he was, that moved +her powerfully, and even fascinated her, though she hardly realized it. It +was something more than a feeling of compassion for a wayward and misguided +youth.</p> + +<p>“I could if I was rich like you, and lived in a nice house, and +’sociated with swells. If you had a father like +mine——”</p> + +<p>“Is he a bad man?”</p> + +<p>“Well, he don’t belong to the church. He keeps a gin mill, +and has ever since I was a kid.”</p> + +<p>“Have you always lived with him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but not in New York.”</p> + +<p>“Where then?”</p> + +<p>“In Melbourne.”</p> + +<p>“That’s in Australia.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, miss.”</p> + +<p>“How long since you came to New York?”</p> + +<p>“I guess it’s about three years.”</p> + +<p>“And you have always had this man as a guardian? Poor +boy!”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got a different father from me, miss?”</p> + +<p>Tears forced themselves to the eyes of Florence, as this remark brought +forcibly to her mind the position in which she was placed.</p> + +<p>“Alas!” she answered, impulsively, “I am alone in the +world!”</p> + +<p>“What! ain’t the old gentleman that lives here your +father?”</p> + +<p>“He is my uncle; but he is very, very angry with me, and has this +very day ordered me to leave the house.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what a cantankerous old ruffian he is, to be sure!” +exclaimed the boy, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Hush! you must not talk against my uncle. He has always been kind +to me till now.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s up? What’s the old gentleman mad +about?”</p> + +<p>“He wants me to marry my cousin Curtis—a man I do not even +like.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a shame! Is it the dude I saw come out of the house +a little while ago?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; that’s a different gentleman. It’s Mr. de +Brabazon.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t want to marry him, do you?”</p> + +<p>“No, no!”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad of that. He don’t look as if he knew enough +to come in when it rained.”</p> + +<p>“The poor young man is not very brilliant, but I think I would +rather marry him than Curtis Waring.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen him, too. He’s got dark hair and a dark +complexion, and a wicked look in his eye.”</p> + +<p>“You, too, have noticed that?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen such as him before. He’s a bad +man.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know anything about him?” asked Florence, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Only his looks.”</p> + +<p>“I am not deceived,” murmured Florence, “it’s +not wholly prejudice. The boy distrusts him, too. So you see, +Dodger,” she added, aloud, “I am not a rich young lady, as you +suppose. I must leave this house, and work for my living. I have no home +any more.”</p> + +<p>“If you have no home,” said Dodger, impulsively, “come +home with me.”</p> + +<p>“To the home you have described, my poor boy? How could I do +that?”</p> + +<p>“No; I will hire a room for you in a quiet street, and you shall +be my sister. I will work for you, and give you my money.”</p> + +<p>“You are kind, and I am glad to think I have found a friend when I +need one most. But I could not accept stolen money. It would be as bad as +if I, too, were a thief.”</p> + +<p>“I am not a thief! That is, I won’t be any more.”</p> + +<p>“And you will give up your plan of robbing my uncle?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will; though I don’t know what my guv’nor will +say. He’ll half murder me, I expect. He’ll be sure to cut up +rough.”</p> + +<p>“Do right, Dodger, whatever happens. Promise me that you will +never steal again?”</p> + +<p>“There’s my hand, miss—I promise. Nobody ever talked +to me like you. I never thought much about bein’ respectable, and +growin’ up to be somebody, but if you take an interest in me, +I’ll try hard to do right.”</p> + +<p>At this moment, Mr. Linden, clad in a long morning gown, and holding a +candle in his hand, entered the room, and started in astonishment when he +saw Florence clasping the hand of one whose appearance led him to stamp as +a young rough.</p> + +<p>“Shameless girl!” he exclaimed, in stern reproof. “So +this is the company you keep when you think I am out of the way!”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter VI.<br/> +A Tempest.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">The</span> charge was so strange and unexpected that +Florence was overwhelmed. She could only murmur:</p> + +<p>“Oh, uncle!”</p> + +<p>Her young companion was indignant. Already he felt that Florence had +consented to accept him as a friend, and he was resolved to stand by +her.</p> + +<p>“I say, old man,” he bristled up, “don’t you go +to insult her! She’s an angel!”</p> + +<p>“No doubt you think so,” rejoined Mr. Linden, in a tone of +sarcasm. “Upon my word, miss, I congratulate you on your elevated +taste. So this is your reason for not being willing to marry your Cousin +Curtis?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, uncle, you are mistaken. I never met this boy till +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t try to deceive me. Young man, did you open my +secretary?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And robbed it into the bargain,” continued Linden, going to +the secretary, and examining it. He did not, however, miss the will, but +only the roll of bills. “Give me back the money you have taken from +me, you young rascal!”</p> + +<p>“I took nothing, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a lie! The money is gone, and no one else could have +taken it.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t allow no one to call me a liar. Just take that +back, old man, or I——”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, uncle, he took nothing, for he had only just opened the +secretary when I woke up and spoke to him.”</p> + +<p>“You stand by him, of course, shameless girl! I blush to think +that you are my niece. I am glad to think that my eyes are opened before it +is too late.”</p> + +<p>The old merchant rang the bell violently, and aroused the house. Dodger +made no attempt to escape, but stood beside Florence in the attitude of a +protector. But a short time elapsed before Curtis Waring and the servants +entered the room, and gazed with wonder at the <i>tableau</i> presented by +the excited old man and the two young people.</p> + +<p>“My friends,” said John Linden, in a tone of excitement, +“I call you to witness that this girl, whom I blush to acknowledge as +my niece, has proved herself unworthy of my kindness. In your presence I +cut her off, and bid her never again darken my door.”</p> + +<p>“But what has she done, uncle?” asked Curtis. He was +prepared for the presence of Dodger, whom he rightly concluded to be the +agent of Tim Bolton, but he could not understand why Florence should be in +the library at this late hour. Nor was he able to understand the evidently +friendly relations between her and the young visitor.</p> + +<p>“What has she done?” repeated John Linden. “She has +introduced that young ruffian into the house to rob me. Look at that +secretary! He has forced it open, and stolen a large sum of +money.”</p> + +<p>“It is not true, sir,” said Dodger, calmly, “about +taking the money, I mean. I haven’t taken a cent.”</p> + +<p>“Then why did you open the secretary?”</p> + +<p>“I did mean to take money, but she stopped me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she stopped you?” repeated Linden, with withering +sarcasm. “Then, perhaps, you will tell me where the money is +gone?”</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t discovered about the will,” thought Curtis, +congratulating himself; “if the boy has it, I must manage to give him +a chance to escape.”</p> + +<p>“You can search me if you want to,” continued Dodger, +proudly. “You won’t find no money on me.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I am a fool, you young burglar?” exclaimed +John Linden, angrily.</p> + +<p>“Uncle, let me speak to the boy,” said Curtis, soothingly. +“I think he will tell me.”</p> + +<p>“As you like, Curtis; but I am convinced that he is a +thief.”</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring beckoned Dodger into an adjoining room.</p> + +<p>“Now, my boy,” he said, smoothly, “give me what you +took from the secretary, and I will see that you are not +arrested.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir, I didn’t take nothing—it’s just as I +told the old duffer. The girl waked up just as I’d got the secretary +open, and I didn’t have a chance.”</p> + +<p>“But the money is gone,” said Curtis, in an incredulous +tone.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know nothing about that.”</p> + +<p>“Come, you’d better examine your pockets. In the hurry of +the moment you may have taken it without knowing it.”</p> + +<p>“No, I couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you take a paper of any kind?” asked Curtis, +eagerly. “Sometimes papers are of more value than money.”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t take no paper, though Tim told me +to.”</p> + +<p>Curtis quietly ignored the allusion to Tim, for it did not suit his +purpose to get Tim into trouble. His unscrupulous agent knew too much that +would compromise his principal.</p> + +<p>“Are you willing that I should examine you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am. Go ahead.”</p> + +<p>Curtis thrust his hand into the pockets of the boy, who, boy as he was, +was as tall as himself, but was not repaid by the discovery of anything. He +was very much perplexed.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you throw the articles on the floor?” he +demanded, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t give them to the young lady?”</p> + +<p>“No; if I had she’d have said so.”</p> + +<p>“Humph! this is strange. What is your name?”</p> + +<p>“Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a queer name; have you no other?”</p> + +<p>“Not as I know of.”</p> + +<p>“With whom do you live?”</p> + +<p>“With my father. Leastways, he says he’s my +father.”</p> + +<p>There was a growing suspicion in the mind of Curtis Waring. He scanned +the boy’s features with attention. Could this ill-dressed boy—a +street boy in appearance—be his long-lost and deeply wronged +cousin?</p> + +<p>“Who is it that says he is your father?” he demanded, +abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to get him into trouble?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t want to get him into trouble, or you either. +Better tell me all, and I will be your friend.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a better sort than I thought at first,” said +Dodger. “The man I live with is called Tim Bolton.”</p> + +<p>“I though so,” quickly ejaculated Curtis. He had scarcely +got out the words before he was sensible that he had made a mistake.</p> + +<p>“What! do you know Tim?” inquired Dodger, in surprise.</p> + +<p>“I mean,” replied Curtis, lamely, “that I have heard +of this man Bolton. He keeps a saloon on the Bowery, doesn’t +he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I thought you would be living with some such man. Did he come to +the house with you tonight?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Where is he?”</p> + +<p>“He stayed outside.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he is there now.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you go to having him arrested,” said Dodger, +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“I will keep my promise. Are you sure you didn’t pass out +the paper and the money to him? Think now.”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t. I didn’t have a chance. When I came +into the room yonder I saw the gal asleep, and I thought she wouldn’t +hear me, but when I got the desk open she spoke to me, and asked me what I +was doin’.”</p> + +<p>“And you took nothing?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“It seems very strange. I cannot understand it. Yet my uncle says +the money is gone. Did anyone else enter the room while you were talking +with Miss Linden?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t see any one.”</p> + +<p>“What were you talking about?”</p> + +<p>“She said the old man wanted her to marry you, and she +didn’t want to.”</p> + +<p>“She told you that?” exclaimed Curtis, in displeasure.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she did. She said she’d rather marry the dude that was +here early this evenin’.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. de Brabazon!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s the name.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, she was very confidential. You are a queer person +for her to select as a confidant.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe so, sir; but she knows I’m her friend.”</p> + +<p>“You like the young lady, then? Perhaps you would like to marry +her yourself?”</p> + +<p>“As if she’d take any notice of a poor boy like me. I told +her if her uncle sent her away, I’d take care of her and be a brother +to her.”</p> + +<p>“How would Mr. Tim Bolton—that’s his name, isn’t +it?—like that?”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t take her to where he lives.”</p> + +<p>“I think, myself, it would hardly be a suitable home for a young +lady brought up on Madison Avenue. There is certainly no accounting for +tastes. Miss Florence——”</p> + +<p>“That’s her name, is it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; didn’t she tell you?”</p> + +<p>“No; but it’s a nice name.”</p> + +<p>“She declines my hand, and accepts your protection. It will +certainly be a proud distinction to become Mrs. Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t laugh at her!” said Dodger, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“I don’t propose to. But I think we may as well return to +the library.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Linden, as his nephew returned with +Dodger.</p> + +<p>“I have examined the boy, and found nothing on his person,” +said Curtis; “I confess I am puzzled. He appears to have a high +admiration for Florence——”</p> + +<p>“As I supposed.”</p> + +<p>“She has even confided to him her dislike for me, and he has +offered her his protection.”</p> + +<p>“Is this so, miss?” demanded Mr. Linden, sternly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, uncle,” faltered Florence.</p> + +<p>“Then you can join the young person you have selected whenever you +please. For your sake I will not have him arrested for attempted burglary. +He is welcome to what he has taken, since he is likely to marry into the +family. You may stay here to-night, and he can call for you in the +morning.”</p> + +<p>John Linden closed the secretary, and left the room, leaving Florence +sobbing. The servants, too, retired, and Curtis was left alone with +her.</p> + +<p>“Florence,” he said, “accept my hand, and I will +reconcile my uncle to you. Say but the word, and——”</p> + +<p>“I can never speak it, Curtis! I will take my uncle at his word. +Dodger, call for me to-morrow at eight, and I will accept your friendly +services in finding me a new home.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be on hand, miss. Good-night!”</p> + +<p>“Be it so, obstinate girl!” said Curtis, angrily. “The +time will come when you will bitterly repent your mad decision.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter VII.<br/> +Florence Leaves Home.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Florence</span> passed a sleepless night. It had come +upon her so suddenly, this expulsion from the home of her childhood, that +she could not fully realize it. She could not feel that she was taking her +last look at the familiar room, and well-remembered dining-room, where she +had sat down for the last time for breakfast. She was alone at the +breakfast table, for the usual hour was half-past eight, and she had +appointed Dodger to call for her at eight.</p> + +<p>“Is it true, Miss Florence, that you’re going away?” +asked Jane, the warm-hearted table girl, as she waited upon Florence.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jane,” answered Florence, sadly.</p> + +<p>“It’s a shame, so it is! I didn’t think your uncle +would be so hard-hearted.”</p> + +<p>“He is disappointed because I won’t marry my Cousin +Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you for it, miss. I never liked Mr. Waring. +He isn’t half good enough for you.”</p> + +<p>“I say nothing about that, Jane; but I will not marry a man I do +not love.”</p> + +<p>“Nor would I, miss. Where are you going, if I may make so +bold?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, Jane,” said Florence, despondently.</p> + +<p>“But you can’t walk about the streets.”</p> + +<p>“A trusty friend is going to call for me at eight o’clock; +when he comes admit him.”</p> + +<p>“It is a—a young gentleman?”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t call him such. He is a boy, a poor boy; but I +think he is a true friend. He says he will find me a comfortable room +somewhere, where I can settle down and look for work.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to work for a living, Miss Florence?” asked +Jane, horrified.</p> + +<p>“I must, Jane.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a great shame—you, a lady born.”</p> + +<p>“No, Jane, I do not look upon it in that light. I shall be happier +for having my mind and my hands occupied.”</p> + +<p>“What work will you do?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know yet. Dodger will advise me.”</p> + +<p>“Who, miss?”</p> + +<p>“Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“Who is he?”</p> + +<p>“It’s the boy I spoke of.”</p> + +<p>“Shure, he’s got a quare name.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but names don’t count for much. It’s the heart I +think of, and this boy has a kind heart.”</p> + +<p>“Have you known him long?”</p> + +<p>“I saw him yesterday for the first time.”</p> + +<p>“Is it the young fellow who was here last night?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“He isn’t fit company for the likes of you, Miss +Florence.”</p> + +<p>“You forget, Jane, that I am no longer a rich young lady. I am +poorer than even you. This Dodger is kind, and I feel that I can trust +him.”</p> + +<p>“If you are poor, Miss Florence,” said Jane, hesitatingly, +“would you mind borrowing some money of me? I’ve got ten +dollars upstairs in my trunk, and I don’t need it at all. It’s +proud I’ll be to lend it to you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Jane,” said Florence, gratefully. “I +thought I had but one friend. I find I have two——”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll take the money? I’ll go right up and get +it.”</p> + +<p>“No, Jane; not at present. I have twenty dollars in my purse, and +it will last me till I can earn more.”</p> + +<p>“But, miss, twenty dollars will soon go,” said Jane, +disappointed.</p> + +<p>“If I find that I need the sum you so kindly offer me, I will let +you know, I promise that.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, miss.”</p> + +<p>At this point a bell rang from above.</p> + +<p>“It’s from Mr. Curtis’ room,” said Jane.</p> + +<p>“Go and see what he wants.”</p> + +<p>Jane returned in a brief time with a note in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Curtis asked me if you were still here,” she explained, +“and when I told him you were he asked me to give you +this.”</p> + +<p>Florence took the note, and, opening it, read these lines:</p> + +<p class="note">“<span class="sc">Florence</span>: Now that you have +had time to think over your plan of leaving your old home, I hope you have +come to see how foolish it is. Reflect that, if carried out, a life of +poverty and squalid wretchedness amid homely and uncongenial surroundings +awaits you; while, as my wife, you will live a life of luxury and high +social position. There are many young ladies who would be glad to accept +the chance which you so recklessly reject. By accepting my hand you will +gratify our excellent uncle, and make me the happiest of mortals. You +will acquit me of mercenary motives, since you are now penniless, and +your disobedience leaves me sole heir to Uncle John. I love you, and it +will be my chief object, if you will permit it, to make you happy.</p> + +<p class="sig">“Curtis Waring.”</p> + +<p>Florence ran her eyes rapidly over this note, but her heart did not +respond, and her resolution was not shaken.</p> + +<p>“Tell Mr. Waring there is no answer, Jane, if he inquires,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Was he tryin’ to wheedle you into marryin’ him?” +asked Jane.</p> + +<p>“He wished me to change my decision.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you’ve given him the bounce,” said +Jane, whose expressions were not always refined. “I wouldn’t +marry him myself.”</p> + +<p>Florence smiled. Jane was red haired, and her nose was what is +euphemistically called <i>retroussé</i>. Even in her own circles +she was not regarded as beautiful, and was hardly likely to lead a rich +man to overlook her humble station, and sue for her hand.</p> + +<p>“Then, Jane, you at least will not blame me for refusing my +cousin’s hand?”</p> + +<p>“That I won’t, miss. Do you know, Miss +Florence”—and here Jane lowered her +voice—“I’ve a suspicion that Mr. Curtis is married +already?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Jane?” asked Florence, startled.</p> + +<p>“There was a poor young woman called here last month and inquired +for Mr. Curtis. She was very sorrowful-like, and poorly dressed. He came up +when she was at the door, and he spoke harshlike, and told her to walk away +with him. What they said I couldn’t hear, but I’ve a suspicion +that she was married to him, secretlike for I saw a wedding ring upon her +finger.”</p> + +<p>“But, Jane, it would be base and infamous for him to ask for my +hand when he was already married.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t help it, miss. That’s just what he +wouldn’t mind doin’. Oh, he’s a sly deceiver, Mr. Curtis. +I’d like to see him foolin’ around me.”</p> + +<p>Jane nodded her head with emphasis, as if to intimate the kind of +reception Curtis Waring would get if he attempted to trifle with her virgin +affections.</p> + +<p>“I hope what you suspect is not true,” said Florence, +gravely. “I do not like or respect Curtis, but I don’t like to +think he would be so base as that. If you ever see this young woman again, +try to find out where she lives. I would like to make her acquaintance, and +be a friend to her if she needs one.”</p> + +<p>“Shure, Miss Florence, you will be needin’ a friend +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“It is true, Jane. I forgot that I am no longer a young lady of +fortune, but a penniless girl, obliged to work for a living.”</p> + +<p>“What would your uncle say if he knew that Mr. Curtis had a +wife?”</p> + +<p>“We don’t know that he has one, and till we do, it would not +be honorable to intimate such a thing to Uncle John.”</p> + +<p>“Shure, he wouldn’t be particular. It’s all his fault +that you’re obliged to leave home, and go into the streets. Why +couldn’t he take no for an answer, and marry somebody else, if he can +find anybody to have him?”</p> + +<p>“I wish, indeed, that he had fixed his affections +elsewhere,” responded Florence, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>“Shure, he’s twice as old as you, Miss Florence, +anyway.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t mind that so much, if that was the only +objection.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll be a great deal better marryin’ a young +man.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care to marry any one, Jane. I don’t think I +shall ever marry.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all very well to say that, Miss Florence. Lots of +girls say so, but they change their minds. I don’t mean to live out +always myself.”</p> + +<p>“Is there any young man you are interested in, Jane?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe there is, and maybe there isn’t, Miss Florence. If I +ever do get married I’ll invite you to the wedding.”</p> + +<p>“And I’ll promise to come if I can. But I hear the bell. I +think my friend Dodger has come.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I ask him in, miss?”</p> + +<p>“No. Tell him I will be ready to accompany him at once.”</p> + +<p>She went out into the hall, and when the door was opened the visitor +proved to be Dodger. He had improved his appearance so far as his limited +means would allow. His hands and face were thoroughly clean; he had bought +a new collar and necktie; his shoes were polished, and despite his shabby +suit, he looked quite respectable. Getting a full view of him, Florence saw +that his face was frank and handsome, his eyes bright, and his teeth like +pearls.</p> + +<p>“Shure, he’s a great deal better lookin’ than Mr. +Curtis,” whispered Jane. “Here, Mr. Dodger, take Miss +Florence’s valise, and mind you take good care of her.”</p> + +<p>“I will,” answered Dodger, heartily. “Come, Miss +Florence, if you don’t mind walking over to Fourth Avenue, +we’ll take the horse cars.”</p> + +<p>So, under strange guidance, Florence Linden left her luxurious home, +knowing not what awaited her. What haven of refuge she might find she knew +not. She, like Dodger, was adrift in New York.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter VIII.<br/> +A Friendly Compact.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Florence</span>, as she stepped on the sidewalk, +turned, and fixed a last sad look on the house that had been her home for +so many years. She had never anticipated such a sundering of home ties, and +even now she found it difficult to realize that the moment had come when +her life was to be rent in twain, and the sunlight of prosperity was to be +darkened and obscured by a gloomy and uncertain future.</p> + +<p>She had hastily packed a few indispensable articles in a valise which +she carried in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Let me take your bag, Miss Florence,” said Dodger, reaching +out his hand.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to trouble you, Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“It ain’t no trouble, Miss Florence. I’m stronger than +you, and it looks better for me to carry it.”</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, Dodger. What would I do without +you?”</p> + +<p>“There’s plenty that would be glad of the chance of helping +you,” said Dodger, with a glance of admiration at the fair face of +his companion.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know where to find them,” said Florence, +sadly. “Even my uncle has turned against me.”</p> + +<p>“He’s an old chump!” ejaculated Dodger, in a tone of +disgust.</p> + +<p>“Hush! I cannot hear a word against him. He has always been kind +and considerate till now. It is the evil influence of my Cousin Curtis that +has turned him against me. When he comes to himself I am sure he will +regret his cruelty.”</p> + +<p>“He would take you back if you would marry your cousin.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but that I will never do!” exclaimed Florence, with +energy.</p> + +<p>“Bully for you!” said Dodger. “Excuse me,” he +said, apologetically. “I ain’t used to talkin’ to young +ladies, and perhaps that ain’t proper for me to say.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind, Dodger; your heart is in the right +place.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Miss Florence. I’m glad you’ve got +confidence in me. I’ll try to deserve it.”</p> + +<p>“Where are we going?” asked the young lady, whose only +thought up to this moment had been to get away from the presence of Curtis +and his persecutions.</p> + +<p>They had now reached Fourth Avenue, and a surface car was close at +hand.</p> + +<p>“We’re going to get aboard that car,” said Dodger, +signaling with his free hand. “I’ll tell you more when +we’re inside.”</p> + +<p>Florence entered the car, and Dodger, following, took a seat at her +side.</p> + +<p>They presented a noticeable contrast, for Florence was dressed as +beseemed her station, while Dodger, in spite of his manly, attractive face, +was roughly attired, and looked like a working boy.</p> + +<p>When the conductor came along, he drew out a dime, and tendered it in +payment of the double fare. The money was in the conductor’s hand +before Florence was fully aware.</p> + +<p>“You must not pay for me, Dodger,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” asked the boy. “Ain’t we +friends?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but you have no money to spare. Here, let me return the +money.”</p> + +<p>And she offered him a dime from her own purse.</p> + +<p>“You can pay next time, Miss Florence. It’s all right. Now, +I’ll tell you where we are goin’. A friend of mine, Mrs. +O’Keefe, has a lodgin’ house, just off the Bowery. I saw her +last night, and she says she’s got a good room that she can give you +for two dollars a week—I don’t know how much you’d be +willing to pay, but——”</p> + +<p>“I can pay that for a time at least. I have a little money, and I +must find some work to do soon. Is this Mrs. O’Keefe a nice +lady?”</p> + +<p>“She ain’t a lady at all,” answered Dodger, bluntly. +“She keeps an apple-stand near the corner of Bowery and Grand +Street; but she’s a good, respectable woman, and she’s +good-hearted. She’ll be kind to you, and try to make things pleasant; +but if you ain’t satisfied——”</p> + +<p>“It will do for the present. Kindness is what I need, driven as I +am from the home of my childhood. But you, Dodger, where do you +live?”</p> + +<p>“I’m goin’ to take a small room in the same house, +Miss Florence.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be glad to have you near me.”</p> + +<p>“I am proud to hear you say that. I’m a poor boy, and +you’re a rich lady, but——”</p> + +<p>“Not rich, Dodger. I am as poor as yourself.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a reg’lar lady, anyway. You ain’t one of +my kind, but I’m going to improve and raise myself. I was +readin’ the other day of a rich man that was once a poor boy, and +sold papers like me. But there’s one thing in the way—I +ain’t got no eddication.”</p> + +<p>“You can read and write, can’t you, Dodger?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I can read pretty well, but I can’t write +much.”</p> + +<p>“I will teach you in the evenings, when we are both at +leisure.”</p> + +<p>“Will you?” asked the boy, with a glad smile. +“You’re very kind—I’d like a teacher like +you.”</p> + +<p>“Then it’s a bargain, Dodger,” and Florence’s +face for the first time lost its sad look, as she saw an opportunity of +helping one who had befriended her. “But you must promise to study +faithfully.”</p> + +<p>“That I will. If I don’t, I’ll give you leave to lick +me.”</p> + +<p>“I shan’t forget that,” said Florence, amused. +“I will buy a ruler of good hard wood, and then you must look out. +But, tell me, where have you lived hitherto?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like to tell you, Miss Florence. I’ve lived +ever since I was a kid with a man named Tim Bolton. He keeps a saloon on +the Bowery, near Houston Street. It’s a tough place, I tell you. +I’ve got a bed in one corner—it’s tucked away in a closet +in the day.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is a drinking saloon?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s what it is.”</p> + +<p>“And kept open very late?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty much all night.”</p> + +<p>“Is this Tim Bolton any relation of yours?”</p> + +<p>“He says he’s my father; but I don’t believe +it.”</p> + +<p>“Have you always lived with him?”</p> + +<p>“Ever since I was a small kid.”</p> + +<p>“Have you always lived in New York?”</p> + +<p>“No; I was out in Australia. Tim was out in the country part of +the time, and part of the time he kept a saloon in Melbourne. There was +thieves and burglars used to come into his place. I knew what they were, +though they didn’t think I did.”</p> + +<p>“How terrible for a boy to be subjected to such +influences.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve made up my mind I won’t live with Tim no +longer. I can earn my own livin’ sellin’ papers, or +smashin’ baggage, and keep away from Tim. I’d have done it +before if I’d had a friend like you to care for me.”</p> + +<p>“We will stand by each other, Dodger. Heaven knows I need a +friend, and if I can be a friend to you, and help you, I will.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll get out here, Miss Florence. I told Mrs. +O’Keefe I’d call at her stand, and she’ll go over and +show you your room.”</p> + +<p>They left the car at the corner of Grand Street, and Dodger led the way +to an apple-stand, presided over by a lady of ample proportions, whose +broad, Celtic face seemed to indicate alike shrewd good sense and a kindly +spirit.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. O’Keefe,” said Dodger, “this is the young +lady I spoke to you about—Miss Florence Linden.”</p> + +<p>“It’s welcome you are, my dear, and I’m very glad to +make your acquaintance. You look like a rale leddy, and I don’t know +how you’ll like the room I’ve got for you.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot afford to be particular, Mrs. O’Keefe. I have had +a—a reverse of circumstances, and I must be content with an humble +home.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll go over and show it to you. Here, Kitty, come and +mind the stand,” she called to a girl about thirteen across the +street, “and don’t let anybody steal the apples. Look out for +Jimmy Mahone, he stole a couple of apples right under my nose this +mornin’, the young spalpeen!”</p> + +<p>As they were crossing the street, a boy of fourteen ran up to +Dodger.</p> + +<p>“Dodger,” said he, “you’d better go right over +to Tim Bolton’s. He’s in an awful stew—says he’ll +skin you alive if you don’t come to the s’loon right +away.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter IX.<br/> +The New Home.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">You</span> can tell Tim Bolton,” said +Dodger, “that I don’t intend to come back at all.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean it, Dodger?” said Ben Holt, +incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do. I’m going to set up for myself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dodger,” said Florence, “I’m afraid you +will get into trouble for my sake!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry about that, Miss Florence. I’m old enough +to take care of myself, and I’ve got tired of livin’ with +Tim.”</p> + +<p>“But he may beat you!”</p> + +<p>“He’ll have to get hold of me first.”</p> + +<p>They had reached a four-story tenement of shabby brick, which was +evidently well filled up by a miscellaneous crowd of tenants; shop girls, +mechanics, laborers and widows, living by their daily toil.</p> + +<p>Florence had never visited this part of the city, and her heart sank +within her as she followed Mrs. O’Keefe through a dirty hallway, up a +rickety staircase, to the second floor.</p> + +<p>“One more flight of stairs, my dear,” said Mrs. +O’Keefe, encouragingly. “I’ve got four rooms upstairs; +one of them is for you, and one for Dodger.”</p> + +<p>Florence did not reply. She began to understand at what cost she had +secured her freedom from a distasteful marriage.</p> + +<p>In her Madison Avenue home all the rooms were light, clean and +luxuriously furnished. Here—— But words were inadequate to +describe the contrast.</p> + +<p>Mrs. O’Keefe threw open the door of a back room about twelve feet +square, furnished in the plainest manner, uncarpeted, except for a strip +that was laid, like a rug, beside the bedstead.</p> + +<p>There was a washstand, with a mirror, twelve by fifteen inches, placed +above it, a pine bureau, a couple of wooden chairs, and a cane-seated +rocking-chair.</p> + +<p>“There, my dear, what do you say to that?” asked Mrs. +O’Keefe, complacently. “All nice and comfortable as you would +wish to see.”</p> + +<p>“It is—very nice,” said Florence, faintly, sacrificing +truth to politeness.</p> + +<p>“And who do you think used to live here?” asked the +apple-woman.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“The bearded woman in the dime museum,” answered Mrs. +O’Keefe, nodding her head. “She lived with me three months, and +she furnished the room herself. When she went away she was hard up, and I +bought the furniture of her cheap. You remember Madam Berger, don’t +you, Dodger?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I seen her often.”</p> + +<p>“She got twenty-five dollars a week, and she’d ought to have +saved money, but she had a good-for-nothin’ husband that drank up all +her hard earnin’s.”</p> + +<p>“I hope she didn’t drink herself,” said Florence, who +shuddered at the idea of succeeding a drunken tenant.</p> + +<p>“Not a drop. She was a good, sober lady, if she did work in a dime +museum. She only left here two weeks ago. It isn’t every one +I’d be willin’ to take in her place, but I see you’re a +real leddy, let alone that Dodger recommends you. I hope you’ll like +the room, and I’ll do all I can to make things pleasant. You can go +into my room any hour, my dear, and do your little cookin’ on my +stove. I s’pose you’ll do your own cookin’?”</p> + +<p>“Well, not just at present,” faltered Florence. “I am +afraid I don’t know much about cooking.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll find it a deal cheaper, and it’s more quiet +and gentale than goin’ to the eatin’-houses. I’ll help +you all I can, and glad to.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mrs. O’Keefe, you are very kind,” said +Florence, gratefully. “Perhaps just at first you wouldn’t +object to taking me as a boarder, and letting me take my meals with you. I +don’t think I would like to go to the eating-houses alone.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure, my dear, if you wish it, and I’ll be glad of +your company. I’ll make the terms satisfactory.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt of that,” said Florence, feeling very much +relieved.</p> + +<p>“If I might be so bold, what kind of work are you going to +do?”</p> + +<p>“I hardly know. It has come upon me so suddenly. I shall have to +do something, for I haven’t got much money. What I should like best +would be to write——”</p> + +<p>“Is it for the papers you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; I mean for some author or lawyer.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know much about that,” said Mrs. +O’Keefe. “In fact, I don’t mind tellin’ you, my +dear, that I can’t write myself, but I earn a good livin’ all +the same by my apple-stand. I tell you, my dear,” she continued in a +confidential tone, “there is a good dale of profit in sellin’ +apples. It’s better than sewin’ or writin’. Of course, a +young leddy like you wouldn’t like to go into the +business.”</p> + +<p>Florence shook her head, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“No, Mrs. O’Keefe,” she said. “I am afraid I +haven’t a business turn, and I should hardly like so public an +employment.”</p> + +<p>“Lor’, miss, it’s nothin’ if you get used to it. +There’s nothin’ dull about my business, unless it rains, and +you get used to havin’ people look at you.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t all that are worth looking at like you, Mrs. +O’Keefe,” said Dodger, slyly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, go away wid your fun, Dodger,” said the apple-woman, +good-naturedly. “I ain’t much to look at, I know.”</p> + +<p>“I think there’s a good deal of you to look at, Mrs. +O’Keefe. You must weigh near three hundred.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve a good mind to box your ears, Dodger. I only weigh a +hundred and ninety-five. But I can’t be bothered wid your jokes. Can +you sew, Miss Florence?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I would rather earn my living some other way, if +possible.”</p> + +<p>“Small blame to you for that. I had a girl in Dodger’s room +last year who used to sew for a livin’. Early and late she worked, +poor thing, and she couldn’t make but two dollars a week.”</p> + +<p>“How could she live?” asked Florence, startled, for she knew +very little of the starvation wages paid to toiling women.</p> + +<p>“She didn’t live. She just faded away, and it’s my +belief the poor thing didn’t get enough to eat. Every day or two +I’d make an excuse to take her in something from my own table, a +plate of meat, or a bit of toast and a cup of tay, makin’ belave she +didn’t get a chance to cook for herself, but she got thinner and +thinner, and her poor cheeks got hollow, and she died in the hospital at +last.”</p> + +<p>The warm-hearted apple-woman wiped away a tear with the corner of her +apron, as she thought of the poor girl whose sad fate she described.</p> + +<p>“You won’t die of consumption, Mrs. O’Keefe,” +said Dodger. “It’ll take a good while for you to fade +away.”</p> + +<p>“Hear him now,” said the apple-woman, laughing. “He +will have his joke, Miss Florence, but he’s a good bye for all that, +and I’m glad he’s goin’ to lave Tim Bolton, that ould +thafe of the worruld.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Mrs. O’Keefe, you know you’d marry Tim if +he’d only ask you.”</p> + +<p>“Marry him, is it? I’d lay my broom over his head if he had +the impudence to ask me. When Maggie O’Keefe marries ag’in, she +won’t marry a man wid a red nose.”</p> + +<p>“Break it gently to him, Mrs. O’Keefe. Tim is just the man +to break his heart for love of you.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. O’Keefe aimed a blow at Dodger, but he proved true to his +name, and skillfully evaded it.</p> + +<p>“I must be goin’,” he said. “I’ve got to +work, or I can’t pay room rent when the week comes round.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do, Dodger?” asked Florence.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t time for the evenin’ papers yet, so I shall +go ’round to the piers and see if I can’t get a job at +smashin’ baggage.”</p> + +<p>“But I shouldn’t think any one would want to do that,” +said Florence, puzzled.</p> + +<p>“It’s what we boys call it. It’s just carryin’ +valises and bundles. Sometimes I show strangers the way to Broadway. Last +week an old man paid me a dollar to show him the way to the Cooper +Institute. He was a gentleman, he was. I’d like to meet him +ag’in. Good-by, Miss Florence; I’ll be back some time this +afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“And I must be goin’, too,” said Mrs. O’Keefe. +“I can’t depend on that Kitty; she’s a wild slip of a +girl, and just as like as not I’ll find a dozen apples stole when I +get back. I hope you won’t feel lonely, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“I think I will lie down a while,” said Florence. “I +have a headache.”</p> + +<p>She threw herself on the bed, and a feeling of loneliness and desolation +came over her.</p> + +<p>Her new friends were kind, but they could not make up to her for her +uncle’s love, so strangely lost, and the home she had left +behind.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter X.<br/> +The Arch Conspirator.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">In</span> the house on Madison Avenue, Curtis Waring +was left in possession of the field. Through his machinations Florence had +been driven from home and disinherited.</p> + +<p>He was left sole heir to his uncle’s large property with the +prospect of soon succeeding, for though only fifty-four, John Linden looked +at least ten years older, and was as feeble as many men past seventy.</p> + +<p>Yet, as Curtis seated himself at the breakfast table an hour after +Florence had left the house, he looked far from happy or triumphant.</p> + +<p>One thing he had not succeeded in, the conquest of his cousin’s +heart. Though he loved himself best, he was really in love with Florence, +so far as he was capable of being in love with any one.</p> + +<p>She was only half his age—scarcely that—but he persuaded +himself that the match was in every way suitable.</p> + +<p>He liked to fancy her at the head of his table, after the death of his +uncle, which he anticipated in a few months at latest.</p> + +<p>The more she appeared to dislike him, the more he determined to marry +her, even against her will.</p> + +<p>She was the only one likely to inherit John Linden’s wealth, and +by marrying her he would make sure of it.</p> + +<p>Yet she had been willing to leave the home of her youth, to renounce +luxury for a life of poverty, rather than to marry him.</p> + +<p>When he thought of this his face became set and its expression stern and +determined.</p> + +<p>“Florence shall yet be mine,” he declared, resolutely. +“I will yet be master of her fate, and bend her to my will. Foolish +girl, how dare she match her puny strength against the resolute will of +Curtis Waring?”</p> + +<p>“Was there any one else whom she loved?” he asked himself, +anxiously. No, he could think of none. On account of his uncle’s +chronic invalidism, they had neither gone into society, nor entertained +visitors, and in the midst of a great city Florence and her uncle had +practically led the lives of recluses.</p> + +<p>There had been no opportunity to meet young men who might have proved +claimants for her hand.</p> + +<p>“When did Miss Florence leave the house, Jane?” he inquired, +as he seated himself at the table.</p> + +<p>“Most an hour since,” the girl answered, coldly, for she +disliked Curtis as much as she loved and admired Florence.</p> + +<p>“It is sad, very sad that she should be so headstrong,” said +Curtis, with hypocritical sorrow.</p> + +<p>“It is sad for her to go away from her own uncle’s +house,” returned Jane.</p> + +<p>“And very—very foolish.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that, sir. She had her reasons,” +said Jane, significantly.</p> + +<p>Curtis coughed.</p> + +<p>He had no doubt that Florence had talked over the matter with her +hand-maiden.</p> + +<p>“Did she say where she was going, Jane?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think the poor child knew herself, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Did she go alone?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; the boy that was here last night called for +her.”</p> + +<p>“That ragamuffin!” said Curtis, scornfully. “She +certainly shows extraordinary taste for a young lady of family.”</p> + +<p>“The boy seems a very kind and respectable boy,” said Jane, +who had been quite won by Dodger’s kindness to her young +mistress.</p> + +<p>“He may be respectable, though I am not so sure of that; but his +position in life is very humble. He is probably a bootblack; a singular +person to select for the friend of a girl like Florence.”</p> + +<p>“There’s them that stands higher that isn’t half so +good,” retorted Jane, with more zeal than good grammar.</p> + +<p>“Did Miss Florence take a cab?”</p> + +<p>“No; she just walked.”</p> + +<p>“But she took some clothing with her?”</p> + +<p>“She took a handbag—that is all. She will send for her +trunk.”</p> + +<p>“If you find out where she is living, just let me know, +Jane.”</p> + +<p>“I will if she is willing to have me,” answered Jane, +independently.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Jane,” said Curtis, angrily, “don’t +forget that you are not her servant, but my uncle’s. It is to him you +look for wages, not to Miss Florence.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t need to be told that, sir. I know that well +enough.”</p> + +<p>“Then you know that it is to him that your faithful services are +due, not to Florence?”</p> + +<p>“I’m faithful to both, Mr. Waring.”</p> + +<p>“You are aware that my uncle is justly displeased with my +cousin?”</p> + +<p>“I know he’s displeased, but I am sure he has no good reason +to be.”</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring bit his lips. The girl, servant as she was, seemed to be +openly defying him. His imperious temper could ill brook this.</p> + +<p>“Take care!” he said, with a frown. “You seem to be +lacking in respect to me. You don’t appear to understand my position +in this house.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I do. I know you have schemed to get my poor young +mistress out of the house, and have succeeded.”</p> + +<p>“I have a great mind to discharge you, girl,” said Curtis, +with lowering brow.</p> + +<p>“I am not your servant, sir. You have nothing to do with +me.”</p> + +<p>“You will see whether I have or not. I will let you remain for a +time, as it is your attachment to Miss Florence that has made you forget +yourself. You will find that it is for your interest to treat me +respectfully.”</p> + +<p>A feeble step was heard at the door, and John Linden entered the +breakfast-room. His face was sad, and he heaved a sigh as he glanced +mechanically at the head of the table, where Florence usually sat.</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring sprang to his feet, and placing himself at his +uncle’s side, led him to his seat.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel this morning, uncle?” he asked, with +feigned solicitude.</p> + +<p>“Ill, Curtis. I didn’t sleep well last night.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t wonder, sir. You had much to try you.”</p> + +<p>“Is—is Florence here?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” answered Jane, promptly. “She left the +house an hour ago.”</p> + +<p>A look of pain appeared on John Linden’s pale face.</p> + +<p>“Did—did she leave a message for me?” he asked, +slowly.</p> + +<p>“She asked me to bid you good-by for her,” answered Jane, +quickly.</p> + +<p>“Uncle, don’t let yourself be disturbed now with painful +thoughts. Eat your breakfast first, and then we will speak of +Florence.”</p> + +<p>John Linden ate a very light breakfast. He seemed to have lost his +appetite and merely toyed with his food.</p> + +<p>When he arose from the table, Curtis supported him to the library.</p> + +<p>“It is very painful to me—this conduct of Florence’s, +Curtis,” he said, as he sank into his armchair.</p> + +<p>“I understand it fully, uncle,” said Curtis. “When I +think of it, it makes me very angry with the misguided girl.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I have been too harsh—too stern!”</p> + +<p>“You, uncle, too harsh! Why, you are the soul of gentleness. +Florence has shown herself very ungrateful.”</p> + +<p>“Yet, Curtis, I love that girl. Her mother seemed to live again in +her. Have I not acted cruelly in requiring her to obey me or leave the +house?”</p> + +<p>“You have acted only for good. You are seeking her +happiness.”</p> + +<p>“You really think this, Curtis?”</p> + +<p>“I am sure of it.”</p> + +<p>“But how will it all end?” asked Linden, bending an anxious +look upon his wily nephew.</p> + +<p>“By Florence yielding.”</p> + +<p>“You are sure of that?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Listen, uncle; Florence is only capricious, like most girls +of her age. She foolishly desires to have her own way. It is nothing more +serious, I can assure you.”</p> + +<p>“But she has left the house. That seems to show that she is in +earnest.”</p> + +<p>“She thinks, uncle, that by doing so she can bend you to her +wishes. She hasn’t the slightest idea of any permanent separation. +She is merely experimenting upon your weakness. She expects you will recall +her in a week, at the latest. That is all of it.”</p> + +<p>Like most weak men, it made Mr. Linden angry to have his strength +doubted.</p> + +<p>“You think that?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt of it.”</p> + +<p>“She shall find that I am resolute,” he said, irritably. +“I will not recall her.”</p> + +<p>“Bravo, uncle! Only stick to that, and she will yield +unconditionally within a fortnight. A little patience, and you will carry +your point. Then all will be smooth sailing.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so, Curtis. Your words have cheered me. I will be patient. +But I hope I shan’t have to wait long. Where is the morning +paper?”</p> + +<p>“I shall have to humor and deceive him,” thought Curtis. +“I shall have a difficult part to play, but I am sure to succeed at +last.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XI.<br/> +Florence Secures Employment.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">For</span> a few days after being installed in her new +home Florence was like one dazed.</p> + +<p>She could not settle her mind to any plan of self-support.</p> + +<p>She was too unhappy in her enforced exile from her home, and it saddened +her to think that the uncle who had always been so kind was permanently +estranged from her.</p> + +<p>Though Mrs. O’Keefe was kind, and Dodger was her faithful friend, +she could not accustom herself to her poor surroundings.</p> + +<p>She had not supposed luxury so essential to her happiness.</p> + +<p>It was worse for her because she had nothing to do but give way to her +morbid fancies.</p> + +<p>This Mrs. O’Keefe was clear-sighted enough to see.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry to see you so downcast like, my dear young +lady,” she said.</p> + +<p>“How can I help it, Mrs. O’Keefe?” returned +Florence.</p> + +<p>“Try not to think of your wicked cousin, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t of him that I think—it is of my uncle. How +could he be so cruel, and turn against me after years of +kindness?”</p> + +<p>“It’s that wicked Curtis that is settin’ him against +you, take my word for it, Miss Florence. Shure, he must be wake-minded to +let such a spalpeen set him against a swate young leddy like +you.”</p> + +<p>“He is weak in body, not in mind, Mrs. O’Keefe. You are +right in thinking that it is Curtis that is the cause of my +misfortune.”</p> + +<p>“Your uncle will come to his right mind some day, never fear! And +now, my dear, shall I give you a bit of advice?”</p> + +<p>“Go on, my kind friend. I will promise to consider whatever you +say.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’d better get some kind of work to take up your +mind—a bit of sewin’, or writin’, or anything that comes +to hand. I suppose you wouldn’t want to mind my apple-stand a couple +of hours every day?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Florence. “I don’t feel equal to +that.”</p> + +<p>“It would do you no end of good to be out in the open air. It +would bring back the roses to your pale cheeks. If you coop yourself up in +this dark room, you’ll fade away and get thin.”</p> + +<p>“You are right. I will make an effort and go out. Besides, I must +see about work.”</p> + +<p>Here Dodger entered the room in his usual breezy way. In his hand he +brandished a morning paper.</p> + +<p>“How are you feelin’, Florence?” he asked; he had +given up saying Miss Florence at her request. “Here’s an +advertisement that’ll maybe suit you.”</p> + +<p>“Show it to me, Dodger,” said Florence, beginning to show +some interest.</p> + +<p>The boy directed her attention to the following advertisement:</p> + +<p class="note">“<span class="sc">Wanted.—</span>A governess +for a girl of twelve. Must be a good performer on the piano, and able to +instruct in French and the usual English branches. Terms must be moderate. +Apply to Mrs. Leighton, at 127 W. —— Street.”</p> + +<p>“There, Florence, what do you say to that? That’s better +than sewin’.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, Dodger, whether I am competent.”</p> + +<p>“You play on the pianner, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well enough to teach?”</p> + +<p>“I think so; but I may not have the gift of teaching.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you have. Haven’t you been teachin’ me every +evenin’? You make everything just as clear as mud—no, I +don’t mean that. You just explain so that I can’t help +understandin’.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Florence, “I suppose I am at liberty to +refer to you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; you can tell the lady to call at the office of Dodger, Esq., +any mornin’ after sunrise, and he’ll give her full +particulars.”</p> + +<p>Florence did not immediately decide to apply for the situation, but the +more she thought of it the more she felt inclined to do so. The little +experience she had had with Dodger satisfied her that she should enjoy +teaching better than sewing or writing.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, an hour later, she put on her street dress and went uptown +to the address given in the advertisement.</p> + +<p>No. 127 was a handsome brown-stone house, not unlike the one in which +Florence had been accustomed to live. It was a refreshing contrast to the +poor tenement in which she lived at present.</p> + +<p>“Is Mrs. Leighton at home?” inquired Florence. “Yes, +miss,” answered the servant, respectfully. “Whom shall I +say?”</p> + +<p>“I have come to apply for the situation of governess,” +answered Florence, feeling rather awkward as she made the statement.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said the servant, with a perceptible decline in +respect. “Won’t you step in?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she do dress fine for a governess,” said Nancy to +herself. “It’s likely she’ll put on airs.”</p> + +<p>The fact was that Florence was dressed according to her past social +position—in a costly street attire—but it had never occurred to +her that she was too well dressed for a governess.</p> + +<p>She took her seat in the drawing-room, and five minutes later there was +a rustling heard, and Mrs. Leighton walked into the room.</p> + +<p>“Are you the applicant for the position of governess?” she +asked, surveying the elegantly attired young lady seated on the sofa.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mrs. Leighton,” answered Florence, easily, for she +felt more at home in a house like this than in the tenement.</p> + +<p>“Have you taught before?”</p> + +<p>“Very little,” answered Florence, smiling to herself, as she +wondered what Mrs. Leighton would say if she could see Dodger, the only +pupil she ever had. “However, I like teaching, and I like +children.”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, but you don’t look like a governess, +Miss——”</p> + +<p>“Linden,” suggested Florence, filling out the sentence. +“Do governesses have a peculiar look?”</p> + +<p>“I mean as to dress. You are more expensively dressed than the +average governess can afford.”</p> + +<p>“It is only lately that my circumstances required me to support +myself. I should not be able to buy such a dress out of my present +earnings.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad to hear you say that, for I do not propose to give a +large salary.”</p> + +<p>“I do not expect one,” said Florence, quietly. “You +consider yourself competent to instruct in music, French and the English +branches?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Do you speak French?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam.”</p> + +<p>“Would you favor me with a specimen of your piano +playing?”</p> + +<p>There was a piano in the back parlor. Florence removed her gloves, and +taking a seat before it, dashed into a spirited selection from Strauss.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leighton listened with surprised approval.</p> + +<p>“Certainly you are a fine performer,” she said. +“What—if I should engage you—would you expect in the way +of compensation?”</p> + +<p>“How much time would you expect me to give?”</p> + +<p>“Three hours daily—from nine to twelve.”</p> + +<p>“I hardly know what to say. What did you expect to pay?”</p> + +<p>“About fifty cents an hour.”</p> + +<p>Florence knew very well, from the sums that had been paid for her own +education, that this was miserably small pay; but it was much more than she +could earn by sewing.</p> + +<p>“I will teach a month on those terms,” she said, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leighton looked well pleased. She knew that she was making a great +bargain.</p> + +<p>“Oh, by the way,” she said, “can you give +references?”</p> + +<p>“I can refer you to Madam Morrison,” naming the head of a +celebrated female seminary. “She educated me.”</p> + +<p>“That will be quite satisfactory,” said Mrs. Leighton, +graciously. “Can you begin to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam.”</p> + +<p>“You will then see your pupil. At present she is out.”</p> + +<p>Florence bowed and withdrew.</p> + +<p>She had been afraid Mrs. Leighton would inquire where she lived, and she +would hardly dare to name the humble street which she called home.</p> + +<p>She walked toward Fifth Avenue, when, just as she was turning the +corner, she met Mr. Percy de Brabazon, swinging a slender cane, and dressed +in the extreme of the fashion.</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden!” he exclaimed, eagerly. “This +is—aw—indeed a pleasure. Where are you walking this fine morning? +May I—aw—have the pleasure of accompanying you?”</p> + +<p>Florence stopped short in deep embarrassment.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XII.<br/> +A Friend, Though A Dude.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Percy de Brabazon</span> looked sincerely glad to meet +Florence, and she herself felt some pleasure in meeting one who reminded +her of her former life.</p> + +<p>But it was quite impossible that she should allow him to accompany her +to her poor home on the East Side.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. de Brabazon, but my engagements this morning will +hardly permit me to accept your escort,” she said.</p> + +<p>“I suppose that means that you are going shopping; but I +don’t mind it, I assure you, and I will carry your bundles,” he +added, magnanimously.</p> + +<p>“That would never do. What! the fashionable Mr. de Brabazon +carrying bundles? You would lose your social status.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind, Miss Florence, as long as you give +me—aw—an approving smile.”</p> + +<p>“I will give it now, as I bid you good-morning.”</p> + +<p>“May I—aw—have the pleasure of calling upon you +to-morrow evening, Miss Linden?”</p> + +<p>“It is evident that you have not heard that I am no longer +residing with my uncle.”</p> + +<p>Mr. de Brabazon looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“No, I had not heard. May I ask—aw—where you are +wesiding?”</p> + +<p>“With friends,” answered Florence, briefly. “As you +are a friend and will be likely to hear it, I may as well mention that my +uncle is displeased with me, and has practically disowned me.”</p> + +<p>“Then, Miss Florence,” said Mr. de Brabazon, eagerly, +“won’t you accept—aw—my heart and hand? My mother +will be charmed to receive you, and I—aw—will strive to make +you happy.”</p> + +<p>“I appreciate your devotion, I do, indeed, Mr. de Brabazon,” +said Florence, earnestly; “but I must decline your offer. I will not +marry without love.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind that,” said Percy, “if +you’ll agree to take a feller; you’ll learn in time to like him +a little. I am wich—I know you don’t care for that—but I +can give you as good a home as your uncle. If you would give me +hope—aw——”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid I cannot, Mr. de Brabazon, but if you will allow me +to look upon you as a friend, I will call upon you if I have need of a +friend’s services.”</p> + +<p>“Will you, weally?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there is my hand on it. I ought to tell you that I must now +earn my own living, and am to give lessons to a young pupil in West +—— Street, three hours daily.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say you are actually poor?” said +Mr. de Brabazon, horrified.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed, I am.”</p> + +<p>“Then, won’t you let me lend you some money? I’ve got +more than I need, I have, ’pon my honor.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, I promise to call upon you if I need it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. de Brabazon looked pleased.</p> + +<p>“Would you mind telling me where you are going to teach, Miss +Florence?”</p> + +<p>Florence hesitated, but there was something so sincere and friendly in +the young man’s manner—dude though he was—that she +consented to grant his request.</p> + +<p>“I am to teach the daughter of Mr. Robert Leighton.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Miss Leighton is my cousin,” said Percy, in joyous +excitement.</p> + +<p>“Indeed! Had I known that I would hardly have told you.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be afwaid! I will be vewy discreet,” said Mr. +de Brabazon.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, and good-morning.”</p> + +<p>Florence went on her way, cheered and encouraged in spite of herself, by +her success in obtaining employment, and by the friendly offers of Mr. de +Brabazon.</p> + +<p>“It is wrong to get discouraged,” she said to herself. +“After all, there are warm hearts in the world.”</p> + +<p>When she entered her humble home, she found Dodger already there. There +was an eagerness in his manner, and a light in his eye, that seemed to +indicate good news.</p> + +<p>“Well, Dodger, what is it?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been waitin’ half an hour to see you, +Florence,” he said. “I’ve got some work for +you.”</p> + +<p>“What is it—sewing on a button, or mending a +coat?”</p> + +<p>“No, I mean workin’ for money. You can play on the pianner, +can’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“They want a young lady to play the pianner at a dime museum, for +nine dollars a week. It’s a bully chance. I just told the +manager—he’s a friend of mine—that I had a young lady +friend that was a stunnin’ player, and he wants you to come around +and see him.”</p> + +<p>It was a preposterous idea—so Florence thought—that she +should consent to play at such a place; but she couldn’t expect +Dodger to look at the matter in the same light, so she answered, very +gently and pleasantly:</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, Dodger, to look out for me, but I shall not +need to accept your friend’s offer. I have secured a chance to teach +uptown.”</p> + +<p>“You have? What’ll you get?”</p> + +<p>“I am to be employed three hours daily, at fifty cents an +hour.”</p> + +<p>“Geewhillikens! that’s good! You’d have to work as +much as twelve hours at the museum for the same pay.”</p> + +<p>“You see, therefore, that I am provided for—that is, if I +suit.”</p> + +<p>Dodger was a little disappointed. Still, he could not help admitting +that it would be better for Florence to teach three hours, than to work ten +or twelve. As to her having any objection to appearing at a dime museum, +that never occurred to him.</p> + +<p>Florence had sent for her trunk, and it was now in her room.</p> + +<p>Dodger accompanied an expressman to the house, and luckily saw Jane, who +arranged everything for him.</p> + +<p>“How’s the old gentleman?” asked Dodger. +“Florence wanted me to ask.”</p> + +<p>“He’s feeble,” said Jane, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>“Does he miss Florence?”</p> + +<p>“That he do.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t he send for her, then, to come back?” asked +Dodger, bluntly.</p> + +<p>“Because Curtis Waring makes him believe she’ll come around +and ask forgiveness, if he only holds out. I tell you, Dodger, that Curtis +is a viper.”</p> + +<p>“So he is,” answered Dodger, who was not quite clear in his +mind as to what a viper was. “I’d like to step on his +necktie.”</p> + +<p>“If it wasn’t for him, my dear young mistress would be back +in the house within twenty-four hours.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how the old gentleman can let him turn Florence +out of the house.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a snake in the grass, Dodger. It may be wicked, but I +just wish something would happen to him. And how is Miss Florence +lookin’, poor dear?”</p> + +<p>“She’s lookin’ like a daisy.”</p> + +<p>“Does she worry much?”</p> + +<p>“She did at first, but now she’s workin’ every day, +and she looks more cheerful-like.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Florence workin’! She that was always brought up like +a lady!”</p> + +<p>“She’s teachin’ a little girl three hours a +day.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that isn’t so bad!” said Jane, relieved. +“Teachin’ is genteel. I wish I could see her some day. Will you +tell her, Dodger, that next Sunday is my day out, and I’ll be in +Central Park up by the menagerie at three o’clock, if she’ll +only take the trouble to be up there?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell her, Jane, and I’m sure she’ll be +there.”</p> + +<p>A day or two afterward Curtis Waring asked: “Have you heard from +my Cousin Florence since she went away?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! Where is she staying?”</p> + +<p>“She didn’t send me word.”</p> + +<p>“How, then, did you hear from her?”</p> + +<p>“Dodger came with an expressman for her trunk.”</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring frowned.</p> + +<p>“And you let him have it?” he demanded, sternly.</p> + +<p>“Of course I did. Why shouldn’t I?”</p> + +<p>“You should have asked me.”</p> + +<p>“And what business have you with Miss Florence’s trunk, +I’d like to know?” said Jane, independently.</p> + +<p>“Never mind; you ought to have asked my permission.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t think you’d want to wear any of Miss +Florence’s things, Mr. Waring.”</p> + +<p>“You are silly and impertinent,” said Curtis, biting his +lips. “Did that boy tell you anything about her?”</p> + +<p>“Only that she wasn’t worryin’ any for you, Mr. +Curtis.”</p> + +<p>Curtis glanced angrily at his cousin’s devoted friend, and then, +turning on his heel, left the room.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bring her to terms yet,” he muttered. “No +girl of seventeen shall defy me!”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XIII.<br/> +Tim Bolton’s Saloon.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Not</span> far from Houston Street, on the west side of +the Bowery, is an underground saloon, with whose proprietor we are already +acquainted.</p> + +<p>It was kept by Tim Bolton, whose peculiar tastes and shady +characteristics well fitted him for such a business.</p> + +<p>It was early evening, and the gas jets lighted up a characteristic +scene.</p> + +<p>On the sanded floor were set several tables, around which were seated a +motley company, all of them with glasses of beer or whiskey before +them.</p> + +<p>Tim, with a white apron on, was moving about behind the bar, ministering +to the wants of his patrons. There was a scowl upon his face, for he was +not fond of work, and he missed Dodger’s assistance.</p> + +<p>The boy understood the business of mixing drinks as well as he, and +often officiated for hours at a time, thus giving his guardian and reputed +father a chance to leave the place and meet outside engagements.</p> + +<p>A tall, erect gentleman entered the saloon, and walked up to the +bar.</p> + +<p>“Good-evening, colonel,” said Tim.</p> + +<p>“Good-evening, sir,” said the newcomer, with a stately +inclination of the head.</p> + +<p>He was really a colonel, having served in the Civil War at the head of a +Georgia regiment.</p> + +<p>He had all the stately courtesy of a Southern gentleman, though not +above the weakness of a frequent indulgence in the strongest fluids +dispensed by Tim Bolton.</p> + +<p>“What’ll you have, colonel?”</p> + +<p>“Whiskey straight, sir. It’s the only drink fit for a +gentleman. Will you join me, Mr. Bolton?”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I will,” said Tim, as, pouring out a glass for +himself, he handed the bottle to the colonel.</p> + +<p>“Your health, sir,” said the colonel, bowing.</p> + +<p>“Same to you, colonel,” responded Tim, with a nod.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the boy?”</p> + +<p>Col. Martin had always taken considerable notice of Dodger, being +naturally fond of boys, and having once had a son of his own, who was +killed in a railroad accident when about Dodger’s age.</p> + +<p>“Danged if I know!” answered Tim, crossly.</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t left you, has he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he’s cleared out, the ungrateful young imp! I’d +like to lay my hands on the young rascal.”</p> + +<p>“Was he your son?”</p> + +<p>“He was my—stepson,” answered Tim, hesitating.</p> + +<p>“I see, you married his mother.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Tim, considering the explanation satisfactory, +and resolved to adopt it. “I’ve always treated him as if he was +my own flesh and blood, and I’ve raised him from a young kid. Now +he’s gone and left me.”</p> + +<p>“Can you think of any reason for his leaving you?”</p> + +<p>“Not one. I always treated him well. He’s been a great +expense to me, and now he’s got old enough to help me he must clear +out. He’s the most ungrateful cub I ever seen.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry he has gone—I used to like to have him serve +me.”</p> + +<p>“And now what’s the consequence? Here I am tied down to the +bar day and night.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you get some one in his place?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I’d likely be robbed; I had a bartender once who +robbed me of two or three dollars a day.”</p> + +<p>“But you trusted the boy?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Dodger wouldn’t steal—I can say that much for +him.”</p> + +<p>“There’s one thing I noticed about the boy,” said the +colonel, reflectively. “He wouldn’t drink. More than once I +have asked him to drink with me, but he would always say, ‘Thank you, +colonel, but I don’t like whiskey.’ I never asked him to take +anything else, for whiskey’s the only drink fit for a gentleman. Do +you expect to get the boy back?”</p> + +<p>“If I could only get out for a day I’d hunt him up; but +I’m tied down here.”</p> + +<p>“I seed him yesterday, Tim,” said a red-nosed man who had +just entered the saloon, in company with a friend of the same general +appearance. Both wore silk hats, dented and soiled with stains of dirt, +coats long since superannuated, and wore the general look of barroom +loafers.</p> + +<p>They seldom had any money, but lay in wait for any liberal stranger, in +the hope of securing a free drink.</p> + +<p>“Where did you see him, Hooker?” asked Tim Bolton, with +sudden interest.</p> + +<p>“Selling papers down by the Astor House.”</p> + +<p>“Think of that, colonel!” said Tim, disgusted. +“Becomin’ a common newsboy, when he might be in a genteel +employment! Did you speak to him, Hooker?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I asked him if he had left you.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say?”</p> + +<p>“That he had left you for good—that he was going to grow up +respectable!”</p> + +<p>“Think of that!” said Tim, with renewed disgust. “Did +he say where he lived?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Did he ask after me?”</p> + +<p>“No, except he said that you were no relation of his. He said he +expected you stole him when he was a kid, and he hoped some time to find +his relations.”</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton’s face changed color, and he was evidently disturbed. +Could the boy have heard anything? he wondered, for his suspicions were +very near the truth.</p> + +<p>“It’s all nonsense!” he said, roughly. “Next +time you see him, Hooker, foller him home, and find out where he +lives.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Tim. It ought to be worth something,” he +insinuated, with a husky cough.</p> + +<p>“That’s so. What’ll you take?”</p> + +<p>“Whiskey,” answered Hooker, with a look of pleased +anticipation.</p> + +<p>“You’re a gentleman, Tim,” he said, as he gulped down +the contents of a glass without winking.</p> + +<p>Briggs, his dilapidated companion, had been looking on in thirsty +envy.</p> + +<p>“I’ll help Hooker to look for Dodger,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Briggs.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t you stand a glass for me, too, Tim?” asked +Briggs, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Bolton, irritably. “I’ve been at +enough expense for that young rascal already.”</p> + +<p>But the colonel noticed the pathetic look of disappointment on the face +of Briggs, and he was stirred to compassion.</p> + +<p>“Drink with me, sir,” he said, turning to the overjoyed +Briggs.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, colonel. You’re a gentleman!”</p> + +<p>“Two glasses, Tim.”</p> + +<p>So the colonel drained a second glass, and Briggs, pouring out with +trembling fingers as much as he dared, followed suit.</p> + +<p>When the last drop was drunk, he breathed a deep sigh of measureless +enjoyment.</p> + +<p>“If either of you bring that boy in here,” said Tim, +“I’ll stand a couple of glasses for both.”</p> + +<p>“We’re your men, Tim,” said Hooker. “Ain’t +we, Briggs?”</p> + +<p>“That’s so, Hooker. Shake!”</p> + +<p>And the poor victims of drink shook hands energetically. Long since they +had sunk their manhood in the intoxicating cup, and henceforth lived only +to gratify their unnatural craving for what would sooner or later bring +them to a drunkard’s grave.</p> + +<p>As they left the saloon, the colonel turned to Tim, and said:</p> + +<p>“I like whiskey, sir; but I’ll be hanged if I can respect +such men as those.”</p> + +<p>“They’re bums, colonel, that’s what they +are!”</p> + +<p>“How do they live?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know. They’re in here about every +day.”</p> + +<p>“If it’s drink that’s brought them where they are, +I’m half inclined to give it up; but, after all, it isn’t +necessary to make a beast of yourself. I always drink like a gentleman, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“So you do, colonel.”</p> + +<p>At that moment a poor woman, in a faded calico dress with a thin shawl +over her shoulders, descended the steps that led into the saloon, and +walked up to the bar.</p> + +<p>“Has my husband been here to-night?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton frowned.</p> + +<p>“Who’s your husband?” he asked, roughly.</p> + +<p>“Wilson.”</p> + +<p>“No, Bill Wilson hasn’t been here to-night. Even if he had +you have no business to come after him. I don’t want any sniveling +women here.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t help it, Mr. Bolton,” said the woman, +putting her apron to her eyes. “If Bill comes in, won’t you +tell him to come home? The baby’s dead, and we haven’t a cent +in the house!”</p> + +<p>Even Tim was moved by this.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell him,” he said. “Take a drink +yourself; you don’t look strong. It shan’t cost you a +cent.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the woman, “not a drop! It has ruined my +happiness, and broken up our home! Not a drop!”</p> + +<p>“Here, my good lady,” said the colonel, with chivalrous +deference, “you have no money. Take this,” and he handed the +astonished woman a five-dollar bill.</p> + +<p>“Heaven bless you, sir!” she exclaimed, fervently.</p> + +<p>“Allow me to see you to the street,” and the gallant +Southern gentleman escorted her up to the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to horsewhip that woman’s husband. +Don’t you sell him another drop!” he said, when he +returned.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XIV.<br/> +The Missing Will.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">An</span> hour after the depart of the colonel there +was an unexpected arrival.</p> + +<p>A well-dressed gentleman descended the stairs gingerly, looked about him +with fastidious disdain, and walked up to the bar.</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton was filling an order, and did not immediately observe +him.</p> + +<p>When at length he turned around he exclaimed, in some surprise:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Waring!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Bolton, I have found my way here.”</p> + +<p>“I have been expecting you.”</p> + +<p>“I came to you for some information.”</p> + +<p>“Well, ask your questions: I don’t know whether I can answer +them.”</p> + +<p>“First, where is my Cousin Florence?”</p> + +<p>“How should I know? She wasn’t likely to place herself under +my protection.”</p> + +<p>“She’s with that boy of yours—Dodger, I believe you +call him. Where is he?”</p> + +<p>“Run away,” answered Bolton, briefly.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that you don’t know where he is?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do mean that. I haven’t set my eyes on him since +that night.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by such negligence? Do you remember who he +is?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly I do.”</p> + +<p>“Then why do you let him get of your reach?”</p> + +<p>“How could I help it? Here I am tied down to this bar day and +night! I’m nearly dead for want of sleep.”</p> + +<p>“It would be better to close up your place for a week and look +after him.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t do it. I should lose all my trade. People would +say I was closed up.”</p> + +<p>“And have you done nothing toward his recovery?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have sent out two men in search of him.”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea where he is, or what he is doing?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he has been seen in front of the Astor House, selling +papers. I have authorized my agent, if he sees him again, to follow him +home, and find out where he lives.”</p> + +<p>“That is good! Astor House? I may see him myself.”</p> + +<p>“But why do you want to see him? Do you want to restore him to his +rights?”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” said Curtis, glancing around him apprehensively. +“What we say may be overheard and excite suspicion. One thing may be +secured by finding him—the knowledge of Florence’s +whereabouts.”</p> + +<p>“What makes you think she and the boy are together?”</p> + +<p>“He came for her trunk. I was away from home, or I would not have +let it go——”</p> + +<p>“It is strange that they two are together, considering their +relationship.”</p> + +<p>“That is what I am afraid they will find out. She may tell him of +the mysterious disappearance of her cousin, and he——”</p> + +<p>“That reminds me,” interrupted Bolton. “He told +Hooker—Hooker was the man that saw him in front of the Astor +House—that he didn’t believe I was his father. He said he +thought I must have stolen him when he was a young kid.”</p> + +<p>“Did he say that?” asked Curtis, in evident alarm.</p> + +<p>“Yes, so Hooker says.”</p> + +<p>“If he has that idea in his head, he may put two and two together, +and guess that he is the long-lost cousin of Florence. Tim, the boy must be +got rid of.”</p> + +<p>“If you mean what I think you do, Mr. Waring, I’m not with +you. I won’t consent to harm the boy.”</p> + +<p>“You said that before. I don’t mean anything that will shock +your tender heart, Bolton,” said Curtis, with a sneer. “I mean +carried to a distance—Europe or Australia, for instance. All I want +is to keep him out of New York till my uncle is dead. After that I +don’t care what becomes of him.”</p> + +<p>“That’s better. I’ve no objection to that. How is the +old gentleman?”</p> + +<p>“He grieved so much at first over the girl’s loss, that I +feared he would insist on her being recalled at once. I soothed him by +telling him that he had only to remain firm, and she would come around, and +yield to his wishes.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think she will?” asked Tim, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“I intend she shall!” said Curtis, significantly. +“Bolton, I love the girl all the more for her obstinate refusal to +wed me. I have made up my mind to marry her with her consent, or without +it.”</p> + +<p>“I thought it was only the estate you were after?”</p> + +<p>“I want the estate and her with it. Mark my words, Bolton, I will +have both!”</p> + +<p>“You will have the estate, no doubt; Mr. Linden has made his will +in your favor, has he not?” and Bolton looked intently in the face of +his visitor.</p> + +<p>“Hark you, Bolton, there is a mystery I cannot fathom. My uncle +made two wills. In the earlier, he left the estate to Florence and myself, +if we married; otherwise, to me alone.”</p> + +<p>“That is satisfactory.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but there was another, in which the estate goes to the son, +if living. That will has disappeared.”</p> + +<p>“Is it possible?” asked Bolton, in astonishment. “When +was it missed?”</p> + +<p>“On the night of the burglary.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think——”</p> + +<p>“That the boy, Dodger, has it. Good Heavens! if he only knew that +by this will the estate goes to him!” and Waring wiped the +perspiration from his brow.</p> + +<p>“You are sure he did not give you the will?” he demanded, +eying Bolton sharply.</p> + +<p>“I have not seen him since the night of the robbery.”</p> + +<p>“If he has read the will, it may lead to dangerous +suspicions.”</p> + +<p>“He would give it to your cousin, Florence, would he +not?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so. Bolton, you must get the boy back, and take the will +from him, if you can.”</p> + +<p>“I will do my best; but you must remember that Dodger is no longer +a small kid. He is a boy of eighteen, strong and well grown. He +wouldn’t be easy to manage. Besides, as long as he doesn’t know +that he has any interest in the will, his holding it won’t do any +harm. Is the old gentleman likely to live long?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I sometimes hope—— Pshaw! why +should I play the hypocrite when speaking to you? Surely it is no sin to +wish him better off, since he can’t enjoy life!”</p> + +<p>“He might if Florence and his son were restored to him.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Bolton?” asked Curtis, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“What could I mean? It merely occurred to me,” said Bolton, +innocently. “You say he is quiet, thinkin’ the girl will come +around?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose time passes, and she doesn’t? Won’t he try to +find her? As she is in the city, that won’t be hard.”</p> + +<p>“I shall represent that she has left the city.”</p> + +<p>“For any particular point?”</p> + +<p>“No, that is not necessary.”</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>“If he worries himself into the grave, so much the better for +me.”</p> + +<p>“There is no halfway about you, Mr. Curtis Waring.”</p> + +<p>“Why should there be? Listen, Bolton; I have set my all on this +cast. I am now thirty-six, and still I am dependent upon my uncle’s +bounty. I am in debt, and some of my creditors are disposed to trouble me. +My uncle is worth—I don’t know how much, but I think half a +million. What does he get out of it? Food and clothes, but not happiness. +If it were mine, all the avenues of enjoyment would be open to me. That +estate I must have.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you get it, what is there for me?” asked +Bolton.</p> + +<p>“I will see that you are recompensed if you help me to +it.”</p> + +<p>“Will you put that in writing?”</p> + +<p>“Do you take me for a fool? To put it in writing would be to place +me in your power! You can trust me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps so,” said Tim Bolton, slowly.</p> + +<p>“At any rate you will have to. Well, good-night. I will see you +again. In the meantime try to find the boy.”</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton followed him with his eyes, as he left the saloon.</p> + +<p>“What would he say,” said Bolton to himself, “if he +knew that the will he so much wishes to find is in my hands, and that I +hold him in my power already?”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XV.<br/> +The New Governess.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Wish</span> me luck, Dodger!”</p> + +<p>“So I do, Florence. Are you goin’ to begin teachin’ +this mornin’?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and I hope to produce a favorable impression. It is very +important to me to please Mrs. Leighton and my future pupil.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you’ll suit. How nice you look!”</p> + +<p>Florence smiled, and looked pleased. She had taken pains with her dress +and personal appearance, and, being luckily well provided with handsome +dresses, had no difficulty in making herself presentable. As she stepped +out of the shabby doorway upon the sidewalk no one supposed her to be a +tenant, but she was generally thought to be a visitor, perhaps the agent of +some charitable association.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps all will not judge me as favorably as you do, +Dodger,” said Florence, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“If you have the headache any day, Florence, I’ll take your +place.”</p> + +<p>“You would look rather young for a tutor, Dodger, and I am afraid +you would not be dignified. Good-morning! I shall be back to +dinner.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad to find you punctual, Miss Linden,” said Mrs. +Leighton, as Florence was ushered into her presence. “This is your +pupil, my daughter, Carrie.”</p> + +<p>Florence smiled and extended her hand.</p> + +<p>“I hope we will like each other,” she said.</p> + +<p>The little girl eyed her with approval. This beautiful young lady was a +pleasant surprise to her, for, never having had a governess, she expected +to meet a stiff, elderly lady, of stern aspect. She readily gave her hand +to Florence, and looked relieved.</p> + +<p>“Carrie,” said Mrs. Leighton, “you may show Miss +Linden the way to the schoolroom.”</p> + +<p>“All right, mamma,” and the little girl led the way upstairs +to a back room on the third floor.</p> + +<p>“So this is to be our schoolroom, is it, Carrie?” said +Florence. “It is a very pleasant room.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I should have preferred the front chamber. Mamma thought +that I might be looking into the street too much. Here there is only a back +yard, and nothing to look at.”</p> + +<p>“Your mamma seems very judicious,” said Florence, smiling. +“Are you fond of study?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I ain’t exactly fond, but I will do my +best.”</p> + +<p>“That is all that can be expected.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Miss Linden, you don’t look at all like I +expected.”</p> + +<p>“Am I to be glad or sorry for that?”</p> + +<p>“I thought you would be an old maid, stiff and starched, like May +Robinson’s governess.”</p> + +<p>“I am not married, Carrie, so perhaps you may regard me as an old +maid.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll never be an old maid,” said Carrie, +confidently. “You are too young and pretty.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Carrie,” said Florence, with a little blush. +“You say that, I hope, because you are going to like me.”</p> + +<p>“I like you already,” said the little girl, impulsively. +“I’ve got a cousin that will like you, too.”</p> + +<p>“A young girl?”</p> + +<p>“No; of course not. He is a young man. His name is Percy de +Brabazon. It is a funny name, isn’t it? You see, his father was a +Frenchman.”</p> + +<p>Florence was glad that she already knew from Percy’s own mouth of +the relationship, as it saved her from showing a degree of surprise that +might have betrayed her acquaintance with the young man.</p> + +<p>“What makes you think your cousin would like me, +Carrie?”</p> + +<p>“Because he always likes pretty girls. He is a masher.”</p> + +<p>“That’s slang, Carrie. I am sure your mamma wouldn’t +approve your using such a word.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell her. It just slipped out. But about +Percy—he wants very much to be married.”</p> + +<p>Florence was not surprised to hear this, for she had the best reason for +knowing it to be true.</p> + +<p>“Is he a handsome young man?” she asked, demurely.</p> + +<p>“He’s funny looking. He’s awful good-natured, but he +isn’t the sort of young man I would like,” concluded Carrie, +with amusing positiveness.</p> + +<p>“I hope you don’t let your mind run on such things. You are +quite too young.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t think much about it. But Percy is a dude. He +spends a sight for clothes. He always looks as if he had just come out of a +bandbox.”</p> + +<p>“Is he in any business?”</p> + +<p>“No; he has an independent fortune, so mamma says. He was in +Europe last year.”</p> + +<p>“I think, Carrie, we must give up talking and attend to business. +I should have checked you before, but I thought a little conversation would +help us to get acquainted. Now show me your books, and I will assign your +lessons.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t give me too long lessons, please, Miss +Linden.”</p> + +<p>“I will take care not to task you beyond your strength. I +don’t want my pupil to grow sick on my hands.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you won’t be too strict. When May Robinson makes two +mistakes her governess makes her learn her lessons over again.”</p> + +<p>“I will promise not to be too strict. Now let me see your +books.”</p> + +<p>The rest of the forenoon was devoted to study.</p> + +<p>Florence was not only an excellent scholar, but she had the art of +imparting knowledge, and, what is very important, she was able in a few +luminous words to explain difficulties and make clear what seemed to her +pupil obscure.</p> + +<p>So the time slipped quickly and pleasantly away, and it was noon before +either she or her pupil realized it.</p> + +<p>“It can’t be twelve,” said Carrie, surprised.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is. We must defer further study till +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it is a great deal pleasanter than going to school, Miss +Linden. I dreaded studying at home, but now I like it.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you will continue to, Carrie. I can say that the time has +passed away pleasantly for me.”</p> + +<p>As Florence prepared to resume her street dress, Carrie said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, I forgot! Mamma asked me to invite you to stay to lunch with +me. I take lunch as soon as school is out, at twelve o’clock, so I +won’t detain you long.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Carrie; I will stay with pleasure.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad of that, for I don’t like to sit down to the +table alone. Mamma is never here at this time. She goes out shopping or +making calls, so poor I have to sit down to the table alone. It will be +ever so much pleasure to have you with me.”</p> + +<p>Florence was by no means sorry to accept the invitation.</p> + +<p>The meals she got at home were by no means luxurious, and the manner of +serving them was by no means what she enjoyed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. O’Keefe, though a good friend and a kindhearted woman, was +not a model housekeeper, and Florence had been made fastidious by her early +training. Lunch was, of course, a plain meal, but what was furnished was of +the best quality, and the table service was such as might be expected in a +luxurious home.</p> + +<p>Just as Florence was rising from the table, Mrs. Leighton entered the +room in street dress.</p> + +<p>“I am glad you remained to lunch, Miss Linden,” she said. +“You will be company for my little girl, who is very sociable. +Carrie, I hope you were a good girl, and gave Miss Linden no +trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Ask Miss Linden, mamma,” said Carrie, confidently.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, she did very well,” said Florence. “I foresee +that we shall get along admirably.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad to hear that. She is apt to be indolent.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t be with Miss Linden, mamma. She makes the studies +so interesting.”</p> + +<p>After Florence left the house, Carrie pronounced an eulogium upon her +which led Mrs. Leighton to congratulate herself upon having secured a +governess who had produced so favorable an impression on her little +girl.</p> + +<p>“Was you kept after school, Florence?” asked Dodger, as she +entered her humble home. “I am afraid you’ll find your dinner +cold.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, Dodger. I am to take dinner—or lunch, +rather—at the house where I am teaching; so hereafter Mrs. +O’Keefe need not wait for me.”</p> + +<p>“And how do you like your place?”</p> + +<p>“It is everything that is pleasant. You wished me good luck, +Dodger, and your wish has been granted.”</p> + +<p>“I was lucky, too, Florence. I’ve made a dollar and a +quarter this mornin’.”</p> + +<p>“Not by selling papers, surely?”</p> + +<p>“Not all. A gentleman gave me fifty cents for takin’ his +valise to the Long Branch boat.”</p> + +<p>“It seems we are both getting rich,” said Florence, +smiling.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XVI.<br/> +Dodger Becomes Ambitious.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Ah,</span> there, Dodger!”</p> + +<p>Dodger, who had been busily and successfully selling evening papers in +front of the Astor House, turned quickly as he heard his name called.</p> + +<p>His glance rested on two men, dressed in soiled white hats and shabby +suits, who were apparently holding each other up, having both been +imbibing.</p> + +<p>He at once recognized Hooker and Briggs, for he had waited upon them too +many times in Tim’s saloon not to recognize them.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, cautiously, “what do you +want?”</p> + +<p>“Tim has sent us for you!” answered the two, in unison.</p> + +<p>“What does he want of me?”</p> + +<p>“He wants you to come home. He says he can’t get along +without you.”</p> + +<p>“He will have to get along without me,” said the boy, +independently. “Tell him I’m not goin’ back!”</p> + +<p>“You’re wrong, Dodger,” said Hooker, shaking his head, +solemnly. “Ain’t he your father?”</p> + +<p>“No, he ain’t.”</p> + +<p>“He says he is,” continued Hooker, looking puzzled.</p> + +<p>“That don’t make it so.”</p> + +<p>“He ought to know,” put in Briggs.</p> + +<p>“Yes; he ought to know!” chimed in Hooker.</p> + +<p>“No doubt he does, but he can’t make me believe he’s +any relation of mine.”</p> + +<p>“Just go and argy the point with him,” said Hooker, +coaxingly.</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t do no good.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe it would. Just go back with us, that’s a good +boy.”</p> + +<p>“What makes you so anxious about it?” asked Dodger, +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Hooker, coughing, “we’re +Tim’s friends, don’t you know.”</p> + +<p>“What’s he goin’ to give you if I go back with +you?” asked the boy, shrewdly.</p> + +<p>“A glass of whiskey!” replied Hooker and Briggs in +unison.</p> + +<p>“Is that all?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe he’d make it two.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t go back with you,” said Dodger, after a +moment’s thought; “but I don’t want you to lose anything +by me. Here’s a dime apiece, and you can go and get a drink somewhere +else.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a trump, Dodger,” said Hooker, eagerly holding +out his hand.</p> + +<p>“I always liked you, Dodger,” said Briggs, with a similar +motion.</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t let Tim know you’ve seen me,” said +the newsboy, warningly.</p> + +<p>“We won’t.”</p> + +<p>And the interesting pair ambled off in the direction of the Bowery.</p> + +<p>“So Tim sent them fellers after me?” soliloqized Dodger. +“I guess I’ll have to change my office, or maybe Tim himself +will be droppin’ down on me some mornin’. It’ll be harder +to get rid of him than of them chumps.”</p> + +<p>So it happened that he used to take down his morning papers to the piers +on the North River, and take his chance of selling them to passengers from +Boston and others ports arriving by the Fall River boats, and others from +different points.</p> + +<p>The advantage of this was that he often got a chance to serve as guide +to strangers visiting the city for the first time, or as porter, to carry +their valise or other luggage.</p> + +<p>Being a bright, wideawake boy, with a pleasant face and manner, he found +his services considerably in demand; and on counting up his money at the end +of the week, he found, much to his encouragement, that he had received on +an average about a dollar and twenty-five cents per day.</p> + +<p>“That’s better than sellin’ papers alone,” +thought he. “Besides, Tim isn’t likely to come across me here. +I wonder I didn’t think of settin’ up for myself +before!”</p> + +<p>In the evening he spent an hour, and sometimes more, pursuing his +studies, under the direction of Florence. At first his attention was given +chiefly to improving his reading and spelling, for Dodger was far from +fluent in the first, while his style of spelling many words was strikingly +original.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t I stupid, Florence?” he asked one day, after +spelling a word of three syllables with such ingenious incorrectness as to +convulse his young teacher with merriment.</p> + +<p>“Not at all, Dodger. You are making excellent progress; but +sometimes you are so droll that I can’t help laughing.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind that if you think I am really gettin’ +on.”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly you are!”</p> + +<p>“I make a great many mistakes,” said Dodger, dubiously.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you do; but you must remember that you have taken lessons +only a short time. Don’t you think you can read a good deal more +easily than you did?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I don’t trip up half so often as I did. I’m +afraid you’ll get tired of teachin’ me.”</p> + +<p>“No fear of that, Dodger. As long as I see that you are improving, +I shall feel encouraged to go on.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I knew as much as your other scholar.”</p> + +<p>“You will in time if you go on. You mustn’t get +discouraged.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t!” said Dodger, stoutly. “If a little +gal like her can learn, I’d ought to be ashamed if I +don’t—a big boy of eighteen.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t the size of the boy that counts, +Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“I know that, but I ain’t goin’ to give in, and let a +little gal get ahead of me!”</p> + +<p>“Keep to that determination, Dodger, and you will succeed in time, +never fear.”</p> + +<p>On the whole, Florence enjoyed both her pupils. She had the faculty of +teaching, and she became very much interested in both.</p> + +<p>As for Dodger, she thought, rough diamond as he was, that she saw in him +the making of a manly man, and she felt that it was a privilege to assist +in the development of his intellectual nature.</p> + +<p>Again, he had picked up a good deal of slang from the nature of his +associates, and she set to work to improve his language, and teach him +refinement.</p> + +<p>It was necessarily a slow process, but she began to find after a time +that a gradual change was coming over him.</p> + +<p>“I want you to grow up a gentleman, Dodger,” she said to him +one day.</p> + +<p>“I’m too rough for that, Florence. I’m only an +ignorant street boy.”</p> + +<p>“You are not going to be an ignorant street boy all your life. I +don’t see why you should not grow up a polished gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“I shall never be like that de Brabazon young man,” said +he.</p> + +<p>“No, Dodger; I don’t think you will,” said Florence, +laughing. “I don’t want you to become effeminate nor a dude. I +think I would like you less than I do now.”</p> + +<p>“Do you like me, Florence?” asked Dodger, brightening +up.</p> + +<p>“To be sure I do. I hope you don’t doubt it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it don’t seem natural-like. You’re a fashionable +young lady——”</p> + +<p>“Not very fashionable, Dodger, just at present.”</p> + +<p>“Well, a high-toned young lady—one of the tip-tops, and I am +a rough Bowery boy.”</p> + +<p>“You were once, but you are getting over that rapidly. Did you +ever hear of Andy Johnson?”</p> + +<p>“Who was he?”</p> + +<p>“He became President of the United States. Well, at the age of +twenty-one he could neither read nor write.”</p> + +<p>“At twenty-one?” repeated Dodger. “Why, I’m only +eighteen, and I do know something of readin’ and +writin’.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure! Well, Andy Johnson was taught to read and write by +his wife. He kept on improving himself till, in course of time, he became a +United States Senator, Vice-President, and afterward, President. Now, I +don’t expect you to equal him, but I see no reason why you should not +become a well-educated man if you are content to work, and keep on +working.”</p> + +<p>“I will keep on, Florence,” said Dodger, earnestly.</p> + +<p>“If I ever find my relations I don’t want them to be ashamed +of me.”</p> + +<p>It was not the first time he had referred to his uncertain origin.</p> + +<p>“Won’t Tim Bolton tell you anything about your +family?”</p> + +<p>“No; I’ve asked him more’n once. He always says +he’s my father, and that makes me mad.”</p> + +<p>“It is strange,” said Florence, thoughtfully. “I had a +young cousin stolen many years ago.”</p> + +<p>“Was it the son of the old gentleman you lived with on Madison +Avenue?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it was the son of Uncle John. It quite broke him down. After +my cousin’s loss he felt that he had nothing to live for.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I was your cousin, Florence,” said Dodger, +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I will adopt you as my cousin, or brother, whichever +you prefer!”</p> + +<p>“I would rather be your cousin.”</p> + +<p>“Then cousin let it be! Now we are bound to each other by strong +and near ties.”</p> + +<p>“But when your uncle takes you back you’ll forget all about +poor Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t, Dodger. There’s my hand on it. Whatever +comes, we are friends forever.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll try not to disgrace you, Florence. I’ll +learn as fast as I can, and see if I don’t grow up to be a +gentleman.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XVII.<br/> +A Mysterious Adventure.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Several</span> weeks passed without changing in any way +the position or employment of Dodger or Florence.</p> + +<p>They had settled down to their respective forms of labor, and were able +not only to pay their modest expenses, but to save up something for a rainy +day.</p> + +<p>Florence had but one source of regret.</p> + +<p>She enjoyed her work, and did not now lament the luxurious home which +she had lost.</p> + +<p>But she did feel sore at heart that her uncle made no sign of regret for +their separation.</p> + +<p>From him she received no message of forgiveness or reconciliation.</p> + +<p>“He has forgotten me!” she said to herself, bitterly. +“He has cast me utterly out of his heart. I do not care for his +money, but I do not like to think that my kind uncle—for he was +always kind till the last trouble—has steeled his heart against me +forever.”</p> + +<p>But she learned through a chance meeting with Jane, that this was not +so.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Linden is getting very nervous and low-spirited,” said +the girl, “and sits hour after hour in the library looking into the +fire, a-fotchin’ deep sighs every few minutes. Once I saw him with +your photograph—the one you had taken last spring—in his hands, +and he looked sad-like when he laid it down.”</p> + +<p>“My dear uncle! Then he does think of me sometimes?”</p> + +<p>“It’s my belief he’d send for you if Curtis would let +him.”</p> + +<p>“Surely Curtis cannot exercise any restraint upon him?”</p> + +<p>“He has frequent talks with the old gentleman. I don’t know +what he says, but it’s sure to be something wicked. I expect he does +all he can to set him against you. Oh, he’s a cunning villain, he is, +even if he is your cousin, Miss Florence.”</p> + +<p>“And do you think my uncle is unhappy, Jane?” said Florence, +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“That I do, miss.”</p> + +<p>“He never was very bright or cheerful, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But he never was like this. And I do think he’s +gettin’ more and more feeble.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I ought to call upon him, and risk his sending me +away?”</p> + +<p>“It might be worth tryin’, Miss Florence.”</p> + +<p>The result of this conversation was that Florence did make up her mind +the very next afternoon to seek her old home. She had just reached the +front steps, and was about to ascend, when the door opened and Curtis +appeared.</p> + +<p>He started at sight of his cousin.</p> + +<p>“Florence!” he said. “Tell me why you came +here?”</p> + +<p>“I am anxious about my uncle,” she said. “Tell me, +Curtis, how he is.”</p> + +<p>“You know he’s never in vigorous health,” said Curtis, +evasively.</p> + +<p>“But is he as well as usual?”</p> + +<p>“He is about the same as ever. One thing would do more for him +than anything else.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Your agreement to marry me,” and he fixed his eyes upon her +face eagerly.</p> + +<p>Florence shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I should be glad to help my uncle,” she said, “but I +cannot agree to marry you.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” he demanded, roughly.</p> + +<p>“Because I do not love you, and never shall,” she responded, +firmly.</p> + +<p>“In other words, you refuse to do the only thing that will restore +our uncle to health and happiness?”</p> + +<p>“It is too much to ask.” Then, fixing her eyes upon him +keenly: “Why should uncle insist upon this marriage? Is it not +because you have influenced him in the matter?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Curtis, falsely. “He has some secret +reason, which he will not disclose to me, for desiring it.”</p> + +<p>Florence had learned to distrust the words of her wily cousin.</p> + +<p>“May I not see him?” she asked. “Perhaps he will tell +me.”</p> + +<p>“No; I cannot permit it.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot permit it? Are you, then, our uncle’s +guardian?”</p> + +<p>“No, and yes. I do not seek to control him, but I wish to save him +from serious agitation. Should he see you, and find that you are still +rebellious, the shock might kill him.”</p> + +<p>“I have reason to doubt your words,” said Florence, coldly. +“I think you are resolved to keep us apart.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, and I will tell you a secret; Uncle John has heart +disease, so the doctor assures me. Any unwonted agitation might kill him +instantly. I am sure you would not like to expose him to such a +risk.”</p> + +<p>He spoke with apparent sincerity, but Florence did not feel certain that +his words were truthful.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” she said. “Then I will give up seeing +him.”</p> + +<p>“It is best, unless you are ready to accede to his +wishes—and mine.”</p> + +<p>She did not answer, but walked away slowly.</p> + +<p>“It would never do to have them meet!” muttered Curtis. +“The old gentleman would ask her to come back on any terms, and then +all my scheming would be upset. That was a happy invention of mine, about +heart disease,” he continued, with a low laugh. “Though she +only half believed it, she will not dare to run the risk of giving him a +shock.”</p> + +<p>It was about this time that the quiet tenor of Dodger’s life was +interrupted by a startling event.</p> + +<p>He still continued to visit the piers, and one afternoon about six +o’clock, he stood on the pier awaiting the arrival of the day boat +from Albany, with a small supply of evening papers under his arm.</p> + +<p>He had sold all but half a dozen when the boat touched the pier. He +stood watching the various passengers as they left the boat and turned +their steps in different directions, when some one touched him on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>Looking up, he saw standing at his side a man of slender figure, with +gray hair and whiskers.</p> + +<p>“Boy,” he said, “I am a stranger in the city. Can I +ask your assistance?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; certainly,” answered Dodger, briskly.</p> + +<p>“Do you know where the nearest station of the elevated road +is?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I want to go uptown, but I know very little about the city. Will +you accompany me as guide? I will pay you well.”</p> + +<p>“All right, sir,” answered Dodger.</p> + +<p>It was just the job he was seeking.</p> + +<p>“We will have to walk a few blocks, unless you want to take a +carriage.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t necessary. I am strong, in spite of my gray +hair.”</p> + +<p>And indeed he appeared to be.</p> + +<p>Dodger noticed that he walked with the elastic step of a young man, +while his face certainly showed no trace of wrinkles.</p> + +<p>“I live in the West,” said the stranger, as they walked +along. “I have not been here for ten years.”</p> + +<p>“Then you have never ridden on the elevated road?” said +Dodger.</p> + +<p>“N-no,” answered the stranger, with curious hesitation.</p> + +<p>Yet when they reached the station he went up the staircase and purchased +his ticket with the air of a man who was thoroughly accustomed to doing +it.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you don’t want me any longer,” said Dodger, +preparing to resign the valise he was carrying, and which, by the way, was +remarkably light considering the size.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I shall need you,” said the other hurriedly. +“There may be some distance to walk after we get uptown.”</p> + +<p>“All right, sir.”</p> + +<p>Dodger was glad that further service was required, for this would of +course increase the compensation which he would feel entitled to ask.</p> + +<p>They entered one of the cars, and sat down side by side.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman drew a paper from his pocket, and began to read, while +Dodger, left to his own devices, sat quiet and looked about him.</p> + +<p>He was rather surprised that the old gentleman, who, according to his +own representation, was riding upon the elevated road for the first time, +seemed to feel no curiosity on the subject, but conducted himself in all +respects like an experienced traveler.</p> + +<p>“He’s a queer customer!” thought Dodger. +“However, it’s all one to me, as long as he pays me well for +the job.”</p> + +<p>They got out at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, and struck down +toward the river, Dodger carrying the valise.</p> + +<p>“I wonder where we’re going?” he asked himself.</p> + +<p>At length they reached a wooden house of three stories, standing by +itself, and here the stranger stopped.</p> + +<p>He rang the bell, and the door was opened by a hump-backed negro, who +looked curiously at Dodger.</p> + +<p>“Is the room ready, Julius?” asked the old man.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Boy, take the valise upstairs, and I will follow you.”</p> + +<p>Up two flights of stairs walked Dodger, followed by the old man and the +negro.</p> + +<p>The latter opened the door of a back room, and Dodger, obedient to +directions, took the valise inside and deposited it on a chair.</p> + +<p>He had hardly done so when the door closed behind him, and he heard the +slipping of a bolt.</p> + +<p>“What does all this mean?” Dodger asked himself in +amazement.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XVIII.<br/> +In A Trap.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Hold</span> on there! Open that door!” he +exclaimed, aloud.</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>“I say, let me out!” continued our hero, beginning to kick +at the panels.</p> + +<p>This time there was an answer.</p> + +<p>“Stop that kicking, boy! I will come back in fifteen minutes and +explain all.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” thought Dodger, “this is about the strangest +thing that ever happened to me. However, I can wait fifteen +minutes.”</p> + +<p>He sat down on a cane chair—there were two in the room—and +looked about him.</p> + +<p>He was in an ordinary bedroom, furnished in the usual manner. There was +nothing at all singular in its appearance.</p> + +<p>On a book shelf were a few books, and some old numbers of magazines. +There was one window looking into a back yard, but as the room was small it +was sufficient to light the apartment.</p> + +<p>Dodger looked about in a cursory manner, not feeling any particular +interest in his surroundings, for he had but fifteen minutes to wait, but +he thought it rather queer that it should be thought necessary to lock him +in.</p> + +<p>He waited impatiently for the time to pass.</p> + +<p>Seventeen minutes had passed when he heard the bolt drawn. Fixing his +eyes eagerly on the door he saw it open, and two persons entered.</p> + +<p>One was the hump-backed negro, carrying on a waiter a plate of buttered +bread, and a cup of tea; the other person was—not the old man, but, +to Dodger’s great amazement, a person well-remembered, though he had +only seen him once—Curtis Waring.</p> + +<p>“Set down the waiter on the table, Julius,” said +Waring.</p> + +<p>Dodger looked on in stupefaction. He was getting more and more +bewildered.</p> + +<p>“Now, you can go!” said Curtis, in a tone of authority.</p> + +<p>The negro bowed, and after he had disposed of the waiter, withdrew.</p> + +<p>“Do you know me, boy?” asked Curtis, turning now and +addressing Dodger.</p> + +<p>“Yes; you are Mr. Waring.”</p> + +<p>“You remember where you last saw me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. At your uncle’s house on Madison +Avenue.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right.”</p> + +<p>“How did you come here? Where is the old man whose valise I +brought from the Albany boat?”</p> + +<p>Curtis smiled, and drew from his pocket a gray wig and whiskers.</p> + +<p>“You understand now, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; I understand that I have been got here by a +trick.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Curtis, coolly. “I have deemed it wise +to use a little stratagem. But you must be hungry. Sit down and eat your +supper while I am talking to you.”</p> + +<p>Dodger was hungry, for it was past his usual supper time, and he saw no +reason why he should not accept the invitation.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, he drew his chair up to the table and began to eat. Curtis +seated himself on the other chair.</p> + +<p>“I have a few questions to ask you, and that is why I arranged +this interview. We are quite by ourselves,” he added, +significantly.</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir; go ahead.”</p> + +<p>“Where is my Cousin Florence? I am right, I take it, in assuming +that you know where she is.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; I know,” answered Dodger, slowly.</p> + +<p>“Very well, tell me.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think she wants you to know.”</p> + +<p>Curtis frowned.</p> + +<p>“It is necessary I should know!” he said, emphatically.</p> + +<p>“I will ask her if I may tell you.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t wait for that. You must tell me at once.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t do that.”</p> + +<p>“You are mistaken; you can do it.”</p> + +<p>“Then, I won’t!” said Dodger, looking his companion +full in the face.</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring darted a wicked look at him, and seemed ready to attack +the boy who was audacious enough to thwart him, but he restrained himself +and said:</p> + +<p>“Let that pass for the present. I have another question to ask. +Where is the document you took from my uncle’s desk on the night of +the burglary?”</p> + +<p>And he emphasized the last word.</p> + +<p>Dodger looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“I took no paper,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Do you deny that you opened the desk?” asked Curtis.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“When I came to examine the contents in the presence of my uncle, +it was found that a document—his will—had disappeared, and with +it a considerable sum of money.”</p> + +<p>And he looked sharply at Dodger.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know anything about it, sir. I took +nothing.”</p> + +<p>“You can hardly make me believe that. Why did you open the desk if +you did not propose to take anything?”</p> + +<p>“I did intend to take something. I was under orders to do so, for +I wouldn’t have done it of my own free will; but the moment I got the +desk open I heard a cry, and looking around, I saw Miss Florence looking at +me.”</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>“I was startled, and ran to her side.”</p> + +<p>“And then you went back and completed the robbery?”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t. She talked to me so that I felt ashamed of +it. I never stole before, and I wouldn’t have tried to do it then, +if—if some one hadn’t told me to.”</p> + +<p>“I know whom you mean—Tim Bolton.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Tim Bolton, since you know.”</p> + +<p>“What did he tell you to take?”</p> + +<p>“The will and the money.”</p> + +<p>“Eactly. Now we are coming to it. You took them, and gave them +to him?”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t. I haven’t seen him since that +night.”</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring regarded the boy thoughtfully. His story was +straightforward, and it agreed with the story told by Tim himself. But, on +the other hand, he denied taking the missing articles, and yet they had +disappeared.</p> + +<p>Curtis decided that both he and Tim had lied, and that this story had +been concocted between them.</p> + +<p>Probably Bolton had the will and the money—the latter he did not +care for—and this thought made him uneasy, for he knew that Tim +Bolton was an unscrupulous man, and quite capable of injuring him, if he +saw the way clear to do so.</p> + +<p>“My young friend,” he said, “your story is not even +plausible. The articles are missing, and there was no one but yourself and +Florence who were in a position to take them. Do you wish me to think that +my Cousin Florence robbed the desk?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; I don’t. Florence wouldn’t do such a +thing,” said Dodger, warmly.</p> + +<p>“Florence. Is that the way you speak of a young lady?”</p> + +<p>“She tells me to call her Florence. I used to call her Miss +Florence, but she didn’t care for it.”</p> + +<p>“It seems you two have become very intimate,” said Curtis, +with a sneer.</p> + +<p>“Florence is a good friend to me. I never had so good a friend +before.”</p> + +<p>“All that is very affecting; however, it isn’t to the point. +Do you know,” he continued, in a sterner tone, “that I could +have you arrested for entering and breaking open my uncle’s desk with +burglarious intent?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you could,” said Dodger; “but Florence +would testify that I took nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Am I to understand, then, that you refuse to give me any +information as to the will and the money?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; I don’t refuse. I would tell you if I +knew.”</p> + +<p>Curtis regarded the boy in some perplexity.</p> + +<p>He had every appearance of telling the truth.</p> + +<p>Dodger had one of those honest, truthful countenances which lend +confirmation to any words spoken. If the boy told the truth, what could +have become of the will—and the money? As to the former, it might be +possible that his uncle had destroyed it, but the disappearance of the +money presented an independent difficulty.</p> + +<p>“The will is all I care for,” he said, at length. “The +thief is welcome to the money, though there was a considerable +sum.”</p> + +<p>“I would find the will for you if I could,” said Dodger, +earnestly.</p> + +<p>“You are positive you didn’t give it to Bolton?”</p> + +<p>“Positive, sir. I haven’t seen Tim since that +night.”</p> + +<p>“You may be speaking the truth, or you may not. I will talk with +you again to-morrow,” and Curtis arose from his chair.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to keep me here?” said Dodger, in +alarm.</p> + +<p>“I shall be obliged to do so.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t stay!” exclaimed Dodger, in excitement, and +he ran to the door, meaning to get out; but Curtis drew a pistol from his +pocket and aimed it at the boy.</p> + +<p>“Understand me, boy,” he said, “I am in earnest, and I +am not to be trifled with.”</p> + +<p>Dodger drew back, and Curtis opened the door and went out, bolting it +after him.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XIX.<br/> +An Attempt To Escape.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">While</span> Dodger had no discomfort to complain of, +it occurred to him that Florence would be alarmed by his long absence, for +now it seemed certain that he would have to remain overnight.</p> + +<p>If only he could escape he would take care not to fall into such a trap +again.</p> + +<p>He went to the window and looked out, but the distance to the ground was +so great—for the room was on the third floor—that he did not +dare to imperil his life by attempting a descent.</p> + +<p>If there had been a rope at hand he would not have felt afraid to make +the attempt.</p> + +<p>He examined the bed to see if it rested upon cords, but there were slats +instead.</p> + +<p>As has already been said, there were no houses near by.</p> + +<p>That part of the city had not been much settled, and it was as solitary +as it is in the outskirts of a country village.</p> + +<p>If he could only reveal his position to some person outside, so as to +insure interference, he might yet obtain his freedom.</p> + +<p>With this thought he tore a blank leaf from one of the books in the +room, and hastily penciled the following lines:</p> + +<p class="note">“I am kept a prisoner in this house. I was induced to come here by +a trick. Please get some one to join you, and come and demand my +release.”</p> + +<p>Some weeks before Dodger could not have written so creditable a note, +but he had greatly improved since he had been under the influence and +instruction of Florence.</p> + +<p>Dodger now posted himself at the window and waited anxiously for some +one to pass, so that he might attract his attention and throw down the +paper.</p> + +<p>He had to wait for fifteen minutes. Then he saw approaching a young man, +not far from twenty-one, who looked like a young mechanic, returning from +his daily work.</p> + +<p>Now was Dodger’s opportunity. He put his head out of the window +and called out:</p> + +<p>“Hello, there!”</p> + +<p>The young man looked and saw him at the window.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Catch this paper, and read what there is on it.” He threw +down the leaf, which, after fluttering in the gentle evening breeze, found +its way to the ground and was picked up.</p> + +<p>After reading it, the young man looked up and said: “I’ll go +around to the door and inquire.”</p> + +<p>He was as good as his word. He went to the outer door and rang the +bell.</p> + +<p>Julius came to the door.</p> + +<p>“What’s wanted, boss?” he said.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got a boy locked up in a room.”</p> + +<p>“Who told you, boss?”</p> + +<p>“He threw down a paper to me, telling me he was kept a +prisoner.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” asked Julius.</p> + +<p>The young man read the note aloud.</p> + +<p>“What have to say to that, you black imp?” he demanded, +sternly.</p> + +<p>The ready wit of Julius served him in this emergency.</p> + +<p>“Dat boy is crazy as a loon, boss!” he answered, readily. +“We have to keep him shut up for fear he’ll kill some of +us.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say!” ejaculated the young mechanic. +“He don’t look like it.”</p> + +<p>“No, he don’t; dat’s a fact, boss. Fact is, dat boy is +the artfullest lunytick you ever seed. He tried to kill his mother last +week.”</p> + +<p>“Is that true?”</p> + +<p>“Dat’s so, boss. And all de while he looks as innocent as a +baby. If I was to let him out he’d kill somebody, sure.”</p> + +<p>“I never would have believed it,” said the young man.</p> + +<p>“If you want to take the risk, boss, you might go up and see him. +I believe he’s got a carvin’-knife about him, but I don’t +dare to go up and get it away. It would be as much as this niggah’s +life is worth.”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered the young man, hastily. “I don’t +want to see him. I never did like crazy folks. I’m sorry I gave you +the trouble to come to the door.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no trouble, boss.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I’ve fixed dat boy!” chuckled Julius. +“Ho, ho! he can’t get ahead of old Julius! Crazy as a loon, ho, +ho!”</p> + +<p>Dodger waited anxiously for the young man to get through his interview. +He hoped that he would force his way up to the third floor, draw the bolt, +and release him from his imprisonment.</p> + +<p>He kept watch at the window, and when the young man reappeared, he +looked at him eagerly. “Did you ask them to let me out?” he +shouted. The other looked up at him with an odd expression of suspicion and +repulsion.</p> + +<p>“You’re better off where you are,” he said, rather +impatiently.</p> + +<p>“But they have locked me up here.”</p> + +<p>“And reason enough, too!”</p> + +<p>“What makes you say that?”</p> + +<p>“Because you’re crazy as a loon.”</p> + +<p>“Did the black man say that?” inquired Dodger, +indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he did—said you tried to kill your mother, and had a +carving-knife hidden in the room.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a lie—an outrageous lie!” exclaimed +Dodger, his eyes flashing.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go into one of your tantrums,” said the man, +rather alarmed; “it won’t do any good.”</p> + +<p>“But I want you to understand that I am no more crazy than you +are.”</p> + +<p>“Sho? I know better. Where’s your carving-knife?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t got any; I never had any. That negro has been +telling you lies. Just go to the door again, and insist on seeing +me.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t dast to. You’d stab me,” said the +man, fearfully.</p> + +<p>“Listen to me!” said Dodger, getting out of patience. +“I’m not crazy. I’m a newsboy and baggage-smasher. An old +man got me to bring his valise here, and then locked me up. Won’t you +go around to the station-house and send a policeman here?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see about it,” said the young man, who did not +believe a word that Dodger had said to him.</p> + +<p>“He won’t do it!” said Dodger to himself, in a tone of +discouragement. “That miserable nigger has made him believe I am a +lunatic. I’ll have him up, anyway.”</p> + +<p>Forthwith he began to pound and kick so forcibly, that Julius came +upstairs on a run, half inclined to believe that Dodger had really become +insane.</p> + +<p>“What do you want, boy?” he inquired from outside the +door.</p> + +<p>“I want you to unbolt the door and let me out.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t do it, nohow,” said Julius. “It +would be as much as my place is worth.”</p> + +<p>“I will give you a dollar—five dollars—if you will +only let me out. The man who brought me here is a bad man, who is trying to +cheat his cousin—a young lady—out of a fortune.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know nothin’ ’bout that,” said +Julius.</p> + +<p>“He has no right to keep me here.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know nothin’ ’bout that, either. +I’m actin’ accordin’ to orders.”</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said Dodger, bethinking himself of what had +just happened. “Did you tell that young man who called here just now +that I was crazy?”</p> + +<p>Julius burst into a loud guffaw.</p> + +<p>“I expect I did,” he laughed. “Said you’d got a +long carvin’-knife hid in de room.”</p> + +<p>“What made you lie so?” demanded Dodger, sternly.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t get rid of him no other way. Oh, how scared he +looked when I told him you tried to kill your mother.”</p> + +<p>And the negro burst into another hearty laugh which exasperated Dodger +exceedingly.</p> + +<p>“How long is Mr. Waring going to keep me here? Did he tell +you?” Dodger asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>“No; he didn’t say.”</p> + +<p>“When is he coming here again?”</p> + +<p>“Said he’d come to-morrow most likely.”</p> + +<p>“Will you bring me a light?”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t do it. You’d set the house on +fire.”</p> + +<p>It seemed useless to prolong the conversation.</p> + +<p>Dodger threw himself on the bed at an early hour, but he did not +undress, thinking there might possibly be a chance to escape during the +night.</p> + +<p>But the morning came and found him still a prisoner, but not in the +solitary dwelling.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XX.<br/> +A Midnight Ride.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Curtis Waring</span> had entrapped Dodger for a double +purpose.</p> + +<p>It was not merely that he thought it possible the boy had the will, or +knew where it was. He had begun to think of the boy’s presence in New +York as dangerous to his plans.</p> + +<p>John Linden might at any time learn that the son, for whose appearance +he had grieved so bitterly, was still living in the person of this street +boy. Then there would be an end of his hopes of inheriting the estate.</p> + +<p>Only a few months more and the danger would be over, for he felt +convinced that his uncle’s tenure of life would be brief. The one +essential thing, then, seemed to be to get Dodger out of the city.</p> + +<p>The first step had already been taken; what the next was will soon +appear.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had Dodger failed in his attempt to obtain outside assistance +when an unaccountable drowsiness overcame him, considerably to his +surprise.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what’s come to me,” he said to +himself. “It can’t be more than seven or eight o’clock, +and yet I feel so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open. I haven’t +worked any harder than usual to-day, and I can’t understand +it.”</p> + +<p>Dodger had reason to be surprised, for he didn’t usually retire +till eleven o’clock.</p> + +<p>In a city like New York, where many of the streets are tolerably well +filled even at midnight, people get in the way of sitting up much later +than in the country, and Dodger was no exception to this rule.</p> + +<p>Yet here he was ready to drop off to sleep before eight o’clock. +To him it was a mystery, for he did not know that the cup of tea which he +had drunk at supper had been drugged by direction of Curtis Waring, with an +ulterior purpose, which will soon appear.</p> + +<p>“I may as well lie down, as there is nothing else to do,” +thought Dodger. “There isn’t much fun sitting in the dark. If I +can sleep, so much the better.”</p> + +<p>Five minutes had scarcely passed after his head struck the pillow, when +our hero was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>At eleven o’clock a hack stopped in front of the house, and Curtis +Waring descended from it.</p> + +<p>“Stay here,” he said to the driver. “There will be +another passenger. If you are detained I will make it right when I come to +pay you.”</p> + +<p>“All right, sir,” said the hackman. “I don’t +care how long it is if I am paid for my time.”</p> + +<p>Curtis opened the door with a pass-key, and found Julius dozing in a +chair in the hall.</p> + +<p>“Wake up, you sleepy-head,” he said. “Has anything +happened since I left here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; the boy tried to get away.”</p> + +<p>“Did he? I don’t see how he could do that. You kept the door +bolted, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; but he throwed a piece of paper out’n de window, +sayin’ he was kep’ a prisoner here. A young man picked it up, +and came to de house to ax about it.”</p> + +<p>Curtis looked alarmed.</p> + +<p>“What did you say?” he inquired, apprehensively.</p> + +<p>“Told him de boy was crazy as a loon—dat he tried to kill +his mother las’ week, and had a carvin’-knife hid in his +room.”</p> + +<p>“Good, Julius! I didn’t give you credit for such a fertile +imagination.</p> + +<p>“What’s dat, massa?” asked Julius, looking +puzzled.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know you were such a skillful liar.”</p> + +<p>“Yah! yah!” laughed Julius, quite comprehending this +compliment. “I reckon I can twis’ de trufe pretty well, Massa +Curtis!”</p> + +<p>“You have done well, Julius,” said Curtis, approvingly. +“Here’s a dollar!”</p> + +<p>The negro was quite effusive in his gratitude.</p> + +<p>“What did the young man say?”</p> + +<p>“He looked scared. I tol’ him he could go up and see de boy +if he wasn’t afeared of the carvin’-knife, but he said he +guessed he wouldn’t—he didn’t like crazy +folks.”</p> + +<p>Curtis laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>“So it all ended as it should. Did the boy make any more +trouble?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he pounded and kicked till I had to go up and see what was +the matter. I didn’t give him no satisfaction, and I guess he went to +bed.”</p> + +<p>“He ought to be in a deep sleep by this time. I will go up and +see. Go up with me, Julius, for I may have to ask you to help me bring him +down.”</p> + +<p>Though Julius was naturally a coward, he felt quite brave when he had +company, and he at once went upstairs with Curtis Waring.</p> + +<p>Curtis drew the bolt, and, entering the chamber, his glance fell upon +Dodger, fast asleep on the bed.</p> + +<p>“I am glad the boy did not undress,” he said. “It will +save me a great deal of trouble. Now, Julius, you can take his feet and I +will lift his head, and we will take him downstairs.”</p> + +<p>“S’pos’n he wakes up, Massa Curtis?”</p> + +<p>“He won’t wake up. I took care the sleeping potion should be +strong enough to produce profound slumber for eighteen hours.”</p> + +<p>“Seems as if he was dead,” said Julius, nervously.</p> + +<p>“Tush, you fool! He’s no more dead than you or I.”</p> + +<p>The hackman looked curious when the two men appeared with their sleeping +burden, and Curtis felt that some explanation was required.</p> + +<p>“The boy has a very painful disease,” he said, “and +the doctor gave him a sleeping draught. He is going abroad for his health, +and, under the circumstances, I think it best not to wake him up. Drive +slowly and carefully to Pier No. —, as I don’t want the boy +aroused if it can be helped.”</p> + +<p>“All right, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Julius, you may lock the door and come with me. I shall need your +help to get him on board the ship.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Massa Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“And, mind you, don’t go to sleep in the carriage, you black +rascal!” added Curtis, as he saw that the negro found it hard to keep +his eyes open.</p> + +<p>“All right, massa, I’ll keep awake. How am I to get +home?”</p> + +<p>“I will instruct the hackman to take you home.”</p> + +<p>“Yah, yah; I’ll be ridin’ like a gentleman!”</p> + +<p>The journey was successfully accomplished, but it took an hour, for, +according to directions, the hackman did not force his pace, but drove +slowly, till he reached the North River pier indicated.</p> + +<p>At the pier was a large, stanch vessel—the +<i>Columbia</i>—bound for San Francisco, around Cape Horn.</p> + +<p>All was dark, but the second officer was pacing the deck.</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring hailed him.</p> + +<p>“What time do you get off?”</p> + +<p>“Early to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“So the captain told me. I have brought you a +passenger.”</p> + +<p>“The captain told me about him.”</p> + +<p>“Is his stateroom ready?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. You are rather late.”</p> + +<p>“True; and the boy is asleep, as you will see. He is going to make +the voyage for his health, and, as he has been suffering some pain, I +thought I would not wake him up. Who will direct me to his +stateroom?”</p> + +<p>The mate summoned the steward, and Dodger, still unconscious, was +brought on board and quietly transferred to the bunk that had been prepared +for him.</p> + +<p>It was a critical moment for poor Dodger, but he was quite unconscious +of it.</p> + +<p>“What is the boy’s name?” asked the mate.</p> + +<p>“Arthur Grant. The captain has it on his list. Is he on +board?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but he is asleep.”</p> + +<p>“I do not need to see him. I have transacted all necessary +business with him—and paid the passage money. Julius, bring the +valise.”</p> + +<p>Julius did so.</p> + +<p>“This contains the boy’s clothing. Take it to the stateroom, +Julius.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Massa Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“What is your usual time between New York and San +Francisco?” asked Curtis, addressing the mate.</p> + +<p>“From four to six months. Four months is very short, six months +very long. We ought to get there in five months, or perhaps a little +sooner, with average weather.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. I believe there is no more to be said. +Good-night!”</p> + +<p>“Good-night, sir.”</p> + +<p>“So he is well out of the way for five months!” soliloquized +Curtis. “In five months much may happen. Before that time I hope to +be in possession of my uncle’s property. Then I can snap my fingers +at fate.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXI.<br/> +A Seasick Passenger.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">The</span> good ship <i>Columbia</i> had got fifty +miles under way before Dodger opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>He looked about him languidly at first, but this feeling was succeeded +by the wildest amazement, as his eyes took in his unusual surroundings.</p> + +<p>He had gone to sleep on a bed—he found himself on awakening in a +ship’s bunk.</p> + +<p>He half arose in his birth, but the motion of the vessel and a slight +feeling of dizziness compelled him to resume a recumbent position.</p> + +<p>“I must be dreaming,” thought Dodger. “It’s very +queer. I am dreaming I am at sea. I suppose that explains it.”</p> + +<p>He listened and heard the swish of the waters as they beat against the +sides of the vessel.</p> + +<p>He noted the pitching of the ship, and there was an unsteady feeling in +his head, such as those who have gone to sea will readily recall.</p> + +<p>Dodger became more and more bewildered.</p> + +<p>“If it’s a dream, it’s the most real dream I ever +had,” he said to himself.</p> + +<p>“This seems like a ship’s cabin,” he continued, +looking about him. “I think if I got up I should be seasick. I wonder +if people ever get seasick in dreams?”</p> + +<p>There was another pitch, and Dodger instinctively clung to the edge of +his berth, to save himself from being thrown out.</p> + +<p>“Let me see,” he said, trying to collect his scattered +recollection. “I went to sleep in a house uptown—a house to +which Curtis Waring lured me, and then made me a prisoner. The house was +somewhere near One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street. Now it seems as if I +was on board a ship. How could I get here? I wish somebody would come in +that I could ask.”</p> + +<p>As no one came in, Dodger got out of the berth, and tried to stand on +the cabin floor.</p> + +<p>But before he knew it he was staggering like one intoxicated, and his +head began to feel bad, partly, no doubt, on account of the sleeping potion +which he had unconsciously taken.</p> + +<p>At this moment the steward entered the cabin. “Hello, young man! +Have you got up?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Where am I?” asked Dodger, looking at him with a dazed +expression.</p> + +<p>“Where are you? You’re on the good ship <i>Columbia</i>, +to be sure?”</p> + +<p>“Are we out to sea?”</p> + +<p>“Of course you are.”</p> + +<p>“How far from land?”</p> + +<p>“Well, about fifty miles, more or less, I should judge.”</p> + +<p>“How long have I been here?”</p> + +<p>“It seems to me you have a poor memory. You came on board last +evening.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose Curtis Waring brought me,” said Dodger, beginning +to get his bearings.</p> + +<p>“There was a gentleman came with you—so the mate told me. I +don’t know his name.”</p> + +<p>“Where is the ship bound?”</p> + +<p>“To San Francisco, around Cape Horn. I supposed you knew +that.”</p> + +<p>“I never heard of the ship <i>Columbia</i> before, and I never +had any idea of making a sea voyage.”</p> + +<p>The steward looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“I suppose your guardian arranged about that. Didn’t he tell +you?”</p> + +<p>“I have no guardian.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ll have to ask Capt. Barnes about that. I know +nothing, except that you are a passenger, and that your fare has been +paid.”</p> + +<p>“My fare paid to San Francisco?” asked Dodger, more and more +at sea, both mentally and physically.</p> + +<p>“Yes; we don’t take any deadheads on the +<i>Columbia</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me what time it is?”</p> + +<p>“About twelve o’clock. Do you feel hungry?”</p> + +<p>“N—not very,” returned Dodger, as a ghastly expression +came over his face, and he tumbled back into his berth, looking very +pale.</p> + +<p>The steward smiled.</p> + +<p>“I see how it is,” he said; “you are getting +initiated.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” muttered Dodger, feebly.</p> + +<p>“You’re going to be seasick. You’ll hardly be able to +appear at the dinner table.”</p> + +<p>“It makes me sick to think of eating,” said Dodger, +feebly.</p> + +<p>As he sank back into his berth, all thoughts of his unexpected position +gave way to an overpowering feeling of seasickness.</p> + +<p>He had never been tried in this way before, and he found the sensation +far from agreeable.</p> + +<p>“If only the vessel would stop pitching,” he groaned. +“Oh, how happy I should be if I were on dry land.”</p> + +<p>But the vessel wouldn’t stop—even for a minute.</p> + +<p>The motion, on the other hand, seemed to increase, as was natural, for +they were getting farther and farther from land and were exposed to the +more violent winds that swept the open ocean.</p> + +<p>There is something about seasickness that swallows up and draws away all +minor cares and anxieties, and Dodger was too much affected to consider how +or why it was that he so unexpectedly found himself a passenger to +California.</p> + +<p>“Lie flat on your back,” said the steward. “You will +feel better if you do.”</p> + +<p>“How long is it going to last?” groaned Dodger, feeling +quite miserable.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ll feel better to-morrow. I’ll bring you some +porridge presently. You can get that down, and it is better to have +something on your stomach.”</p> + +<p>He was right. The next day Dodger felt considerably better, and ventured +to go upon deck. He looked about him in surprise.</p> + +<p>There had been a storm, and the waves were white with foam.</p> + +<p>As far as the eye could see there was a tumult and an uproar.</p> + +<p>The ship was tossed about like a cockle shell. But the sailors went +about their work unruffled. It was no new sight for them.</p> + +<p>Though his head did not feel exactly right, the strong wind entered +Dodger’s lungs, and he felt exhilarated. His eyes brightened, and he +began to share in the excitement of the scene.</p> + +<p>Pacing the deck was a stout, bronzed seaman, whose dress made it clear +even to the inexperienced eyes of Dodger that he was the captain.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning, Master Grant,” he said, pleasantly. +“Are you getting your sea legs on?”</p> + +<p>The name was unfamiliar to Dodger, but he could see that the remark was +addressed to him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Ever been to sea before?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll get used to it. Bless me, you’ll stand it like +an old sailor before we get to ’Frisco.”</p> + +<p>“Is it a long voyage, captain?” asked Dodger.</p> + +<p>“Five months, probably. We may get there a little sooner. It +depends on the winds and weather.”</p> + +<p>“Five months,” said Dodger to himself, in a tone of +dismay.</p> + +<p>The captain laughed.</p> + +<p>“It’ll be a grand experience for a lad like you, +Arthur!” said the captain, encouragingly.</p> + +<p>Arthur! So his name was Arthur! He had just been called Master Grant, so +Arthur Grant was his name on board ship.</p> + +<p>Dodger was rather glad to have a name provided, for he had only been +known as Dodger heretofore, and this name would excite surprise. He had +recently felt the need of a name, and didn’t see why this +wouldn’t answer his purpose as well as any other.</p> + +<p>“I must write it down so as not to forget it,” he resolved. +“It would seem queer if I forgot my own name.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t enjoy it much if I were going to be seasick all +the time,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Oh, a strong, healthy boy like you will soon be all right. You +don’t look like an invalid.”</p> + +<p>“I never was sick in my life.”</p> + +<p>“But your guardian told me he was sending you on a sea voyage for +your health.”</p> + +<p>“Did Mr. Waring say that?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; didn’t you know the object of your sea trip?” +asked Capt. Barnes, in surprise.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“There may be some tendency to disease in your system—some +hereditary tendency,” said the captain, after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Were your parents healthy?”</p> + +<p>“They—died young,” answered Dodger, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>“That accounts for your guardian’s anxiety. However, you +look strong enough, in all conscience; and if you’re not healthy, you +will be before the voyage ends.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I am to do for clothes,” said +Dodger, as a new source of perplexity presented itself. “I +can’t get along with one shirt and collar for five months.”</p> + +<p>“You will find plenty of clothes in your valise. Hasn’t it +been given you?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You may ask the steward for it. You didn’t think your +guardian would send you on a five-months’ voyage without a change of +clothing, did you?”</p> + +<p>And the captain laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know Mr. Waring very well,” said Dodger, +awkwardly.</p> + +<p>As he went downstairs to inquire about his valise, this question haunted +him:</p> + +<p>“Why did Curtis Waring send him on a sea voyage?”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXII.<br/> +The Other Passenger.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Dodger</span> sought the steward, and asked for his +valise.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it in your stateroom?” asked that +functionary.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t seen it.”</p> + +<p>“I remember now. It was put with the luggage of the other +passenger. I will show it to you.”</p> + +<p>He took Dodger to a part of the ship where freight was stored, and +pointed to a sizable valise with a card attached to it on which was +inscribed the name: “Arthur Grant.”</p> + +<p>“This must be yours,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Dodger, glad to have found out +the new name which had been given him, otherwise he would have supposed the +valise belonged to some other person.</p> + +<p>He took the valise to his stateroom, and, finding a key tied to the +handles, he opened it at once.</p> + +<p>It proved to contain a very fair supply of underclothing, socks, +handkerchiefs, etc., with a tooth brush, a hair brush and comb, and a +sponge. Never in his life had Dodger been so well supplied with clothing +before. There were four white shirts, two tennis shirts, half a dozen +handkerchiefs and the same number of socks, with three changes of +underclothing.</p> + +<p>“I begin to feel like a gentleman,” said Dodger to himself, +complacently.</p> + +<p>That was not all. At the bottom of the valise was an envelope, sealed, +on which was inscribed the name: “Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“That is for me, at any rate,” thought our hero. “I +suppose it is from Curtis Waring.”</p> + +<p>He opened the envelope, and found inclosed twenty-five dollars in bills, +with a few lines written on a half-sheet of paper. These Dodger read, with +interest and curiosity. They were as follows:</p> + +<p class="note">“<span class="sc">Dodger</span>:—The money +inclosed is for you. When you reach California you will find it of use. +I have sent you out there because you will find in a new country a better +chance to rise than in the city of New York. I advise you to stay there +and grow up with the country. In New York you were under the influence +of a bad man, from whom it is best that you should be permanently separated. +I know something of the early history of Tim Bolton. He was detected in a +crime, and fled to escape the consequences. You are not his son, but his +nephew. Your mother was his sister, but quite superior to himself. Your +right name is Arthur Grant, and it will be well for you to assume it +hereafter. I have entered you in the list of passengers under that name.</p> + +<p class="note">“I thought you had taken the will from my uncle’s +desk, but I am inclined to think you had nothing to do with it. If you know +where it is, or whether Bolton has it, I expect you to notify me in return +for the money I have expended in your behalf. In that case you can write +to me, No. — Madison Avenue.</p> +<p class="sig">“Curtis Waring.”</p> + +<p>Dodger read the letter over twice, and it puzzled him.</p> + +<p>“He seems from the letter to take an interest in me,” he +soliloquized. “At any rate, he has given me money and clothes, and +paid my passage to California. What for, I wonder? I don’t believe it +is to get me away from the bad influence of Tim. There must be some other +reason.”</p> + +<p>There was another part of the letter with which Dodger did not +agree.</p> + +<p>Curtis asserted positively that he was the nephew of Tim Bolton, while +he was positive that there was no relationship between them.</p> + +<p>In that case Curtis must have been an early acquaintance of Tim’s. +At any rate, he seemed to know about his past life.</p> + +<p>Dodger now comprehended his present situation fully. He was a passenger +on the ship <i>Columbia</i>, and there was no chance of leaving it. He had +ascertainel on inquiry that the vessel would not put in anywhere, but would +make the long voyage direct. It would be over four months, at any rate, +before he could communicate with Florence, and in the meantime, she and +Mrs. O’Keefe, whom he recognized as a good friend, would conclude +that he was dead.</p> + +<p>It was very provoking to think that he could not even telegraph, as that +would relieve all anxiety, and he felt sure that Florence was enough his +friend to feel anxious about him.</p> + +<p>He had just closed up his valise, when a young man of dark complexion +and of an attractive, intellectual expression, entered the cabin.</p> + +<p>He nodded pleasantly to Dodger, and said:</p> + +<p>“I suppose this is Arthur Grant?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Dodger, for he had decided to adopt the +name.</p> + +<p>“We ought to become close friends, for we are, I believe, the only +passengers.”</p> + +<p>“Then you are a passenger, too?” said Dodger, deciding, +after a brief scrutiny, that he should like his new acquaintance.</p> + +<p>“Yes. My name is Randolph Leslie. I have been, for the last five +years, a reporter on leading New York daily papers, and worked so closely +that my health has become somewhat affected. My doctor recommended a sea +voyage, and I have arranged for a pretty long one.”</p> + +<p>“What papers have you worked for?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, all the leading ones—<i>Tribune, World, Herald,</i> +and <i>Sun</i>—sometimes one, and sometimes another. Your reason for +taking this trip can hardly be the same as mine. You don’t look as if +your health required you to travel.”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Dodger, smiling; “but I understand that +the gentleman who engaged my passage said I was going to sea for my +health.”</p> + +<p>“If I were as robust as you, I shouldn’t give much thought +to my health. Do you intend to remain in California?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I do intend,” replied Dodger. +“I didn’t know I was going to California at all until I woke up +in my stateroom.”</p> + +<p>The young man looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you know the destination of the vessel when you came +on board?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I was brought aboard in my sleep.”</p> + +<p>“This is curious. It looks to me as if you had a story to +tell.</p> + +<p>“Of course, I don’t want to be curious, but if there is +anyway in which I can help you, by advice, or in any other way, I am quite +ready to do so.”</p> + +<p>Dodger paused, but only briefly. This young man looked friendly, and +might help him to penetrate the mystery which at present baffled him.</p> + +<p>At any rate, his experience qualified him to give friendly advice, and +of this Dodger felt that he stood in need.</p> + +<p>“I ought to tell you, to begin with,” he said, “that I +am a poor boy, and made my living as best I could, by carrying baggage, +selling papers, etc.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think any the worse of you for that. Did you live +at the lodging houses?”</p> + +<p>“No; until lately I lived with a man who keeps a saloon on the +Bowery, and tended bar for him.”</p> + +<p>“What was his name? As a reporter I know the Bowery pretty +well.”</p> + +<p>“Tim Bolton.”</p> + +<p>“Tim Bolton? I know his place well. I think I must have seen you +there. Your face looked familiar to me as soon as I set eyes on +you.”</p> + +<p>“Very likely. A good many people came into Tim’s. I +couldn’t pretend to remember them all.”</p> + +<p>“Was Tim a relative of yours?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he was. I always thought that he got hold +of me when I was a kid. I don’t remember the time when I wasn’t +with him.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have always lived in New York?”</p> + +<p>“No; I lived for several years in Australia. Tim was in the same +business there. I came on with him a year or more since.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think you ever lived in New York before?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; Tim has told me that I was born in New York.”</p> + +<p>“I understand that you have left Tim now?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Why, may I ask?”</p> + +<p>“Because I didn’t like the business he was in. But I liked +it better than the one he wanted me to go into.”</p> + +<p>“What was that?”</p> + +<p>“Burglary.”</p> + +<p>The young reporter started in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “this is a new tack for Tim. However, +I never looked upon him as a man who would shrink from any violation of the +laws, except murder. I don’t think he would do that.”</p> + +<p>“No; Tim isn’t quite so bad. He isn’t the worst man +alive, though he is a rather hard customer. It was his wanting me to enter +a house on Madison Avenue and open a desk that led to me going on this +trip.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me about it, if you don’t mind.”</p> + +<p>Thus invited, Dodger told his story to Randolph Leslie, keeping nothing +back.</p> + +<p>He finished by showing him the letter he had found in the valise.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXIII.<br/> +Through The Golden Gate.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Well,</span> this is certainly a remarkable +letter,” said the reporter, as he handed it back to Dodger. “I +am at a loss to understand the interest which this man appears to feel in +you.”</p> + +<p>“I look upon him as my enemy,” said Dodger. “But an +enemy doesn’t spend so much money upon another as he has.”</p> + +<p>“Unless he has object in it,” amended Leslie, shrewdly. +“Do you know of any connection this man has with you?”</p> + +<p>“No; I never heard of him until I entered his house,” and +Dodger flushed as he thought that his entrance into the mansion on Madison +Avenue had been as a burglar.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me that he knows more about you than you do about +him. It also seems to me that he is anxious to get you out of New York, +the farther the better.”</p> + +<p>“But what harm could I do him in New York?” asked Dodger, +puzzled.</p> + +<p>“That is the question which I cannot answer. You say he was +instrumental in getting his Cousin Florence out of the house?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he wanted to marry her.”</p> + +<p>“And she would not consent?”</p> + +<p>“No; I think she hates him.”</p> + +<p>“How old is she?”</p> + +<p>“Seventeen.”</p> + +<p>“And he?”</p> + +<p>“He looks about thirty-five.”</p> + +<p>“The difference in years isn’t great enough to constitute an +obstacle, provided she loved him. I am thirty years old.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure Florence would prefer you to Curtis Waring.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t flatter me. I am vain enough already. The time may +come when I may ask your good offices with Miss Linden. What I was about to +ask was: Is Miss Linden also entitled to a share in her uncle’s +estate?”</p> + +<p>“She is just as nearly related to him as Mr. Waring.”</p> + +<p>“Then I can understand his wishing to get rid of her. I +don’t know why he should want to send you to a distance. I suppose +there can’t be any relationship?”</p> + +<p>“Is it likely that I—a poor street boy—should be +related to a rich man like Mr. Linden?”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t seem likely, I admit,” said Leslie, +musingly. “Well, I suppose,” he continued, after a pause, +“there is no use in speculating about the matter now. The important +point is, what are we to do with ourselves during the four or five months +we must spend on shipboard?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I can do,” said Dodger. “I +can’t sell papers, and I can’t smash baggage.”</p> + +<p>“And there appears to be no need of your doing either, as you are +provided with board and lodging till we reach shore.”</p> + +<p>“That seems strange to me, for I’ve always had to hustle for +a living.”</p> + +<p>“I was about to make a proposal to you. But first let me ask you +about your education. I suppose you are not an accomplished +scholar?”</p> + +<p>“I’m about as ignorant as they make ’em,” +answered Dodger, drolly. “Tim was afraid to send me to college, for +fear I’d get to know too much for my business.”</p> + +<p>“Tending bar does not require an acquaintance with Latin and +Greek. Would you like to know more?”</p> + +<p>“I wish I did. Florence was teaching me nights when I was in New +York. Now I’ve got to give up all that.”</p> + +<p>“Not necessarily. Listen to me, Arthur. Before I came to New +York to go into journalism, I taught school for two years; and I believe I +may say that I was tolerably successful. Suppose I take you as a +scholar?”</p> + +<p>“I should like it very much, Mr. Leslie, but I’m afraid I +haven’t got money enough to pay you.”</p> + +<p>“That is true. You will need all the money you have when you land +in California. Twenty-five dollars won’t go far—still you have +all the money that is necessary, for I do not intend to charge you +anything.”</p> + +<p>“You are very kind to me, Mr. Leslie, considerin’ you +don’t know me,” said Dodger, gratefully.</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, I think I know you very well. But about the +kindness—my motives are somewhat mixed. I should like to do you a +service, but I should also like to find employment for myself that will +make the days less monotonous. I have a collection of books in my trunk, +enough for our needs, and if you will agree we will commence our studies +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I should like it very much. I’d like to show Florence, when +I see her, that I have improved. Till I saw her I didn’t care much, +but when I talk with her I feel awfully ignorant.”</p> + +<p>“In four months a great deal can be accomplished. I don’t +know how quick you are to learn. After we have had one or two lessons I can +judge better.”</p> + +<p>Two days later Mr. Leslie pronounced his opinion, and a favorable +one.</p> + +<p>“You have not exaggerated your ignorance,” he said to +Dodger. “You have a great deal to learn, but on the other hand you +are quick, have a retentive memory, and are very anxious to learn. I shall +make something of you.”</p> + +<p>“I learn faster with you than with Florence,” said +Dodger.</p> + +<p>“Probably she would succeed better with girls, but I hold that a +male teacher is better for boys. How long are you willing to study every +day?”</p> + +<p>“As long as you think best.”</p> + +<p>“Then we will say from two to three hours. I think you have talent +for arithmetic. I don’t expect to make you fit for a bookkeeper, but +I hope to make you equal to most office boys by the time we reach San +Francisco. What do you intend to do in California?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I should like to go back to New York, but I +shall not have money enough.”</p> + +<p>“No; twenty-five dollars would go but a little way toward the +passage. Evidently Mr. Waring did not intend to have you return, or he +would have provided you with more.”</p> + +<p>“That is just why I should like to go back. I am afraid he will do +some harm to Florence.”</p> + +<p>“And you would like to be on hand to protect her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Randolph Leslie smiled.</p> + +<p>“You seem to take a great deal of interest in Florence, if I may +make as free with her name as you do.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I do, Mr. Leslie.”</p> + +<p>“If you were only a little older I might suspect the nature of +that interest.”</p> + +<p>“I am older than she is.”</p> + +<p>“In years, yes. But a young lady of seventeen, brought up as she +has been, is older by years than a boy of eighteen. I don’t think you +need apprehend any harm to Miss Linden, except that Mr. Waring may cheat +her out of her rightful share of the inheritance. Is her uncle in good +health?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; he is a very feeble man.”</p> + +<p>“Is he an old man?”</p> + +<p>“Not so very old. I don’t believe he is over +sixty.”</p> + +<p>Really Mr. Linden was but fifty-four, but, being a confirmed invalid, he +looked older.</p> + +<p>“Should you say that he was likely to live very long?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Dodger. “He looks as if you could knock +him over with a feather. Besides, I’ve heard Florence say that she +was afraid her uncle could not live long.”</p> + +<p>“Probably Curtis Waring is counting upon this. If he can keep +Florence and her uncle apart for a few months, Mr. Linden will die, and he +will inherit the whole estate. What is this will he speaks of in the letter +you showed me?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Whatever the provisions are, it is evident that he thinks it +important to get it into his possession. If favorable to him, he will keep +it carefully. If unfavorable, I think a man like him would not hesitate to +suppress it.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt you are right, sir. I don’t know much about +wills,” said Dodger.</p> + +<p>“No; I suppose not. You never made any, I suppose,” remarked +the reporter, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“I never had nothing to leave,” said Dodger.</p> + +<p>“Anything would be a better expression. As your tutor I feel it +incumbent upon me to correct your grammar.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would, Mr. Leslie. What do you mean to do when you get +to San Francisco?”</p> + +<p>“I shall seek employment on one of the San Farncisco daily papers. +Six months or a year so spent will restore my health, and enable me to live +without drawing upon my moderate savings.”</p> + +<p>“I expect I shall have to work, too, to get money to take me back +to New York.”</p> + +<p>And now we must ask the reader to imagine four months and one week +passed.</p> + +<p>There had been favorable weather on the whole, and the voyage was +unusually short.</p> + +<p>Dodger and the reporter stood on deck, and with eager interest watched +the passage through the Golden Gate. A little later and the queen city of +the Pacific came in sight, crowning the hill on which a part of the city is +built, with the vast Palace Hotel a conspicuous object in the +foreground.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXIV.<br/> +Florence In Suspense.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">We</span> must now return to New York to +Dodger’s old home.</p> + +<p>When he did not return at the usual hour, neither Florence nor Mrs. +O’Keefe was particularly disturbed.</p> + +<p>It was thought that he had gone on some errand of unusual length, and +would return an hour or two late.</p> + +<p>Eight o’clock came, the hour at which the boy was accustomed to +repair to Florence’s room to study, and still he didn’t make +his appearance.</p> + +<p>“Dodger’s late this evening, Mrs. O’Keefe,” said +Florence, going up to the room of her landlady.</p> + +<p>“Shure he is. It’s likely he’s gone to Brooklyn or up +to Harlem, wid a bundle. He’ll be comin’ in soon.”</p> + +<p>“I hope he will be well paid for the errand, since it keeps him so +long.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so, too, Florence, for he’s a good boy, is Dodger. +Did I tell you how he served the rapscallion that tried to stale my apples +the other day?”</p> + +<p>“No; I would like to hear it.”</p> + +<p>“A big, black-bearded man came along, and asked me for an +apple.</p> + +<p>“ ‘You can have one for two pennies,’ says I.</p> + +<p>“ ‘But I haven’t got them,’ says he.</p> + +<p>“ ‘Then you must go widout it,’ says I.</p> + +<p>“ ‘We’ll see about that,’ says he.</p> + +<p>“And what do you think?—the fellow picked out one of my +biggest apples, and was walkin’ away! That made me mad.</p> + +<p>“ ‘Come back, you thafe of the worruld!’ says I.</p> + +<p>“ ‘Silence, you old hag!’ says he.</p> + +<p>“Actilly he called me an old hag! I wanted to go after him, but +there was two hoodlums hangin’ round, and I knew they’d carry +off some of my apples, when, just as I was at my wits’ end, Dodger +came round the corner.</p> + +<p>“ ‘Dodger,’ I screamed, ‘go after that man! +He’s taken one of my apples, widout lave or license!’</p> + +<p>“Upon that, Dodger, brave as a lion, walked up to the man, and, +says he:</p> + +<p>“ ‘Give back that apple, or pay for it!’</p> + +<p>“ ‘What’s that to you, you impudent young +rascal?’ says the man, raisin’ the apple to his mouth. But he +didn’t get a chance to bite it, for Dodger, with a flip of his hand, +knocked it on the sidewalk, and picked it up.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t the man mad just?”</p> + +<p>“ ‘I’ll smash you, boy,’ he growled.</p> + +<p>“ ‘I’m a baggage-smasher myself,’ says Dodger, +‘and I can smash as well as you.’</p> + +<p>“Wid that the man up with his fist and struck at Dodger, but he +dodged the blow, and gave him one for himself wid his right. Just then up +came a cop.</p> + +<p>“ ‘What’s all this?’ says he.</p> + +<p>“ ‘That man tried to run off wid one of my apples,’ +says I.</p> + +<p>“ ‘Come along,’ says the cop. ‘You’re +wanted at the station-house.’</p> + +<p>“ ‘It’s a lie,’ says the man. ‘I paid the +woman for the apple, and that young rascal knocked it out of my +hand.’</p> + +<p>“ ‘I know the boy,’ says the cop, ‘and he +ain’t one of that kind. I’ll let you go if you buy five apples +from the lady, and pay for ’em.’</p> + +<p>“The man made up an ugly face, but he didn’t want to be +locked up, and so he paid me a dime for five apples.”</p> + +<p>“Dodger is very brave,” said Florence. “Sometimes I +think he is too daring. He is liable to get into trouble.”</p> + +<p>“If he does he’ll get himself out of it, never you fear. +Dodger can take care of himself.”</p> + +<p>Nine o’clock came, and Florence became alarmed. She had not been +aware how much she had depended upon the company of her faithful friend, +humble as his station was.</p> + +<p>Again she went into Mrs. O’Keefe’s room. The apple-woman had +been out to buy some groceries and had just returned.</p> + +<p>“I am getting anxious about Dodger,” said Florence. +“It is nine o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“And what’s nine o’clock for a boy like him? Shure +he’s used to bein’ out at all hours of the night.”</p> + +<p>“I shall feel relieved when he comes home. What should I do +without him?”</p> + +<p>“Shure I’d miss him myself; but it isn’t the first +time he has been out late.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps that terrible Tim Bolton has got hold of him,” +suggested Florence.</p> + +<p>“Tim isn’t so bad, Florence. He isn’t fit company for +the likes of you, but there’s worse men nor Tim.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t he send out Dodger to commit a burglary?”</p> + +<p>“And if he hadn’t you’d never made Dodger’s +acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true; but it doesn’t make burglary any more +excusable. Don’t you really think Tim Bolton has got hold of +him?”</p> + +<p>“If he has, he won’t keep him long, I’ll make oath of +that. He might keep him over night, but Dodger would come back in the +morning.”</p> + +<p>Florence was somewhat cheered by Mrs. O’Keefe’s refusal to +believe that Dodger was in any serious trouble, but she could not wholly +free herself from uneasiness. When eleven o’clock came she went to +bed very unwillingly, and got very little rest during the night. Morning +came, and still Dodger did not show up. As we know, he was fairly started +on his long voyage, though he had not yet recovered consciousness.</p> + +<p>Florence took a very light breakfast, and at the usual time went to Mrs. +Leighton’s to meet her pupil. When the study hour was over, she did +not remain to lunch, but hurried back, stopping at Mrs. +O’Keefe’s apple-stand just as that lady was preparing to go +home to prepare dinner.</p> + +<p>“Have you seen anything of Dodger, Mrs. O’Keefe?” +asked Florence, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t, Florence. I’ve had my eye out +watchin’ for him, and he hasn’t showed up.”</p> + +<p>“Is there anything we can do?” asked Florence, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Well, we might go around and see Tim—and find out whether +he’s got hold of him.”</p> + +<p>“Let us go at once.”</p> + +<p>“Shure I didn’t know you cared so much for the boy,” +said Mrs. O’Keefe, with a shrewd look at Florence’s anxious +face.</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t I care for him? He is my only +friend.”</p> + +<p>“Is he now? And what’s the matter wid Bridget +O’Keefe?” asked the apple-woman.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, Mrs. O’Keefe. I know very well you are my +friend, and a kind friend, too. I should not have forgotten you.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, Florence. You’re flustrated like, and +that’s why you forget me.”</p> + +<p>“I have so few friends that I can’t spare one,” +continued Florence.</p> + +<p>“That’s so. Come along wid me, and we’ll see what Tim +has to tell us.”</p> + +<p>A short walk brought the two strangely assorted companions to the +entrance of Tim Bolton’s saloon. “I’m afraid to go in, +Mrs. O’Keefe,” said Florence.</p> + +<p>“Come along wid me, my dear, I won’t let anything harm you. +You ain’t used to such a place, but I’ve been here more than +once to fill the growler. Be careful as you go down the steps, +Florence.”</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton was standing behind the bar, and as he heard steps he looked +carelessly toward the entrance, but when he saw Florence, his indifference +vanished. He came from behind the bar, and advanced to meet her.</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden,” he said.</p> + +<p>Florence shrank back and clung to her companion’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Is there anything I can do for you? I am a rough man, but +I’m not so bad as you may think.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I told her, Tim,” said Mrs. +O’Keefe. “I told Florence there was worse men than +you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mrs. O’Keefe. Can I offer you a glass of +whiskey?”</p> + +<p>The apple-woman was about to accept, but she felt an alarmed tug at her +arm, and saw that Florence would be placed in an embarrassing position if +she accepted. So, by an exercise of self-denial—for Mrs. +O’Keefe was by no means insensible to the attractions of whiskey, +though she never drank to excess—she said:</p> + +<p>“Thank you kindly, Mr. Bolton. I won’t take any just now; +but I’ll remind you of your offer another day.”</p> + +<p>“Have it your own way, Mrs. O’Keefe. And now, what can I do +for you and Miss Linden?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Bolton,” broke in Florence, unable to bear the +suspense longer, “where is Dodger?”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXV.<br/> +Finding The Clew.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Tim Bolton</span> looked at Florence in undisguised +astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Dodger!” he repeated. “How should I know? I supposed +that you had lured him away from me.”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t like the business you were in. He preferred to +make a living in some other way.”</p> + +<p>“Then why do you ask me where he is?”</p> + +<p>“Because he did not come home last night. Shure he rooms at my +house,” put in Mrs. O’Keefe, “and he hasn’t showed +up since——”</p> + +<p>“And you thought I might have got hold of him?” said Bolton, +inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“Then you are mistaken. I haven’t seen the boy for +weeks.”</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton spoke so straightforwardly that there was no chance to doubt +his word.</p> + +<p>“When he was living with you, Mr. Bolton,” continued +Florence, “did he ever stay away like this?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Bolton. “Dodger was always very regular +about comin’ home.”</p> + +<p>“Then something must have happened to him,” said Florence, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“He might have got run in,” suggested the apple-woman. +“Some of them cops is mighty officious.”</p> + +<p>“Dodger would never do anything to deserve arrest,” Florence +said, quickly.</p> + +<p>“Thrue for you, Florence, but some innersent parties are nabbed. I +know of one young man who was standin’ on a strate corner +waitin’ for the cars, when a cop came up and arristed him for +disorderly conduct.”</p> + +<p>“But that is shameful!” said Florence, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Thrue for you, my dear. We might go round to the police +headquarters and inquire if the boy’s been run in.”</p> + +<p>“What do you think, Mr. Bolton?” asked Florence.</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton seemed busy thinking. Finally he brought down his hand +forcibly on the bar, and said: “I begin to see through it.”</p> + +<p>Florence did not speak, but she fixed an eager look of inquiry on the +face of the saloon-keeper.</p> + +<p>“I believe Curtis Waring is at the bottom of this,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“My cousin!” exclaimed Florence, in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Yes, your cousin, Miss Linden.”</p> + +<p>“But what can he have against poor Dodger! Is it because the boy +has taken my part and is a friend to me?”</p> + +<p>“He wouldn’t like him any better on account of that; but he +has another and a more powerful reason.”</p> + +<p>“Would you mind telling me what it is? I cannot conceive what it +can be.”</p> + +<p>“At present,” answered Bolton, cautiously, “I prefer +to say nothing on the subject. I will only say the boy’s +disappearance interferes with my plans, and I will see if I can’t +find out what has become of him.”</p> + +<p>“If you only will, Mr. Bolton, I shall be so grateful. I am afraid +I have misjudged you. I thought you were an enemy of +Dodger’s.”</p> + +<p>“Then you were mistaken. I have had the boy with me since he was a +kid, and though I’ve been rough with him at times, maybe, I like him, +and I may some time have a chance to show him that old Tim Bolton is one of +his best friends.”</p> + +<p>“I will believe it now, Mr. Bolton,” said Florence, +impulsively, holding out her hand to the burly saloon-keeper.</p> + +<p>He was surprised, but it was evident that he was pleased, also, and he +took the little hand respectfully in his own ample palm, and pressed it in +a friendly manner.</p> + +<p>“There’s one thing more I want you to believe, Miss +Linden,” he said, “and that is, that I am your friend, +also.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Bolton. And now let us all work together to find +Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“You can count on me, Miss Linden. If you’ll tell me where +you live I’ll send or bring you any news I may hear.”</p> + +<p>“I live with Mrs. O’Keefe, my good friend, here.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t my kyard with me, Tim,” said the +apple-woman, “but I’ll give you my strate and number. You know +my place of business?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“If you come to me there I’ll let Florence know whatever you +tell me. She is not always at home.”</p> + +<p>The two went away relieved in mind, for, helpless and bewildered as they +were, they felt that Tim Bolton would make a valuable ally.</p> + +<p>When they had gone Tim turned to Hooker and Briggs, who were lounging at +a table, waiting for some generous customer to invite them to the bar.</p> + +<p>“Boys,” said Tim, “has either of you seen anything of +Dodger lately?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered the two in unison.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard anything of him?”</p> + +<p>“I heard that he was baggage-smashin’ down by the steamboat +landings,” said Hooker.</p> + +<p>“Go down there, both of you, and see if you can see or hear +anything of him.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Tim.”</p> + +<p>And the two left the saloon and took a westerly route toward the North +River piers.</p> + +<p>Three hours later they returned.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard anything?” asked Bolton. “Did you see +Dodger?”</p> + +<p>“No; we didn’t see him.”</p> + +<p>“But you heard something?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; we found a boy, a friend of his, that said the last he saw +of Dodger was last evenin’.”</p> + +<p>“Where did he see him?”</p> + +<p>“Near the pier of the Albany boats.”</p> + +<p>“What was he doin’?”</p> + +<p>“Carryin’ a valise for a man.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of a man? How did he look?”</p> + +<p>“He had gray hair and gray whiskers.”</p> + +<p>Tim was puzzled by the description.</p> + +<p>If, as he suspected, Curtis were concerned in the abduction, this man +could not have been he.</p> + +<p>“The man was a passenger by the Albany boat, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“No; that was what looked queer. Before the Albany boat came in +the man was lyin’ round with his valise, and the boy thought he was +goin’ off somewhere. But when the boat came in he just mixed in with +the passengers, and came up to the entrance of the pier. Two boys asked to +carry his valise, but he shook his head till Dodger came round, and he +engaged him right off.”</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton nodded knowingly.</p> + +<p>“It was a plan,” he said. “The man wanted to get hold +of Dodger. What puzzles me is, that you said he was an old man.”</p> + +<p>“His hair and beard were gray.”</p> + +<p>“And Curtis has no beard, and his hair is black.”</p> + +<p>“But the boy said he didn’t look like an old man, except the +hair. He walked off like a young man.”</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton’s face lighted up with sudden intelligence.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bet a hat it was Curtis in disguise,” he +soliloquized.</p> + +<p>“That’s all we could find out, Mr. Bolton,” said +Briggs, with another longing look at the bar.</p> + +<p>“It is enough! You have earned your whiskey. Walk up, +gentlemen!”</p> + +<p>Hooker and Briggs needed no second invitation.</p> + +<p>“Will either of you take a note for me to Mrs. O’Keefe? For +another drink, of course.”</p> + +<p>“I will, Tim,” said Hooker, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“No; take me, Mr. Bolton,” entreated Briggs.</p> + +<p>“You can both go,” said Tim, generously. “Wait a +minute, and I’ll have it ready for you.”</p> + +<p>He found a half sheet of note paper, and scribbled on it this +message:</p> + +<p class="note">“<span class="sc">Mrs. O’Keefe</span>:—Tell +Miss Linden that I have a clew. I am almost surtin her cozen has got away +with Dodger. He won’t hurt him, but he will get him out of the city. +Wen I hear more I will right.</p> + +<p class="sig">“T. Bolton.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXVI.<br/> +Bolton Makes A Discovery.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">I see</span> it all,” Bolton said to +himself, thoughtfully. “Curtis Waring is afraid of the boy—and +of me. He’s circumvented me neatly, and the game is his—so far +my little plan is dished. I must find out for certain whether he’s +had anything to do with gettin’ Dodger out of the way, and then, Tim +Bolton, you must set your wits to work to spoil his little game.”</p> + +<p>Bolton succeeded in securing the services of a young man who had +experience at tending bar, and about eight o’clock, after donning his +best attire, he hailed a Fourth Avenue surface car and got aboard.</p> + +<p>Getting out at the proper street, he made his way to Madison Avenue, and +ascended the steps of John Linden’s residence.</p> + +<p>The door was opened by Jane, who eyed the visitor with no friendly +glance.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” she asked, in a hostile tone.</p> + +<p>“Is Mr. Waring at home?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“Is Miss Florence at home?”</p> + +<p>“Do you know her?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes; I am a friend of hers.”</p> + +<p>Jane evidently thought that Florence must have made some queer +friends.</p> + +<p>“Have you seen her lately?” she asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I saw her to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Is she well?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; she is well, but she is in trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Is she—— Does she need any money?”</p> + +<p>“No; it isn’t that. The boy Dodger has disappeared, and she +is afraid something has happened to him.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am so sorry! He was a good friend of Miss +Florence.”</p> + +<p>“I see you know him. I am trying to help him and her.”</p> + +<p>“But you asked for Mr. Waring?” said Jane, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“So I did. Shall I tell you why?”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would.”</p> + +<p>“I think he has something to do with gettin’ Dodger out of +the way, and I’m goin’ to try to find out.”</p> + +<p>“He won’t tell you.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t understand. I shall make him think I am on his +side. Was he at home last night?”</p> + +<p>“He went away at dinner time, and he didn’t come home till +after twelve. I ought to know, for he forgot his latchkey, and I had to get +up and let him in. I won’t do it again. I’ll let him stay out +first.”</p> + +<p>“I see; he was with Dodger, no doubt. Did you say he was +in?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; but he will be in directly. Won’t you step into +the library?”</p> + +<p>“Shall I meet the old gentleman there?” asked Bolton, in a +tone of hesitation.</p> + +<p>“No. He goes up to his chamber directly after dinner.”</p> + +<p>“How is he?”</p> + +<p>“I think he’s failing.”</p> + +<p>“I hope there is no immediate danger,” said Bolton, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“No; but he’s worrying about Miss Florence. It’s my +belief that if she were at home, he’d live a good while.”</p> + +<p>“Doesn’t he ask for her?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Curtis tells him she’ll come round soon if he’ll +only be firm. I don’t see, for my part, why Mr. Linden wants her to +marry such a disagreeable man. There’s plenty better husbands she +could get. Come in, sir, and I’ll tell him as soon as he comes in. +Shall you see Miss Florence soon?”</p> + +<p>“I think so.”</p> + +<p>“Then tell her not to give up. Things will come right some +time.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell her.”</p> + +<p>Bolton was ushered into the library, where, amid the fashionable +furniture he looked quite out of place. He did not feel so, however, for he +drew a cigar out of his pocket and, lighting it nonchalantly, leaned back +in a luxurious armchair and began to smoke.</p> + +<p>“Curtis Waring is well fixed—that’s a fact!” he +soliloquized. “I suppose he is the master here, for the old man +isn’t likely to interfere. Still he will like it better when his +uncle is out of the way.”</p> + +<p>He had to wait but fifteen minutes in solitude, for at the end of that +time Curtis Waring appeared.</p> + +<p>He paused on the threshold, and frowned when he saw who it was that +awaited him.</p> + +<p>“Jane told me that a gentleman was waiting to see me,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Well, she was right.”</p> + +<p>“And you, I suppose, are the gentleman?” said Curtis, in a +sneering tone.</p> + +<p>“Yes; I am the gentleman,” remarked Bolton, coolly.</p> + +<p>“I am not in the habit of receiving visits from gentlemen of your +class. However, I suppose you have an object in calling.”</p> + +<p>“It shall go hard with me if I don’t pay you for your sneers +some day,” thought Bolton; but he remained outwardly unruffled.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he answered, “I can’t say that I have +any particular business to see you about. I saw your cousin +recently.”</p> + +<p>“Florence?” asked Curtis, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“What did she say? Did you speak with her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. She doesn’t seem any more willin’ to marry +you.”</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring frowned.</p> + +<p>“She is a foolish girl,” he said. “She doesn’t +know her own mind.”</p> + +<p>“She looks to me like a gal that knows her own mind particularly +well.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! what can you know about it?”</p> + +<p>“Then you really expect to marry her some time, Mr. +Waring?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly I do.”</p> + +<p>“And to inherit your uncle’s fortune?”</p> + +<p>“Of course. Why not?”</p> + +<p>“I was thinkin’ of the boy.”</p> + +<p>“The boy is dead——”</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Bolton, jumping to his feet in +irresistible excitement.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a fool. Wait till I finish my sentence. He is dead +so far as his prospects are concerned. Who is there that can identify him +with the lost child of John Linden?”</p> + +<p>“I can.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; if any one would believe you. However, it is for your +interest to keep silent.”</p> + +<p>“That is just what I want to know. I suppose you can make it for +my interest.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and will—after I get the property. I don’t +believe in counting my chickens before they are hatched.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you know that the boy has left me?” said +Bolton.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Curtis, indifferently. “He is with my +cousin, I believe.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and through her I can learn where he is, and get hold of him +if I desire.”</p> + +<p>A cynical smile played over the face of Curtis Waring.</p> + +<p>“Do you propose to get him back?” he asked, shrugging his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I am right,” thought Bolton, shrewdly. “From his +manner it is easy to see that Curtis is quite at ease as regards Dodger. He +knows where he is!”</p> + +<p>“You asked me what business I came about, Mr. Waring,” he +said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I am devoted to your interests, but is it quite fair to +make me wait till you come into your fortune before allowing me +anything?”</p> + +<p>“I think so.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t seem to consider that I can bring the boy here +and make him known to your uncle as the son he lost so long ago?”</p> + +<p>“You are quite sure you can bring the boy here?” asked +Curtis.</p> + +<p>“Why not? I have only to go to Florence and ask her to send the +boy to me.”</p> + +<p>“You are quite at liberty to do so if you like, Tim Bolton,” +said Curtis, with a mocking smile. “I am glad, at any rate, that you +have shown me what is in your mind. You are very sharp, but you are not +quite so sharp as I am.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand you.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will be more explicit. It’s out of your power to +make use of the boy against me, +because——”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Because he is not in the city.”</p> + +<p>“Where is he, then?”</p> + +<p>“Where you are not likely to find him.”</p> + +<p>“If you have killed him——” Bolton began, but +Curtis interrupted him.</p> + +<p>“The boy is safe—I will tell you that much,” he said; +“but for reasons which you can guess, I think it better that he +should be out of New York. When the proper time comes, and all is safe, +he may come back, but not in time to help you in your cunning plans, Mr. +Tim Bolton.”</p> + +<p>“Then, I suppose,” said Bolton, assuming an air of +mortification and discomfiture, “it is no use for me to remain here +any longer.”</p> + +<p>“You are quite right. I wish you a pleasant journey home. Give my +love to Florence when you see her.”</p> + +<p>“That man is a fiend!” soliloquized Bolton, as he walked +back, leisurely, to his place of business. “Let me get hold of Dodger +and I will foil him yet!”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXVII.<br/> +Dodger Strikes Luck.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">When</span> Dodger landed in San Francisco, in spite +of the fact that he had made the journey against his will, he felt a +natural exhilaration and pleasure in the new and striking circumstances and +scenes in which he found himself placed.</p> + +<p>It was in the year 1877, and the city was by no means what it is now. +Yet it probably contained not far from two hundred thousand people, lively, +earnest, enterprising. All seemed busy and hopeful, and Dodger caught the +contagion.</p> + +<p>As he walked with the reporter to a modest hotel, where the rates were a +dollar and a half a day, not far from Montgomery Street, Randolph Leslie +asked:</p> + +<p>“How do you like San Francisco thus far, Arthur?”</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that Dodger, feeling that the name by which he had +hitherto been known was hardly likely to recommend him, adopted the one +given him by Curtis Waring.</p> + +<p>“I think I shall like it ever so much,” answered Dodger. +“Everybody seems to be wideawake.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think you will like it better than New York?”</p> + +<p>“I think a poor boy will have more of a chance of making a living +here. In New York I was too well known. If I got a place anywhere some one +would recognize me as Tim Bolton’s boy—accustomed to tend +bar—or some gentleman would remember that he had bought papers of me. +Here nobody knows me, and I can start fair.”</p> + +<p>“There is a great deal in what you say,” returned Leslie. +“What do you think of trying to do?”</p> + +<p>“First of all I will write a letter to Florence, and tell her I am +all right. How long does it take a letter to go from here to New +York?”</p> + +<p>“About seven days.”</p> + +<p>“And it took us over four months! That seems wonderful.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; there is a great difference between coming by sea around +Cape Horn and speeding across the country on an express train.”</p> + +<p>“If I could only know how Florence is getting along,” Dodger +said, anxiously. “I suppose she thinks I am dead.”</p> + +<p>“You forget the letter you gave to the vessel we spoke off the +coast of Brazil.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but do you think it went straight?”</p> + +<p>“The chances are in favor of it. However, your idea is a good one. +Write, by all means, and then we will discuss future plans.”</p> + +<p>“What are your plans, Mr. Leslie?”</p> + +<p>“I shall try to secure a reporter’s berth on one of the +daily papers—the <i>Call</i> or <i>Chronicle</i>. I will wait a few +days, however, as I have a few hundred dollars by me, and can afford to +take a little time to look around.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I were as well provided; but I have less than twenty-five +dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry about that, Arthur,” said Randolph, +laying his hand affectionately on the boy’s shoulder. “I shall +not allow you to want.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Leslie,” said Dodger, gratefully. +“It’s something new to me to have a friend like you. But I +don’t want to be any expense to you. I am large enough and strong +enough to earn my own living.”</p> + +<p>“True; and I feel sure you will have a chance in this enterprising +city.”</p> + +<p>They bought copies of the day’s papers, and Dodger looked eagerly +over the advertising columns.</p> + +<p>At length he saw an advertisement that read as follows:</p> + +<p class="note">WANTED—A young man of 18 or 20 to assist in the office +of a local express. Inquire at No. — —— St.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I would answer for such a place?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why not. At any rate, ‘nothing venture, +nothing gain.’ You may as well go around and inquire. And, by the +way, as your suit is rather shabby, let me lend you one of mine. We are of +nearly the same size.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Leslie.”</p> + +<p>“Fine feathers make fine birds, you know, and a neat dress always +increases the chances of an applicant for employment, though, when it is +carried too far, it is apt to excite suspicion. I remember a friend of mine +advertised for a bookkeeper. Among the applicants was a young man wearing a +sixty-dollar suit, a ruffled shirt, a handsome gold watch and a diamond +pin. He was a man of taste, and he was strongly impressed with the young +man’s elegant appearance. So, largely upon the strength of these, he +engaged him, and in less than six months discovered that he had been +swindled to the extent of eight hundred dollars by his æsthetic +bookkeeper.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will leave my diamond pin at home,” said Dodger, +smiling. “Suppose they ask me for recommendations?”</p> + +<p>“I will go with you and indorse you. I happen to know one or two +prominent gentlemen in San Francisco—among them the president of a +bank—and I presume my indorsement will be sufficient.”</p> + +<p>Dodger went back to the hotel, put on a suit of Mr. Leslie’s, got +his boots blacked, and then, in company with the young reporter, went to +the express office.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid some one will have been engaged already,” said +the reporter; “but if not, your chances will be good.”</p> + +<p>They entered a good-sized office on a prominent street, and Dodger +inquired for Mr. Tucker.</p> + +<p>A small man of about forty, keen-eyed and alert, eyed him +attentively.</p> + +<p>“I am Mr. Tucker,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I saw your advertisement for an assistant, Mr. Tucker,” +said Dodger, modestly; “have you filled the place?”</p> + +<p>“Let me see,” said Tucker, reflectively, “you are the +ninth young man who has applied—but the place is still +open.”</p> + +<p>“Then I am afraid you won’t want me, as you have rejected so +many.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. How long have you been in the +city?”</p> + +<p>“I only just arrived.”</p> + +<p>“Where from?”</p> + +<p>“From New York.”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea of going to the mines when you get money +enough?”</p> + +<p>“I think I would prefer to remain in the city.”</p> + +<p>“Good! How is your education?”</p> + +<p>“I have never been to college,” answered Dodger, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>“Good! I don’t care for your college men. I am a practical +man myself.”</p> + +<p>“I am a poor scholar, but Mr. Leslie tells me I write a fair +hand.”</p> + +<p>“Let me see a specimen of your writing.”</p> + +<p>Now Dodger had taken special pains on the voyage to improve his +penmanship, with excellent results.</p> + +<p>So it happened that the specimen which he furnished had the good fortune +to please Mr. Tucker.</p> + +<p>“Good!” he said. “You will, a part of the time, be +taking orders. Your handwriting is plain and will do. Never mind about +Latin and Greek. You won’t need it. Chinese would be more serviceable +to you here. When can you go to work?”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow morning. To-day, if necessary,” answered Dodger, +promptly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tucker seemed pleased with his answer.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow morning let it be, then! Hours are from eight in the +morning till six at night.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Your wages will be fifteen dollars a week. How will that suit +you?”</p> + +<p>Dodger wanted to indulge in a loud whoop of exultation, for fifteen +dollars was beyond his wildest hopes; but he was too politic to express his +delight. So he contented himself with saying:</p> + +<p>“I shall be quite satisfied with that.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, by the way, I suppose I ought to have some reference,” +said Mr. Tucker, “though as a general thing I judge a good deal by +outward appearance.”</p> + +<p>“I can refer you to my friend, Mr. Leslie, here.”</p> + +<p>“And who will indorse him?” asked the expressman, +shrewdly.</p> + +<p>Leslie smiled.</p> + +<p>“I see, Mr. Tucker, you are a thorough man of business. I +can refer you to Mr. ——, president of the —— Bank +in this city.”</p> + +<p>“That is sufficient, sir. I am sure you would not refer me to him +unless you felt satisfied that he would speak favorably of you. I +won’t, therefore, take the trouble to inquire. Where are you +staying?”</p> + +<p>“At the Pacific Hotel; but we shall take a private apartment +within a day or two.”</p> + +<p>As they passed out of the office, Randolph Leslie said:</p> + +<p>“You’ve done splendidly, Arthur.”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t I? I feel like a millionaire.”</p> + +<p>“As you are to go to work to-morrow, we may as well take up a room +at once. It will be cheaper.”</p> + +<p>In a short time they had engaged a neat suite of rooms, two in number, +not far from the Palace Hotel, at twenty dollars per month.</p> + +<p>The next day Leslie procured a position on the San Francisco +<i>Chronicle</i>, at twenty-five dollars per week.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXVIII.<br/> +Florence Receives A Letter.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">The</span> discovery, through Tim Bolton, that Curtis +Waring had a hand in the disappearance of Dodger, partially relieved the +anxiety of Florence—but only partially.</p> + +<p>He might be detained in captivity, but even that was far better than an +accident to life or limb.</p> + +<p>She knew that he would try to get word to her at the earliest +opportunity, in order to relieve her fears.</p> + +<p>But week after week passed, and no tidings came.</p> + +<p>At length, at the end of ten weeks, a note came to her, written on a +rough sheet of paper, the envelope marked by a foreign stamp.</p> + +<p>It ran thus:</p> + +<p class="note">“<span class="sc">Dear Florence</span>:—I am +sure you have worried over my disappearance. Perhaps you thought I was +dead, but I was never better in my life. I am on the ship <i>Columbia</i>, +bound for San Francisco, around Cape Horn; and just now, as one of the +officers tells me, we are off the coast of Brazil.</p> + +<p class="note">“There is a ship coming north, and we are going to +hail her and give her letters to carry home, so I hope these few lines will +reach you all right. I suppose I am in for it, and must keep on to San +Francisco. But I haven’t told you yet how I came here.</p> + +<p class="note">“It was through a trick of your cousin, Curtis Waring. +I haven’t time to tell you about it; but I was drugged and brought +aboard in my sleep; when I woke up I was forty miles at sea.</p> + +<p class="note">“Don’t worry about me, for I have a good friend +on board, Mr. Randolph Leslie, who has been a reporter on one of the New York +daily papers. He advises me to get something to do in San Francisco, and work +till I have earned money enough to get home. He says I can do better there, +where I am not known, and can get higher pay. He is giving me lessons every +day, and he says I am learning fast.</p> + +<p class="note">“The ship is almost here, and I must stop. Take good +care of yourself, and remember me to Mrs. O’Keefe, and I will write +you again as soon as I get to San Francisco.</p> + +<p class="sig">“Dodger.</p> + +<p class="note">“P. S.—Don’t let on to Curtis that you +have heard from me, or he might try to play me some trick in San +Francisco.”</p> + +<p>Florence’s face was radiant when she had read the letter.</p> + +<p>Dodger was alive, well, and in good spirits. The letter arrived during +the afternoon, and she put on her street dress at once and went over to the +apple-stand and read the letter to Mrs. O’Keefe.</p> + +<p>“Well, well!” ejaculated the apple-woman. “So +it’s that ould thafe of the worruld, Curtis Waring, that has got hold +of poor Dodger, just as Tim told us. It seems mighty quare to me that he +should want to stale poor Dodger. If it was you, now, I could understand +it.”</p> + +<p>“It seems strange to me, Mrs. O’Keefe,” said Florence, +thoughtfully. “I thought it might be because Dodger was my friend, +but that doesn’t seem to be sufficient explanation. Don’t you +think we ought to show this letter to Mr. Bolton?”</p> + +<p>“I was going to suggest that same. If you’ll give it to me, +Florence, I’ll get Mattie to tend my stand, and slip round wid it to +Tim’s right off.”</p> + +<p>“I will go with you, Mrs. O’Keefe.”</p> + +<p>Mattie, who was playing around the corner, was summoned.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mattie, just mind the stand, and don’t be +runnin’ away, or them boys will get away wid my whole mornin’s +profits. Do you hear?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, mum.”</p> + +<p>“And don’t you be eatin’ all the while you are here. +Here’s one apple you can have,” and the apple-woman carefully +picked out one that she considered unsalable.</p> + +<p>“That’s specked, Mrs. O’Keefe,” objected +Mattie.</p> + +<p>“And what if it is? Can’t you bite out the specks? The rest +of the apple is good. You’re gettin’ mighty +particular.”</p> + +<p>Mattie bit a piece out of the sound part of the apple, and, when Mrs. +O’Keefe was at a safe distance, gave the rest to a lame bootblack, +and picked out one of the best apples for her own eating.</p> + +<p>“Bridget O’Keefe is awful mane wid her apples!” +soliloquized Mattie, “but I’m too smart for her. Tryin’ +to pass off one of her old specked apples on me! If I don’t take +three good one I’m a sinner.”</p> + +<p>Arrived at the front of the saloon, Mrs. O’Keefe penetrated the +interior, and met Tim near the door.</p> + +<p>“Have you come in for some whiskey, old lady?” asked Tim, in +a jesting tone.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take that by and by. Florence is outside, and +we’ve got some news for you.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t she come in?”</p> + +<p>“No; she don’t like to be seen in a place like this. +She’s got a letter from Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean it!” ejaculated Tim, with sudden +interest. “Where is he?”</p> + +<p>“Come out and see.”</p> + +<p>“Good afternoon, Miss Linden,” said Tim, gallantly. +“So you’ve news from Dodger?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; here is the letter.”</p> + +<p>Bolton read it through attentively.</p> + +<p>“Curtis is smart,” he said, as he handed it back. “He +couldn’t have thought of a better plan for getting rid of the boy. It +will take several months for him to reach ’Frisco, and after that he +can’t get back, for he won’t have any money.”</p> + +<p>“Dodger says he will try to save money enough to pay his way +back.”</p> + +<p>“It will take him a good while.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t take long to come back by cars, does +it?”</p> + +<p>“No; but it costs a great deal of money. Why, it may take Dodger a +year to earn enough to pay his way back on the railroad.”</p> + +<p>“A year!” exclaimed Florence, in genuine +dismay—“a year, in addition to the time it takes to go out +there! Where will we all be at the end of that time?”</p> + +<p>“Not in jail, I hope,” answered Bolton, jocularly. “I +am afraid your uncle will no longer be in the land of the +living.”</p> + +<p>A shadow came over Florence’s face.</p> + +<p>“Poor Uncle John!” she said, sadly. “It is terrible to +think he may die thinking hardly of me.”</p> + +<p>“Leavin’ his whole fortune to Curtis,” continued +Tim.</p> + +<p>“That is the least thing that troubles me,” said +Florence.</p> + +<p>“A woman’s a queer thing,” said Tim, shrugging his +shoulders. “Here’s a fortune of maybe half a million, and half +of it rightfully yours, and you don’t give it a thought.”</p> + +<p>“Not compared with the loss of my uncle’s +affections.”</p> + +<p>“Money is a great deal more practical than affection.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so, from your standpoint, Mr. Bolton,” said +Florence, with dignity.</p> + +<p>“No offense, miss. When you’ve lived as long as I, +you’ll look at things different. Well, I’m glad to hear from +the lad. If Curtis had done him any harm, I’d have got even with him +if it sent me to jail.”</p> + +<p>A quiet, determined look replaced Tim Bolton’s usual expression of +easy good humor. He could not have said anything that would have +ingratiated him more with Florence.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Bolton,” she said, earnestly. “I shall +always count upon your help. I believe you are a true friend of +Dodger——”</p> + +<p>“And of yours, too, miss——”</p> + +<p>“I believe it,” she said, with a smile that quite captivated +Tim.</p> + +<p>“If it would be any satisfaction to you, Miss Florence,” he +continued, “I’ll give Curtis Waring a lickin’. He +deserves it for persecutin’ you and gettin’ you turned out of +your uncle’s house.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Bolton; it wouldn’t be any satisfaction to +me to see Curtis injured in any way.”</p> + +<p>“You’re too good a Christian, you are, Miss +Florence.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I deserved your praise, but I can hardly lay claim to it. +Now, Mr. Bolton, tell me what can I do to help Dodger?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see that you can do anything now, as it will be +most three months before he reaches ’Frisco. You might write to him +toward the time he gets there.”</p> + +<p>“I will.”</p> + +<p>“Direct to the post office. I think he’ll have sense enough +to ask for letters.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could send him some money. I am afraid he will land +penniless.”</p> + +<p>“If he lands in good health you can trust him for makin’ a +livin’. A New York boy, brought up as he was, isn’t goin’ +to starve where there are papers to sell and errands to run. Why, +he’ll light on his feet in ’Frisco, take my word for +it.”</p> + +<p>Florence felt a good deal encouraged by Tim’s words of assurance, +and she went home with her heart perceptibly lightened.</p> + +<p>But she was soon to have trials of her own, which for the time being +would make her forgetful of Dodger.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXIX.<br/> +Mrs. Leighton’s Party.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Miss Linden</span>,” said Mrs. Leighton, +one day in the fourth month of Dodger’s absence, “Carrie has +perhaps told you that I give a party next Thursday evening.”</p> + +<p>“She told me,” answered the governess.</p> + +<p>“I expected Prof. Bouvier to furnish dancing music—in fact, +I had engaged him—but I have just received a note stating that he is +unwell, and I am left unprovided. It is very inconsiderate on his +part,” added the lady, in a tone of annoyance.</p> + +<p>Florence did not reply. She took rather a different view of the +professor’s letter, and did not care to offend Mrs. Leighton.</p> + +<p>“Under the circumstances,” continued the lady, “it has +occurred to me that, as you are really quite a nice performer, you might +fill his place. I shall be willing to allow you a dollar for the evening. +What do you say?”</p> + +<p>Florence felt embarrassed. She shrank from appearing in society in her +present separation from her family, yet could think of no good excuse. +Noticing her hesitation, Mrs. Leighton added, patronizingly:</p> + +<p>“On second thought, I will pay you a dollar and a +half”—Prof. Bouvier was to have charged ten +dollars—“and you will be kind enough to come in your best +attire. You seem to be well provided with dresses.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam, there will be no difficulty on that score.”</p> + +<p>“Nor on any other, I hope. As governess in my family, I think I +have a right to command your services.”</p> + +<p>“I will come,” said Florence, meekly. She felt that it would +not do to refuse after this.</p> + +<p>As she entered the handsomely decorated rooms on the night of the party, +she looked around her nervously, fearing to see some one whom she had known +in earlier days. She noticed one only—Percy de Brabazon, whose face +lighted up when he saw her, for he had been expecting to see her.</p> + +<p>She managed to convey a caution by a quiet movement, as it would not be +wise for Mrs. Leighton to know of their previous acquaintance. But Percy +was determined to get an opportunity to speak to her.</p> + +<p>“Who is that young lady, Aunt Mary?” he asked. “The +one standing near the piano.”</p> + +<p>“That is Carrie’s governess,” answered Mrs. Leighton, +carelessly.</p> + +<p>“She seems quite a ladylike person.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I understand she has seen better days. She is to play for us +in the absence of Prof. Bouvier.”</p> + +<p>“Will you introduce me, aunt?”</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Mrs. Leighton, with a searching look.</p> + +<p>“I should like to inquire about Carrie’s progress in her +studies,” said the cunning Percy.</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly,” answered the aunt, quite deceived by his +words.</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden,” she said, “let me introduce my nephew, +Mr. de Brabazon. He wishes to inquire about Carrie’s progress in her +studies.”</p> + +<p>And the lady sailed off to another part of the room.</p> + +<p>“I can assure you, Mr. de Brabazon,” said Florence, +“that my young charge is making excellent progress.”</p> + +<p>“I can easily believe it, under your instruction,” said +Percy.</p> + +<p>“I am very glad you take such an interest in your cousin,” +added Florence, with a smile. “It does you great credit.”</p> + +<p>“It’s only an excuse, you know, to get a chance to talk with +you, Miss Linden. May I say Miss Florence?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Florence, decidedly. “It won’t +do. You must be very formal.”</p> + +<p>“Then tell me how you like teaching.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, indeed.”</p> + +<p>“It must be an awful bore, I think.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so. Carrie is a warm-hearted, affectionate +girl. Besides, she is very bright and gives me very little +trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think you could take another pupil, Miss +Linden?”</p> + +<p>“A young girl?”</p> + +<p>“No, a young man. In fact, myself.”</p> + +<p>“What could I teach you, Mr. de Brabazon?”</p> + +<p>“Lots of things. I am not very sound in—in spelling and +grammar.”</p> + +<p>“What a pity!” answered Florence, with mock seriousness. +“I am afraid your aunt would hardly consent to have a boy of your +size in the schoolroom.”</p> + +<p>“Then perhaps you could give me some private lessons in the +afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“That would not be possible.”</p> + +<p>Just then Mrs. Leighton came up.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said, “what does Miss Linden say of +Carrie?”</p> + +<p>“She has quite satisfied my mind about her,” answered Percy, +with excusable duplicity. “I think her methods are excellent. I was +telling her that I might be able to procure her another pupil.”</p> + +<p>“I have no objection, as long as it does not interfere with +Carrie’s hours. Miss Linden, there is a call for music. Will you go +to the piano and play a Stauss waltz?”</p> + +<p>Florence inclined her head obediently.</p> + +<p>“Let me escort you to the piano, Miss Linden,” said +Percy.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” answered Florence, in a formal tone.</p> + +<p>For an hour Florence was engaged in playing waltzes, gallops and +lanciers music. Then a lady who was proud of her daughter’s +proficiency volunteered her services to relieve Florence.</p> + +<p>“Now you can dance yourself,” said Percy, in a low tone. +“Will you give me a waltz?”</p> + +<p>“Not at once. Wait till the second dance.”</p> + +<p>Percy de Brabazon was prompt in presenting himself as soon as permitted, +and he led Florence out for a dance.</p> + +<p>Both were excellent dancers, and attracted general attention.</p> + +<p>Florence really enjoyed dancing, and forgot for a time that she was only +a guest on sufferance, as she moved with rhythmic grace about the handsome +rooms.</p> + +<p>Percy was disposed to prolong the dance, but Florence was cautious.</p> + +<p>“I think I will rest now, Mr. de Brabazon,” she said.</p> + +<p>“You will favor me again later in the evening?” he +pleaded.</p> + +<p>“I hardly think it will be wise.”</p> + +<p>But when, half an hour later, he asked her again, Florence could not +find it in her heart to say no. It would have been wise if she had done so. +A pair of jealous eyes was fixed upon her. Miss Emily Carter had for a +considerable time tried to fascinate Mr. de Brabazon, whose wealth made him +a very desirable match, and she viewed his decided penchant for Florence +with alarm and indignation.</p> + +<p>“To be thrown in the shade by a governess is really too +humiliating!” she murmured to herself in vexation. “If it were +a girl in my own station I should not care so much,” and she eyed +Florence with marked hostility.</p> + +<p>“Mamma,” she said, “do you see how Mr. de Barbazon is +carrying on with Mrs. Leighton’s governess? Really, I think it very +discreditable.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carter looked through her gold eye-glasses at the couple.</p> + +<p>“Is the girl really a governess?” she added. “She is +very well dressed.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know where she got her dress, but she is really a +governess.”</p> + +<p>“She seems very bold.”</p> + +<p>“So she does.”</p> + +<p>Poor Florence! She was far from deserving their unkindly remarks.</p> + +<p>“I suppose she is trying to ensnare young de Brabazon,” said +Emily, spitefully. “People of her class are very artful. Don’t +you think it would be well to call Mrs. Leighton’s attention? Percy +de Brabazon is her nephew, you know.”</p> + +<p>“True. The suggestion is a good one, Emily.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carter was quite as desirous as her daughter of bringing about an +alliance with Percy, and she readily agreed to second her plans.</p> + +<p>She looked about for Mrs. Leighton, and took a seat at her side.</p> + +<p>“Your nephew seems quite attentive to your governess,” she +commenced.</p> + +<p>“Indeed! In what way?”</p> + +<p>“He has danced with her three or four times, I believe. It looks +rather marked.”</p> + +<p>“So it does,” said Mrs. Leighton. “He is quite +inconsiderate.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, it is of no great consequence. She is quite stylish for +a governess, and doubtless your nephew is taken with her.”</p> + +<p>“That will not suit my views at all,” said Mrs. Leighton, +coldly. “I shall speak to her to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Pray don’t. It really is a matter of small +consequence—quite natural, in fact.”</p> + +<p>“Leave the matter with me. You have done quite right in mentioning +it.”</p> + +<p>At twelve o’clock the next day, when Florence had just completed +her lessons with Carrie, Mrs. Leighton entered the room.</p> + +<p>“Please remain a moment, Miss Linden,” she said. “I +have a few words to say to you.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leighton’s tone was cold and unfriendly, and Florence felt +that something unpleasant was coming.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXX.<br/> +Florence Is Followed Home.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">I am</span> listening, madam,” said +Florence, inclining her head.</p> + +<p>“I wish to speak to you about last evening, Miss +Linden.”</p> + +<p>“I hope my playing was satisfactory, Mrs. Leighton. I did my +best.”</p> + +<p>“I have no fault to find with your music. It came up to my +expectations.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad of that, madam.”</p> + +<p>“I referred, rather, to your behavior, Miss Linden.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand you, Mrs. Leighton,” Florence +responded, in unaffected surprise. “Please explain.”</p> + +<p>“You danced several times with my nephew, Mr. Percy de +Brabazon.”</p> + +<p>“Twice, madam.”</p> + +<p>“I understood it was oftener. However, that is immaterial. You +hardly seemed conscious of your position.”</p> + +<p>“What was my position, Mrs. Leighton?” asked Florence, +quietly, looking her employer in the face. “Well—ahem!” +answered Mrs. Leighton, a little ill at ease, “you were a hired +musician.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“And you acted as if you were an invited guest.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry you did not give me instructions as to my +conduct,” said the governess, coldly. “I should not have danced +if I had been aware that it was prohibited.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry, Miss Linden, that you persist in misunderstanding me. +Mr. de Brabazon, being in a different social position from yourself, it +looked hardly proper that he should have devoted himself to you more than +to any other lady.”</p> + +<p>“Did he? I was not aware of it. Don’t you think, under the +circumstances, that he is the one whom you should take to task? I +didn’t invite his attentions.”</p> + +<p>“You seemed glad to receive them.”</p> + +<p>“I was. He is undoubtedly a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly he is. He is my nephew.”</p> + +<p>“It was not my part to instruct him as to what was proper, +surely.”</p> + +<p>“You are very plausible. Miss Linden, I think it right to tell you +that your conduct was commented upon by one of my lady guests as +unbecoming. However, I will remember, in extenuation, that you are +unaccustomed to society, and doubtless erred ignorantly.”</p> + +<p>Florence bowed, but forbore to make any remark.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish to speak further to me, Mrs. Leighton?”</p> + +<p>“No, I think not.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will bid you good-morning.”</p> + +<p>When the governess had left the house, Mrs. Leighton asked herself +whether in her encounter with her governess the victory rested with her, +and she was forced to acknowledge that it was at least a matter of +doubt.</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden is a faithful teacher, but she does not appear to +appreciate the difference that exists between her and my guests. I think, +however, that upon reflection, she will see that I am right in my stricture +upon her conduct.”</p> + +<p>Florence left the house indignant and mortified. It was something new to +her to be regarded as a social inferior, and she felt sure that there were +many in Mrs. Leighton’s position who would have seen no harm in her +behavior on the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Four days afterward, when Florence entered the Madison Avenue car to +ride downtown, she had scarcely reached her seat when an eager voice +addressed her:</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden, how fortunate I am in meeting you!”</p> + +<p>Florence looked up and saw Mr. de Brabazon sitting nearly opposite +her.</p> + +<p>Though she felt an esteem for him, she was sorry to see him, for, with +Mrs. Leighton’s rebuke fresh in her mind, it could only be a source +of embarrassment, and, if discovered, subject her in all probability to a +fresh reprimand.</p> + +<p>“You are kind to say so, Mr. de Brabazon.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all. I hoped I might meet you again soon. What a pleasant +time we had at the party.”</p> + +<p>“I thought so at the time, but the next day I changed my +mind.”</p> + +<p>“Why, may I ask?”</p> + +<p>“Because your aunt, Mrs. Leighton, took me to task for dancing +with you twice.”</p> + +<p>“Was she so absurd?” ejaculated Percy.</p> + +<p>“It is not necessarily absurd. She said our social positions were +so different that it was unbecoming for me to receive attention from +you.”</p> + +<p>“Rubbish!” exclaimed Percy, warmly.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid I ought not to listen to such strictures upon the +words of my employer.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you didn’t have to teach.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t join you in that wish. I enjoy my work.”</p> + +<p>“But you ought to be relieved from the necessity.”</p> + +<p>“We must accept things as we find them,” said Florence, +gravely.</p> + +<p>“There is a way out of it,” said Percy, quickly. +“You understand me, do you not?”</p> + +<p>“I think I do, Mr. de Brabazon, and I am grateful to you, but I am +afraid it can never be.”</p> + +<p>Percy remained silent.</p> + +<p>“How far are you going?” asked Florence, uneasily, for she +did not care to have her companion learn where she lived.</p> + +<p>“I intend to get out at Fourteenth Street.”</p> + +<p>“Then I must bid you good-afternoon, for we are already at +Fifteenth Street.”</p> + +<p>“If I can be of any service to you, I will ride +farther.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said Florence, hastily, “but it is quite +unnecessary.”</p> + +<p>“Then, good morning!”</p> + +<p>And Percy descended from the car.</p> + +<p>In another part of the car sat a young lady, who listened with +sensations far from pleasant to the conversation that had taken place +between Florence and Mr. de Brabazon.</p> + +<p>It was Emily Carter, whose jealousy had been excited on the evening of +the party. She dropped her veil, fearing to be recognized by Mr. de +Brabazon, with whom she was well acquainted. She, too, had intended getting +off at Fourteenth Street, but decided to remain longer in the car.</p> + +<p>“I will find out where that girl lives,” she resolved. +“Her conduct with Percy de Brabazon is positively disgraceful. She is +evidently doing her best to captivate him. I feel that it is due to Mrs. +Leighton, who would be shocked at the thought of her nephew’s making +a low alliance, to find out all I can, and put her on her guard.”</p> + +<p>She kept her seat, still keeping her veil down, for it was possible that +Florence might recognize her; and the car moved steadily onward till it +turned into the Bowery.</p> + +<p>“Where on earth is she leading me?” Miss Carter asked +herself. “I have never been in this neighborhood before. However, it +won’t do to give up, when I am, perhaps, on the verge of some +important discoveries.”</p> + +<p>Still the car sped on. Not far from Grand Street, Florence left the +car, followed, though she was unconscious of it, by her aristocratic +fellow-passenger.</p> + +<p>Florence stopped a moment to speak to Mrs. O’Keefe at her +apple-stand.</p> + +<p>“So you’re through wid your work, Florence. Are you +goin’ home?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mrs. O’Keefe.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll go wid you, for I’ve got a nasty headache, +and I’ll lie down for an hour.”</p> + +<p>They crossed the street, not noticing the veiled young lady, who +followed within ear shot, and listened to their conversation. At length +they reached the tenement house—Florence’s humble +home—and went in.</p> + +<p>“I’ve learned more than I bargained for,” said Emily +Carter, in malicious exultation. “I am well repaid for coming to this +horrid part of the city. I wonder if Mr. de Brabazon knows where his +charmer lives? I will see that Mrs. Leighton knows, at any rate.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXI.<br/> +Florence Is Discharged.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Leighton</span> sat in her boudoir with a stern +face and tightly compressed lips. Miss Carter had called the previous +afternoon and informed her of the astounding discoveries she had made +respecting the governess.</p> + +<p>She rang the bell.</p> + +<p>“Janet,” she said, “when the governess comes you may +bring her up here to me.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p> + +<p>“She’s going to catch it—I wonder what for?” +thought Janet, as she noted the grim visage of her employer.</p> + +<p>So when Florence entered the house she was told that Mrs. Leighton +wished to see her at once.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what’s the matter now?” she asked herself. +“Has she heard of my meeting her nephew in the car?”</p> + +<p>When she entered the room she saw at once that something was wrong.</p> + +<p>“You wished to see me, Mrs. Leighton?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Mrs. Leighton, grimly. “Will you be +seated?”</p> + +<p>Florence sat down a few feet from her employer and waited for an +explanation.</p> + +<p>She certainly was not prepared for Mrs. Leighton’s first +words:</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden, where do you live?”</p> + +<p>Florence started, and her face flushed.</p> + +<p>“I live in the lower part of the city,” she answered, with +hesitation.</p> + +<p>“That is not sufficiently definite.”</p> + +<p>“I live at No. 27 — Street.”</p> + +<p>“I think that is east of the Bowery.”</p> + +<p>“You are right, madam.”</p> + +<p>“You lodge with an apple-woman, do you not?”</p> + +<p>“I do,” answered Florence, calmly.</p> + +<p>“In a tenement house?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam.”</p> + +<p>“And you actually come from such a squalid home to instruct my +daughter!” exclaimed Mrs. Leighton, indignantly. “It is a +wonder you have not brought some terrible disease into the +house.”</p> + +<p>“There has been no case of disease in the humble dwelling in which +I make my home. I should be as sorry to expose your daughter to any danger +of that kind as you would be to have me.”</p> + +<p>“It is a merciful dispensation of Providence, for which I ought to +be truly thankful. But the idea of receiving in my house an inmate of a +tenement house! I am truly shocked. Is this apple-woman your +mother?”</p> + +<p>“I assure you that she is not,” answered Florence, with a +smile which she could not repress.</p> + +<p>“Or your aunt?”</p> + +<p>“She is in no way related to me. She is an humble friend.</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden, your tastes must be low to select such a home and +such a friend.”</p> + +<p>“The state of my purse had something to do with the selection, and +the kindness shown me by Mrs. O’Keefe, when I needed a friend, will +explain my location further.”</p> + +<p>“That is not all. You met in the Madison Avenue car yesterday my +nephew, Mr. Percy de Brabazon.”</p> + +<p>“It is coming,” thought Florence. “Who could have seen +us?” Then aloud:</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam.”</p> + +<p>“Was it by appointment?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to insult me, Mrs. Leighton?” demanded +Florence, rising and looking at the lady with flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>“I never insult anybody,” replied Mrs. Leighton. +“Pray, resume your seat.”</p> + +<p>Florence did so.</p> + +<p>“Then I may assume that it was accidental. You talked together +with the freedom of old friends?”</p> + +<p>“You are correctly informed.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to make acquaintances very readily, Miss Linden. It +seems singular, to say the least, that after meeting my nephew for a single +evening, you should become such intimate friends.”</p> + +<p>“You will be surprised, Mrs. Leighton, when I say that Mr. de +Brabazon and I are old friends. We have met frequently.”</p> + +<p>“Where, in Heaven’s name?” ejaculated Mrs. +Leighton.</p> + +<p>“At my residence.”</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens!” exclaimed the scandalized lady. “Does +my nephew Percy visit at the house of this apple-woman?”</p> + +<p>“No, madam. He does not know where I live.”</p> + +<p>“Then you will explain your previous statement?” said Mrs. +Leighton, haughtily.</p> + +<p>“I am at present suffering reversed circumstances. It is but a +short time since I was very differently situated.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t inquire into your change of circumstances. I feel +compelled to perform an unpleasant duty.”</p> + +<p>Florence did not feel called upon to make any reply, but waited for Mrs. +Leighton to finish speaking.</p> + +<p>“I shall be obliged to dispense with your services as my +daughter’s governess. It is quite out of the question for me to +employ a person who lives in a tenement-house.”</p> + +<p>Florence bowed acquiescence, but she felt very sad. She had become +attached to her young charge, and it cost her a pang to part from her.</p> + +<p>Besides, how was she to supply the income of which this would deprive +her?</p> + +<p>“I bow to your decision, madam,” she said, with proud +humility.</p> + +<p>“You will find here the sum that I owe you, with payment for an +extra week in lieu of notice.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you. May I bid Carrie good-by, Mrs. Leighton?”</p> + +<p>“It is better not to do so, I think. The more quietly we dissolve +our unfortunate connection the better!”</p> + +<p>Florence’s heart swelled, and the tears came to her eyes, but she +could not press her request.</p> + +<p>She was destined, however, to obtain the privilege which Mrs. Leighton +denied her. Carrie, who had become impatient, came downstairs and burst +into the room.</p> + +<p>“What keeps you so long, Miss Linden?” she said. “Is +mamma keeping you?”</p> + +<p>Florence was silent, leaving the explanations to Mrs. Leighton.</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden has resigned her position as your governess, +Carrie.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Linden going away! I won’t have her go! What makes you +go, Miss Linden?”</p> + +<p>“Your mamma thinks it best,” answered Florence, with +moistened eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t!” exclaimed Carrie, stamping her foot, +angrily. “I won’t have any other governess but you.”</p> + +<p>“Carrie, you are behaving very unbecomingly,” said her +mother.</p> + +<p>“Will you tell me, mamma, why you are sending Miss Linden +away?”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you some other time.”</p> + +<p>“But I want to know now.”</p> + +<p>“I am very much displeased with you, Carrie.”</p> + +<p>“And I am very much displeased with you, mamma.”</p> + +<p>I do not pretend to defend Carrie, whose conduct was hardly respectful +enough to her mother; but with all her faults she had a warm heart, while +her mother had always been cold and selfish.</p> + +<p>“I am getting tired of this,” said Mrs. Leighton. +“Miss Linden, as you are here to-day, you may give Carrie the usual +lessons. As I shall be out when you get through, I bid you good-by +now.”</p> + +<p>“Good-by, Mrs. Leighton.”</p> + +<p>Carrie and Florence went to the schoolroom for the last time.</p> + +<p>Florence gave her young pupil a partial explanation of the cause which +had led to her discharge.</p> + +<p>“What do I care if you live in a poor house, Miss Linden?” +said Carrie, impetuously. “I will make mamma take you +back!”</p> + +<p>Florence smiled; but she knew that there would be no return for her.</p> + +<p>When she reached her humble home she had a severe headache and lay down. +Mrs. O’Keefe came in later to see her.</p> + +<p>“And what’s the matter with you, Florence?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“I have a bad headache, Mrs. O’Keefe.”</p> + +<p>“You work too hard, Florence, wid your teacher. That is what gives +you the headache.”</p> + +<p>“Then I shan’t have it again, for I have got through with my +teaching.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that you say?”</p> + +<p>“I am discharged.”</p> + +<p>“And what’s it all about?”</p> + +<p>Florence explained matters. Mrs. O’Keefe became indignant.</p> + +<p>“She’s a mean trollop, that Mrs. Leighton!” she +exclaimed, “and I’d like to tell her so to her face. Where does +she live?”</p> + +<p>“It will do no good to interfere, my good friend. She is not +willing to receive a governess from a tenement house.“</p> + +<p>“Shure you used to live in as grand a house as herself.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t now.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t mind it too much, mavoureen. You’ll soon be +gettin’ another scholar. Go to sleep now, and you’ll sleep the +headache away.”</p> + +<p>Florence finally succeeded in following the advice of her humble +friend.</p> + +<p>She resolved to leave till the morrow the cares of the morrow.</p> + +<p>She had twelve dollars, and before that was spent she hoped to be in a +position to earn some more.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXII.<br/> +An Exciting Adventure.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Dodger</span> soon became accustomed to his duties at +Tucker’s express office, in his new San Francisco home. He found Mr. +Tucker an exacting, but not an unreasonable, man. He watched his new +assistant closely for the first few days, and was quietly taking his +measure.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first week he paid the salary agreed +upon—fifteen dollars.</p> + +<p>“You have been with me a week, Arthur,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And I have been making up my mind about you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Dodger, looking up inquiringly. “I +hope you are satisfied with me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think I may say that I am. You don’t seem to be +afraid of work.”</p> + +<p>“I have always been accustomed to work.”</p> + +<p>“That is well. I was once induced to take the son of a rich man in +the place you now occupy. He had never done a stroke of work, having always been at school. He +didn’t take kindly to work, and seemed afraid that he would be called +upon to do more than he had bargained for. One evening I was particularly +busy, and asked him to remain an hour overtime.</p> + +<p>“ ‘It will be very inconvenient, Mr. Tucker,’ said the +young man, ‘as I have an engagement with a friend.’</p> + +<p>“He left me to do all the extra work, and—I suppose you know +what happened the next Saturday evening?”</p> + +<p>“I can guess,” returned Dodger, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“I told him that I thought the duties were too heavy for his +constitution, and he had better seek an easier place. Let me see—I +kept you an hour and a half overtime last Wednesday.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You made no objection, but worked on just as if you liked +it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; I am always willing to stay when you need +me.”</p> + +<p>“Good! I shan’t forget it.”</p> + +<p>Dodger felt proud of his success, and put away the fifteen dollars with +a feeling of satisfaction. He had never saved half that sum in the same +time before.</p> + +<p>“Curtis Waring did me a favor when he sent me out here,” he +reflected; “but as he didn’t mean it, I have no occasion to +feel grateful.”</p> + +<p>Dodger found that he could live for eight dollars a week, and he began +to lay by seven dollars a week with the view of securing funds sufficient +to take him back to New York.</p> + +<p>He was in no hurry to leave San Francisco, but he felt that Florence +might need a friend. But he found that he was making progress slowly.</p> + +<p>At that time the price of a first-class ticket to New York was one +hundred and twenty-eight dollars, besides the expense of sleeping berths, +amounting then, as now, to twenty-two dollars extra. So it looked as if +Dodger would be compelled to wait at least six months before he should be +in a position to set out on the return journey.</p> + +<p>About this time Dodger received a letter from Florence, in which she +spoke of her discharge by Mrs. Leighton.</p> + +<p>“I shall try to obtain another position as teacher,” she +said, concealing her anxiety. “I am sure, in a large city, I can find +something to do.”</p> + +<p>But Dodger knew better than she the difficulties that beset the path of +an applicant for work, and he could not help feeling anxious for +Florence.</p> + +<p>“If I were only in New York,” he said to himself, “I +would see that Florence didn’t suffer. I will write her to let me +know if she is in need, and I will send her some money.”</p> + +<p>About this time he met with an adventure which deserves to be noted.</p> + +<p>It was about seven o’clock one evening that he found himself in +Mission Street.</p> + +<p>At a street corner his attention was drawn to a woman poorly dressed, +who held by the hand a child of three.</p> + +<p>Her clothing was shabby, and her attitude was one of despondency. It was +clear that she was ill and in trouble.</p> + +<p>Dodger possessed quick sympathies, and his own experience made him quick +to understand and feel for the troubles of others.</p> + +<p>Though the woman made no appeal, he felt instinctively that she needed +help.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said, with as much deference as if +he were addressing one favored by fortune, “but you seem to be in +need of help?”</p> + +<p>“God knows, I am!” said the woman, sadly.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I can be of service to you. Will you tell me +how?”</p> + +<p>“Neither I nor my child has tasted food since +yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that can be easily remedied,” said Dodger, +cheerfully. “There is a restaurant close by. I was about to eat +supper. Will you come in with me?”</p> + +<p>“I am ashamed to impose upon the kindness of a stranger,” +murmured the woman.</p> + +<p>“Don’t mention it. I shall be very glad of company,” +said Dodger, heartily.</p> + +<p>“But you are a poor boy. You may be ill able to afford the +expense.”</p> + +<p>“I am not a millionaire,” said Dodger, “and I +don’t see any immediate prospect of my building a palace on Nob +Hill”—where live some of San Francisco’s wealthiest +citizens—“but I am very well supplied with money.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will accept your kind invitation.”</p> + +<p>It was a small restaurant, but neat in its appointments, and, as in most +San Francisco restaurants, the prices were remarkably moderate.</p> + +<p>At an expense of twenty-five cents each, the three obtained a +satisfactory meal.</p> + +<p>The woman and child both seemed to enjoy it, and Dodger was glad to see +that the former became more cheerful as time went on.</p> + +<p>There was something in the child’s face that looked familiar to +Dodger. It was a resemblance to some one that he had seen, but he could not +for the life of him decide who it was.</p> + +<p>“How can I ever thank you for your kindness?” said the lady, +as she arose from the table. “You don’t know what it is to be +famished——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t I?” asked Dodger. “I have been hungry +more than once, without money enough to buy a meal.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t look it,” she said.</p> + +<p>“No, for now I have a good place and am earning a good +salary.”</p> + +<p>“Are you a native of San Francisco?”</p> + +<p>“No, madam. I can’t tell you where I was born, for I know +little or nothing of my family. I have only been here a short time. I came +from New York.”</p> + +<p>“So did I,” said the woman, with a sigh. “I wish I +were back there again.”</p> + +<p>“How came you to be here? Don’t answer if you prefer not +to,” Dodger added, hastily.</p> + +<p>“I have no objection. My husband deserted me, and left me to shift +for myself and support my child.”</p> + +<p>“How have you done it?”</p> + +<p>“By taking in sewing. But that is a hard way of earning money. +There are too many poor women who are ready to work for starvation wages, +and so we all suffer.”</p> + +<p>“I know that,” answered Dodger. “Do you live near +here?”</p> + +<p>The woman mentioned a street near by.</p> + +<p>“I have one poor back room on the third floor,” she +explained; “but I should be glad if I were sure to stay +there.”</p> + +<p>“Is there any danger of your being ejected?”</p> + +<p>“I am owing for two weeks’ rent, and this is the middle of +the third week. Unless I can pay up at the end of this week I shall be +forced to go out into the streets with my poor child.”</p> + +<p>“How much rent do you pay?”</p> + +<p>“A dollar a week.”</p> + +<p>“Then three dollars will relieve you for the present?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but it might as well be three hundred,” said the +woman, bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Not quite; I can supply you with three dollars, but three hundred +would be rather beyond my means.”</p> + +<p>“You are too kind, too generous! I ought not to accept such a +liberal gift.”</p> + +<p>“Mamma, I am tired. Take me up in your arms,” said the +child.</p> + +<p>“Poor child! He has been on his feet all day,” sighed the +mother.</p> + +<p>She tried to lift the child, but her own strength had been undermined by +privation, and she was clearly unable to do so.</p> + +<p>“Let me take him!” said Dodger. “Here, little one, +jump up!”</p> + +<p>He raised the child easily, and despite the mother’s protest, +carried him in his arms.</p> + +<p>“I will see you home, madam,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I fear the child will be too heavy for you.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not. Why, I could carry a child twice as heavy.”</p> + +<p>They reached the room at last—a poor one, but a welcome repose +from the streets.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you ever expect to see your husband again?” +asked Dodger. “Can’t you compel him to support you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know where he is,” answered the woman, +despondently.</p> + +<p>“If you will tell me his name, I may come across him some +day.”</p> + +<p>“His name,” said the woman, “is Curtis +Waring.”</p> + +<p>Dodger stared at her, overwhelmed with surprise.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXIII.<br/> +An Important Discovery.</h2> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Curtis Waring!</span>” ejaculated Dodger, +his face showing intense surprise. “Is that the name of your +husband?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Is it possible that you know him?” asked the woman, +struck by Dodger’s tone.</p> + +<p>“I know a man by that name. I will describe him, and you can tell +me whether it is he. He is rather tall, dark hair, sallow complexion, black +eyes, and a long, thin nose.”</p> + +<p>“It is like him in every particular. Oh, tell me where he is to be +found?”</p> + +<p>“He lives in New York. He is the nephew of a rich man, and is +expecting to inherit his wealth. Through his influence a cousin of his, a +young lady, has been driven from home.”</p> + +<p>“Was he afraid she would deprive him of the estate?”</p> + +<p>“That was partly the reason. But it was partly to revenge himself +on her because she would not agree to marry him.”</p> + +<p>“But how could he marry her,” exclaimed the unfortunate +woman, “when he is already married to me?”</p> + +<p>“Neither she nor any one of his family or friends knew that he was +already married. I don’t think it would trouble him much.”</p> + +<p>“But it must be stopped!” she exclaimed, wildly. “He +is my husband. I shall not give him up to any one else.”</p> + +<p>“So far as Florence is concerned—she is the cousin—she +has no wish to deprive you of him. But is it possible that you are attached +to a man who has treated you so meanly?” asked Dodger, in +surprise.</p> + +<p>“There was a time when he treated me well, when he appeared to +love me,” was the murmured reply. “I cannot forget that he is +the father of my child.”</p> + +<p>Dodger did not understand the nature of women or the mysteries of the +female heart, and he evidently thought this poor woman very foolish to +cling with such pertinacity to a man like Curtis Waring.</p> + +<p>“Do you mind telling me how you came to marry him?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“It was over four years ago that I met him in this city,” +was the reply. “I am a San Francisco girl. I had never been out of +California. I was considered pretty then,” she added, with a remnant +of pride, “faded as I am to-day.”</p> + +<p>Looking closely in her face, Dodger was ready to believe this.</p> + +<p>Grief and privation had changed her appearance, but it had not +altogether effaced the bloom and beauty of youth.</p> + +<p>“At any rate, he seemed to think so. He was living at the Palace +Hotel, and I made his acquaintance at a small social gathering at the house +of my uncle. I am an orphan, and was perhaps the more ready to marry on +that account.”</p> + +<p>“Did Mr. Waring represent himself as wealthy?”</p> + +<p>“He said he had expectations from a wealthy relative, but did not +mention where he lived.”</p> + +<p>“He told the truth, then.”</p> + +<p>“We married, securing apartments on Kearney Street. We lived +together till my child was born, and for three months afterward. Then Mr. +Waring claimed to be called away from San Francisco on business. He said +he might be absent six weeks. He left me a hundred dollars, and urged me to +be careful of it, as he was short of money, and needed considerable for the +expenses of the journey. He left me, and I have never seen or heard from +him since.”</p> + +<p>“Did he tell you where he was going, Mrs. Waring?”</p> + +<p>“No; he said he would be obliged to visit several +places—among others, Colorado, where he claimed to have some mining +property. He told me that he hoped to bring back considerable +money.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think he meant to stay away altogether?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what to think. Well, I lived on patiently, for +I had perfect confidence in my husband. I made the money last me ten weeks +instead of six, but then I found myself penniless.”</p> + +<p>“Did you receive any letters in that time?”</p> + +<p>“No, and it was that that worried me. When at last the money gave +out, I began to pawn my things—more than once I was tempted to pawn +my wedding-ring, but I could not bring my mind to do that. I do not like to +think ill of my husband, and was forced, as the only alternative, to +conclude that he had met with some accident, perhaps had died. I have not +felt certain that this was not so till you told me this evening that you +know him.”</p> + +<p>“I can hardly say that I know him well, yet I know him a good deal +better than I wish I did. But for him I would not now be in San +Francisco.”</p> + +<p>“How is that? Please explain.”</p> + +<p>Dodger told her briefly the story of his abduction.</p> + +<p>“But what motive could he have in getting you out of New York? I +cannot understand.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand myself, except that I am the friend of +Florence.”</p> + +<p>“His cousin?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“But why should she be compelled to leave her uncle’s +home?”</p> + +<p>“Because Curtis Waring made him set his heart upon the match. She +had her choice to marry Curtis or to leave the house, and forfeit all +chance of the estate. She chose to leave the house.”</p> + +<p>“She ought to know that he has no right to marry,” said the +poor woman, who, not understanding the dislike of Florence for the man whom +she herself loved, feared that she might yet be induced to marry him.</p> + +<p>“She ought to know, and her uncle ought to know,” said +Dodger. “Mrs. Waring, I can’t see my way clear yet. If I were +in New York I would know just what to do. Will you agree to stand by me, +and help me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will,” answered the woman, earnestly.</p> + +<p>“I will see you again to-morrow evening. Here is some money to +help you along for the present. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>Dodger, as he walked away, pondered over the remarkable discovery he had +made.</p> + +<p>It was likely to prove of the utmost importance to Florence.</p> + +<p>Her uncle’s displeasure was wholly based upon her refusal to marry +Curtis Waring, but if it should be proved to him that Curtis was already a +married man, there would seem no bar to reconciliation.</p> + +<p>Moreover—and thas was particularly satisfactory—it would +bring Curtis himself into disfavor.</p> + +<p>Florence would be reinstated in her rightful place in her uncle’s +family, and once more be recognized as heiress to at least a portion of his +large fortune.</p> + +<p>This last consideration might not weigh so much with Florence, but +Dodger was more practical, and he wished to restore her to the social +position which she had lost through the knavery of her cousin.</p> + +<p>But in San Francisco—at a distance of over three thousand +miles—Dodger felt at a loss how to act.</p> + +<p>Even if Mr. Linden was informed that his nephew had a wife living in San +Francisco, the statement would no doubt be denied by Curtis, who would +brand the woman as an impudent adventuress.</p> + +<p>“The absent are always in the wrong,” says a French +proverb.</p> + +<p>At all events, they are very much at a disadvantage, and therefore it +seemed imperatively necessary, not only that Dodger, but that Curtis +Waring’s wife should go to New York to confront the unprincipled man +whose schemes had brought sorrow to so many.</p> + +<p>It was easy to decide what plan was best, but how to carry it out +presented a difficulty which seemed insurmountable.</p> + +<p>The expenses of a journey to New York for Dodger, Mrs. Waring and her +child would not be very far from five hundred dollars, and where to obtain +this money was a problem.</p> + +<p>Randolph Leslie probably had that sum, but Dodger could not in +conscience ask him to lend it, being unable to furnish adequate security, +or to insure repayment.</p> + +<p>“If I could only find a nugget,” thought Dodger, knitting +his brows, “everything would be easy.” But nuggets are rare +enough in the gold fields, and still rarer in city streets.</p> + +<p>He who trusts wholly to luck trusts to a will-o’-the-wisp, and is +about as sure of success as one who owns a castle in Spain.</p> + +<p>The time might come when Dodger, by his own efforts, could accumulate +the needed sum, but it would require a year at least, and in that time Mr. +Linden would probably be dead.</p> + +<p>Absorbed and disturbed by these reflections, Dodger walked slowly +through the darkened streets till he heard a stifled cry, and looking up, +beheld a sight that startled him.</p> + +<p>On the sidewalk lay the prostrate figure of a man. Over him, bludgeon in +hand, bent a ruffian, whose purpose was only too clearly evident.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXIV.<br/> +Just In Time.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Dodger,</span> who was a strong, stout boy, gathered +himself up and dashed against the ruffian with such impetuosity that he +fell over his intended victim, and his bludgeon fell from his hand.</p> + +<p>It was the work of an instant to lift it, and raise it in a menacing +position.</p> + +<p>The discomfited villain broke into a volley of oaths, and proceeded to +pick himself up.</p> + +<p>He was a brutal-looking fellow, but was no larger than Dodger, who was +as tall as the majority of men.</p> + +<p>“Give me that stick,” he exclaimed, furiously.</p> + +<p>“Come and take it,” returned Dodger, undaunted.</p> + +<p>The fellow took him at his word, and made a rush at our hero, but a +vigorous blow from the bludgeon made him cautious about repeating the +attack.</p> + +<p>“Curse you!” he cried, between his teeth. “I’d +like to chaw you up.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt you would,” answered Dodger; “but I +don’t think you will. Were you going to rob this man?”</p> + +<p>“None of your business!”</p> + +<p>“I shall make it my business. You’d better go, or you may be +locked up.”</p> + +<p>“Give me that stick, then.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to do without it.”</p> + +<p>He made another rush, and Dodger struck him such a blow on his arm that +he winced with pain.</p> + +<p>“Now I shall summon the police, and you can do as you please about +going.”</p> + +<p>Dodger struck the stick sharply on the sidewalk three times, and the +ruffian, apprehensive of arrest, ran around the corner just in time to rush +into the arms of a policeman.</p> + +<p>“What has this man been doing?” asked the city guardian, +turning to Dodger.</p> + +<p>“He was about to rob this man.”</p> + +<p>“Is the man hurt?”</p> + +<p>“Where am I?” asked the prostrate man, in a bewildered +tone.</p> + +<p>“I will take care of him, if you will take charge of that +fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Can you get up, sir?” asked Dodger, bending over the fallen +man.</p> + +<p>The latter answered by struggling to his feet and looking about him in a +confused way.</p> + +<p>“Where am I?” he asked. “What has happened?”</p> + +<p>“You were attacked by a ruffian. I found you on the sidewalk, with +him bending over you with this club in his hand.”</p> + +<p>“He must have followed me. I was imprudent enough to show a +well-filled pocketbook in a saloon where I stopped to take a drink. No +doubt he planned to relieve me of it.”</p> + +<p>“You have had a narrow escape, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt of it. I presume the fellow was ready to take my +life, if he found it necessary.”</p> + +<p>“I will leave you now, sir, if you think you can +manage.”</p> + +<p>“No, stay with me. I feel rather upset.”</p> + +<p>“Where are you staying, sir?”</p> + +<p>“At the Palace Hotel. Of course you know where that is?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly. Will you take my arm?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you.”</p> + +<p>Little was said till they found themselves in the sumptuous hotel, which +hardly has an equal in America.</p> + +<p>“Come to my room, young man; I want to speak to you.”</p> + +<p>It was still early in the evening, and Dodger’s time was his +own.</p> + +<p>He had no hesitation, therefore, in accepting the stranger’s +invitation.</p> + +<p>On the third floor the stranger produced a key and opened the door of a +large, handsomely-furnished room.</p> + +<p>“If you have a match, please light the gas.”</p> + +<p>Dodger proceeded to do so, and now, for the first time, obtained a good +view of the man he had rescued. He was a man of about the average height, +probably not far from fifty, dressed in a neat business suit, and looked +like a substantial merchant.</p> + +<p>“Please be seated.”</p> + +<p>Dodger sat down in an easy-chair conveniently near him.</p> + +<p>“Young man,” said the stranger, impressively, “you +have done me a great favor.”</p> + +<p>Dodger felt that this was true, and did not disclaim it.</p> + +<p>“I am very glad I came up just as I did,” he said.</p> + +<p>“How large a sum of money do you think I had about me?” +asked his companion.</p> + +<p>“Five hundred dollars?”</p> + +<p>“Five hundred dollars! Why, that would be a mere +trifle.”</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be a trifle to me, sir,” said Dodger.</p> + +<p>“Are you poor?” asked the man, earnestly.</p> + +<p>“I have a good situation that pays me fifteen dollars a week, so I +ought not to consider myself poor.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you had a considerable sum of money given you, what would +you do with it?”</p> + +<p>“If I had five hundred dollars, I should be able to defeat the +schemes of a villain, and restore a young lady to her rights.”</p> + +<p>“That seems interesting. Tell me the circumstances.”</p> + +<p>Dodger told the story as briefly as he could. He was encouraged to find +that the stranger listened to him with attention.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” he said, reflectively, “you have done +for me what I once did for another—a rich man? The case was very +similar. I was a poor boy at the time. Do you know what he gave +me?”</p> + +<p>“What was it, sir?”</p> + +<p>“A dollar! What do you think of that for generosity?”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, it wasn’t exactly liberal. Did you accept +it?”</p> + +<p>“No. I told him that I didn’t wish to inconvenience him. But +I asked you how much money you supposed I had. I will tell you. In a wallet +I have eleven thousand dollars in bank notes and securities.”</p> + +<p>“That is a fortune,” said Dodger, dazzled at the mention of +such a sum.</p> + +<p>“If I had lost it, I have plenty more, but the most serious peril +was to my life. Through your opportune assistance I have escaped without +loss. I fully appreciate the magnitude of the service you have done me. As +an evidence of it, please accept these bills.”</p> + +<p>He drew from the roll two bills and handed them to Dodger.</p> + +<p>The boy, glancing at them mechanically, started in amazement. Each bill +was for five hundred dollars.</p> + +<p>“You have given me a thousand dollars!” he gasped.</p> + +<p>“I am aware of it. I consider my life worth that, at least. James +Swinton never fails to pay his debts.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir, a thousand dollars——”</p> + +<p>“It’s no more than you deserve. When I tell my wife, on my +return to Chicago, about this affair, she will blame me for not giving you +more.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to belong to a liberal family, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I detest meanness, and would rather err on the side of +liberality. Now, if agreeable to you, I will order a bottle of champagne, +and solace ourselves for this little incident.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Swinton, but I have made up my mind not to drink +anything stronger than water. I have tended bar in New York, and what I +have seen has given me a dislike for liquor of any kind.”</p> + +<p>“You are a sensible young man. You are right, and I won’t +urge you. There is my card, and if you ever come to Chicago, call upon +me.”</p> + +<p>“I will, sir.”</p> + +<p>When Dodger left the Palace Hotel he felt that he was a favorite of +fortune.</p> + +<p>It is not always that the money we need is so quickly supplied.</p> + +<p>He resolved to return to New York as soon as he could manage it, and +take with him the wife and child of Curtis Waring.</p> + +<p>This would cost him about five hundred dollars, and he would have the +same amount left.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tucker was reluctant to part with Dodger.</p> + +<p>“You are the best assistant I ever had,” he said. “I +will pay you twenty dollars a week, if that will induce you to +stay.”</p> + +<p>“I would stay if it were not very important for me to return to +New York, Mr. Tucker. I do not expect to get a place in New York as +good.”</p> + +<p>“If you come back to San Francisco at any time, I will make a +place for you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Waring was overjoyed when Dodger called upon her and offered to +take her back to New York.</p> + +<p>“I shall see Curtis again,” she said. “How can I ever +thank you?”</p> + +<p>But Dodger, though unwilling to disturb her dreams of happiness, thought +it exceedingly doubtful if her husband would be equally glad to see +her.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXV.<br/> +The Darkest Day.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">When</span> Florence left the employ of Mrs. Leighton +she had a few dollars as a reserve fund. As this would not last long, she +at once made an effort to obtain employment.</p> + +<p>She desired another position as governess, and made application in +answer to an advertisement.</p> + +<p>Her ladylike manner evidently impressed the lady to whom she +applied.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have taught before?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam.”</p> + +<p>“In whose family?”</p> + +<p>“I taught the daughter of Mrs. Leighton, of West — +Street.”</p> + +<p>“I have heard of the lady. Of course you are at liberty to refer +to her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam,” but there was a hesitation in her tone that +excited suspicion.</p> + +<p>“Very well; I will call upon her and make inquiries. If you will +call to-morrow morning, I can give you a decisive answer.”</p> + +<p>Florence fervently hoped that this might prove favorable; but was +apprehensive, and with good reason, it appeared.</p> + +<p>When she presented herself the next day, Mrs. Cole said:</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, Miss Linden, you will not suit me.”</p> + +<p>“May I ask why?” Florence inquired, schooling herself to +calmness.</p> + +<p>“I called on Mrs. Leighton,” was the answer. “She +speaks well of you as a teacher, but—she told me some things which +make it seem inexpedient to engage you.”</p> + +<p>“What did she say of me?”</p> + +<p>“That, perhaps, you had better not inquire.”</p> + +<p>“I prefer to know the worst.”</p> + +<p>“She said you encouraged the attentions of her nephew, forgetting +the difference in social position, and also that your connections were not +of a sort to recommend you. I admit, Miss Linden, that you are very +ladylike in appearance, but, I can hardly be expected to admit into my +house, in the important position of governess to my child, the daughter or +niece of an apple-woman.”</p> + +<p>“Did Mrs. Leighton say that I was related to an +apple-woman?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss Linden. I own I was surprised.”</p> + +<p>“It is not true, Mrs. Cole.”</p> + +<p>“You live in the house of such a person, do you not?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is an humble friend of mine, and has been kind to +me.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot be very fastidious. However, that is your own affair. +I am sorry to disappoint you, Miss Linden, but it will be quite impossible +for me to employ you.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will bid you good-morning, Mrs. Cole,” said +Florence, sore at heart.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning. You will, I think, understand my position. If you +applied for a position in one of the public schools, I don’t think +that your residence would be an objection.”</p> + +<p>Florence left the house, sad and despondent. She saw that Mrs. Leighton, +by her unfriendly representations, would prevent her from getting any +opportunity to teach. She must seek some more humble employment.</p> + +<p>“Well, Florence, did you get a place?” asked Mrs. +O’Keefe, as she passed that lady’s stand.</p> + +<p>“No, Mrs. O’Keefe,” answered Florence, wearily.</p> + +<p>“And why not? Did the woman think you didn’t know +enough?”</p> + +<p>“She objected to me because I was not living in a fashionable +quarter—at least that was one of her objections.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you’ve got a nate, clane home, and it looks +as nate as wax all the time.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t exactly stylish,” said Florence, with a +faint smile.</p> + +<p>“You are, at any rate. What does the woman want, I’d like to +know?”</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t want me. It seems Mrs. Leighton did not speak +very highly of me.”</p> + +<p>“The trollop! I’d like to give her a box on the ear, drat +her impudence!” said the irate apple-woman. “And what will you +be doin’ now?”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I can get some sewing to do, Mrs. +O’Keefe?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss Florence—I’ll get you some vests to make; +but it’s hard work and poor pay.”</p> + +<p>“I must take what I can get,” sighed Florence. “I +cannot choose.”</p> + +<p>“If you’d only tend an apple-stand, Miss Florence! +There’s Mrs. Brady wants to sell out on account of the rheumatics, +and I’ve got a trifle in the savings bank—enough to buy it. +You’d make a dollar a day, easy.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t to be thought of, Mrs. O’Keefe. If you will +kindly see about getting me some sewing, I will see how I can get +along.”</p> + +<p>The result was that Mrs. O’Keefe brought Florence in the course of +the day half a dozen vests, for which she was to be paid the munificent sum +of twenty-five cents each.</p> + +<p>Florence had very little idea of what she was undertaking.</p> + +<p>She was an expert needlewoman, and proved adequate to the work, but with +her utmust industry she could only make one vest in a day, and that would +barely pay her rent.</p> + +<p>True, she had some money laid aside on which she could draw, but that +would soon be expended, and then what was to become of her?</p> + +<p>“Shure, I won’t let you starve, Florence,” said the +warm-hearted apple-woman.</p> + +<p>“But, Mrs. O’Keefe, I can’t consent to live on +you.”</p> + +<p>“And why not? I’m well and strong, and I’m +makin’ more money than I nade.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t think of it, though I thank you for your +kindness.”</p> + +<p>“Shure, you might write a letter to your uncle, +Florence.”</p> + +<p>“He would expect me, in that case, to consent to a marriage with +Curtis. You wouldn’t advise me to do that?”</p> + +<p>“No; he’s a mane blackguard, and I’d say it to his +face.”</p> + +<p>Weeks rolled by, and Florence began to show the effects of hard work and +confinement.</p> + +<p>She grew pale and thin, and her face was habitually sad.</p> + +<p>She had husbanded her savings as a governess as closely as she could, +but in spite of all her economy it dwindled till she had none left.</p> + +<p>Henceforth, she must depend on twenty-five cents a day, and this seemed +well-nigh impossible.</p> + +<p>In this emergency the pawnbroker occurred to her.</p> + +<p>She had a variety of nice dresses, and she had also a handsome ring, +given her by her uncle on her last birthday.</p> + +<p>This she felt sure must have cost fifty dollars.</p> + +<p>It was a trial to part with it, but there seemed to be no +alternative.</p> + +<p>“If my uncle has withdrawn his affection from me,” she said +to herself, “why should I scruple to pawn the ring? It is the symbol +of a love that no longer exists.”</p> + +<p>So she entered the pawnbrowker’s—the first that attracted +her attention—and held out the ring.</p> + +<p>“How much will you lend me on this?” she asked, half +frightened at finding herself in such a place.</p> + +<p>The pawnbroker examined it carefully. His practiced eye at once detected +its value, but it was not professional to admit this.</p> + +<p>“Rings is a drug in the market, young lady,” he said. +“I’ve got more than I know what to do with. I’ll give you +four—four dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Four dollars!” repeated Florence, in dismay. “Why, it +must have cost fifty. It was bought in Tiffany’s.”</p> + +<p>“You are mistaken, my dear. Did you buy it yourself +there?”</p> + +<p>“No, my uncle gave it to me.”</p> + +<p>“He may have said he paid fifty dollars for it,” said the +pawnbroker, wagging his head, “but we know better.”</p> + +<p>“But what will you give?” asked Florence, desperately.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you five dollars, and not a penny more,” +said the broker, surveying her distressed face, shrewdly. “You can +take it or not.”</p> + +<p>What could Florence do?</p> + +<p>She must have money, and feared that no other pawnbroker would give her +more.</p> + +<p>“Make out the ticket, then,” she said, wearily, with a +sigh.</p> + +<p>This was done, and she left the place, half timid, half ashamed, and +wholly discouraged.</p> + +<p>But the darkest hour is sometimes nearest the dawn. A great overwhelming +surprise awaited her. She had scarcely left the shop when a glad voice +cried:</p> + +<p>“I have found you at last, Florence!”</p> + +<p>She looked up and saw—Dodger.</p> + +<p>But not the old Dodger. She saw a nicely dressed young gentleman, larger +than the friend she had parted with six months before, with a brighter, +more intelligent, and manly look.</p> + +<p>“Dodger!” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is Dodger.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you come from?”</p> + +<p>“From San Francisco. But what have you been doing +there?”</p> + +<p>And Dodger pointed in the direction of the pawnbroker’s shop.</p> + +<p>“I pawned my ring.”</p> + +<p>“Then I shall get it back at once. How much did you get on +it?”</p> + +<p>“Five dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Give me the ticket, and go in with me.”</p> + +<p>The pawnbroker was very reluctant to part with the ring, which he made +sure would not be reclaimed; but there was no help for it.</p> + +<p>As they emerged into the street, Dodger said: “I’ve come +back to restore you to your rights, and give Curtis Waring the most +disagreeable surprise he ever had. Come home, and I’ll tell you all +about it. I’ve struck luck, Florence, and you’re going to share +it.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXVI.<br/> +Mrs. O’Keefe In A New Role.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">No</span> time was lost in seeing Bolton and arranging +a plan of campaign.</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring, nearing the accomplishment of his plans, was far from +anticipating impending disaster.</p> + +<p>His uncle’s health had become so poor, and his strength had been +so far undermined, that it was thought desirable to employ a sick nurse. An +advertisement was inserted in a morning paper, which luckily attracted the +attention of Bolton.</p> + +<p>“You must go, Mrs. O’Keefe,” he said to the +apple-woman. “It is important that we have some one in the +house—some friend of Florence and the boy—to watch what is +going on.”</p> + +<p>“Bridget O’Keefe is no fool. Leave her to manage.”</p> + +<p>The result was that among a large number of applicants Mrs. +O’Keefe was selected by Curtis as Mr. Linden’s nurse, as she +expressed herself willing to work for four dollars a week, while the lowest +outside demand was seven.</p> + +<p>We will now enter the house, in which the last scenes of our story are +to take place.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linden, weak and emaciated, was sitting in an easy-chair in his +library.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel this morning, uncle?” asked Curtis, +entering the room.</p> + +<p>“I am very weak, Curtis. I don’t think I shall ever be any +better.”</p> + +<p>“I have engaged a nurse, uncle, as you desired, and I expect her +this morning.”</p> + +<p>“That is well, Curtis. I do not wish to confine you to my +bedside.”</p> + +<p>“The nurse is below,” said Jane, the servant, entering.</p> + +<p>“Send her up.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. O’Keefe entered in the sober attire of a nurse. She dropped a +curtsey.</p> + +<p>“Are you the nurse I engaged?” said Curtis.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Your name, please.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Barnes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Have you experience as a nurse?”</p> + +<p>“Plenty, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle, this is Mrs. Barnes, your new nurse. I hope you will find +her satisfactory.”</p> + +<p>“She looks like a good woman,” said Mr. Linden, feebly. +“I think she will suit me.”</p> + +<p>“Indade, sir, I’ll try.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle,” said Curtis, “I have to go downtown. I have +some business to attend to. I leave you in the care of Mrs. +Barnes.”</p> + +<p>“Shure, I’ll take care of him, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Linden?” asked the +new nurse, in a tone of sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Can you minister to a mind diseased?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take the best care of you, Mr. Linden, but it +isn’t as if you had a wife or daughter.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, that is a sore thought! I have no wife or daughter; but I +have a niece.”</p> + +<p>“And where is she, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I drove her from me by my unkindness. I +repent bitterly, but it’s now too late.” </p> + +<p>“And why don’t you send for her to come home?”</p> + +<p>“I would gladly do so, but I don’t know where she is. Curtis +has tried to find her, but in vain. He says she is in Chicago.”</p> + +<p>“And what should take her to Chicago?”</p> + +<p>“He says she is there as a governess in a family.”</p> + +<p>“By the brow of St. Patrick!” thought Mrs. O’Keefe, +“if that Curtis isn’t a natural-born liar. I’m sure +she’d come back if you’d send for her, sir,” said she, +aloud.</p> + +<p>“Do you think so?” asked Linden, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure of it.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t know where to send.”</p> + +<p>“I know of a party that would be sure to find her.”</p> + +<p>“Who is it?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a young man. They call him Dodger. If any one can find +Miss Florence, he can.”</p> + +<p>“You know my niece’s name?”</p> + +<p>“I have heard it somewhere. From Mr. Waring, I think.”</p> + +<p>“And you think this young man would agree to go to Chicago and +find her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I make bold to say he will.”</p> + +<p>“Tell him to go at once. He will need money. In yonder desk you +will find a picture of my niece and a roll of bills. Give them to him and +send him at once.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I will. But if you’ll take my advice, you +won’t say anything to Mr. Curtis. He might think it +foolish.”</p> + +<p>“True! If your friend succeeds, we’ll give Curtis a +surprise.”</p> + +<p>“And a mighty disagreeable one, I’ll be bound,” +soliloquized Mrs. O’Keefe.</p> + +<p>“I think, Mrs. Barnes, I will retire to my chamber, if you will +assist me.”</p> + +<p>She assisted Mr. Linden to his room, and then returned to the +library.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Barnes, there’s a young man inquiring for you,” +said Jane, entering.</p> + +<p>“Send him in, Jane.”</p> + +<p>The visitor was Dodger, neatly dressed.</p> + +<p>“How are things going, Mrs. O’Keefe?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Splendid, Dodger. Here’s some money for you.”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“You’re to go to Chicago and bring back Florence.”</p> + +<p>“But she isn’t there.”</p> + +<p>“Nivir mind. You’re to pretend to go.”</p> + +<p>“But that won’t take money.”</p> + +<p>“Give it to Florence, then. It’s hers by rights. Won’t +we give Curtis a surprise? Where’s his wife?”</p> + +<p>“I have found a comfortable boarding house for her. When had we +better carry out this programme? She’s very anxious to see her +husband.”</p> + +<p>“The more fool she. Kape her at home and out of his sight, or +there’s no knowin’ what he’ll do. And, Dodger, dear, kape +an eye on the apple-stand. I mistrust Mrs. Burke that’s runnin’ +it.”</p> + +<p>“I will. Does the old gentleman seem to be very sick?”</p> + +<p>“He’s wake as a rat. Curtis would kill him soon if we +didn’t interfere. But we’ll soon circumvent him, the snake in +the grass! Miss Florence will soon come to her own, and Curtis Waring will +be out in the cold.”</p> + +<p>“The most I have against him is that he tried to marry Florence +when he had a wife already.”</p> + +<p>“He’s as bad as they make ’em, Dodger. It won’t +be my fault if Mr. Linden’s eyes are not opened to his +wickedness.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXVII.<br/> +The Diplomacy Of Mrs. O’Keefe.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. O’Keefe</span> was a warm-hearted woman, and +the sad, drawn face of Mr. Linden appealed to her pity.</p> + +<p>“Why should I let the poor man suffer when I can relieve +him?” she asked herself.</p> + +<p>So the next morning, after Curtis had, according to his custom, gone +downtown, being in the invalid’s sick chamber, she began to act in a +mysterious manner. She tiptoed to the door, closed it and approached Mr. +Linden’s bedside with the air of one about to unfold a strange +story.</p> + +<p>“Whist now,” she said, with her finger on her lips.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter?” asked the invalid, rather alarmed.</p> + +<p>“Can you bear a surprise, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Have you any bad news for me?”</p> + +<p>“No; it’s good news, but you must promise not to tell +Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“Is it about Florence? Your messenger can hardly have reached +Chicago.”</p> + +<p>“He isn’t going there, sir.”</p> + +<p>“But you promised that he should,” said Mr. Linden, +disturbed.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you why, sir. Florence is not in +Chicago.”</p> + +<p>“I—I don’t understand. You said she was +there.”</p> + +<p>“Begging your pardon, sir, it was Curtis that said so, though he +knew she was in New York.”</p> + +<p>“But what motive could he have had for thus misrepresenting +matters?”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t want you to take her back.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t believe you, Mrs. Barnes. He loves her, and wants +to marry her.”</p> + +<p>“He couldn’t marry her if she consented to take +him.”</p> + +<p>“Why not? Mrs. Barnes, you confuse me.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t deceive you as he has done. There’s rason in +plinty. He’s married already.”</p> + +<p>“Is this true?” demanded Mr. Linden, in excitement.</p> + +<p>“It’s true enough; more by token, to-morrow, whin he’s +out, his wife will come here and tell you so herself.”</p> + +<p>“But who are you who seem to know so much about my +family?”</p> + +<p>“I’m a friend of the pore girl you’ve driven from the +house, because she would not marry a rascally spalpeen that’s been +schemin’ to get your property into his hands.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a friend of Florence? Where is she?”</p> + +<p>“She’s in my house, and has been there ever since she left +her home.”</p> + +<p>“Is she—well?”</p> + +<p>“As well as she can be whin she’s been workin’ her +fingers to the bone wid sewin’ to keep from +starvin’.”</p> + +<p>“My God! what have I done?”</p> + +<p>“You’ve let Curtis Waring wind you around his little +finger—that’s what you’ve done, Mr. Linden.”</p> + +<p>“How soon can I see Florence?”</p> + +<p>“How soon can you bear it?”</p> + +<p>“The sooner the better.”</p> + +<p>“Then it’ll be to-morrow, I’m thinkin’, that is +if you won’t tell Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“No, no; I promise.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll manage everything, sir. Don’t worry +now.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Linden’s face lost its anxious look—so that when, later +in the day, Curtis looked into the room he was surprised.</p> + +<p>“My uncle looks better,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” answered the nurse. “I’ve soothed +him like.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! You seem to be a very accomplished nurse.”</p> + +<p>“Faith, that I am, sir, though it isn’t I that should say +it.”</p> + +<p>“May I ask how you soothed him?” inquired Curtis, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“I told him that Miss Florence would soon be home.”</p> + +<p>“I do not think it right to hold out hopes that may prove +ill-founded.”</p> + +<p>“I know what I am about, Mr. Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say you understand your business, Mrs. Barnes, but if my +uncle should be disappointed, I am afraid the consequences will be +lamentable.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think he’ll live long, sir?”</p> + +<p>Curtis shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“It is very hard to tell. My uncle is a very feeble +man.”</p> + +<p>“And if he dies, I suppose the property goes to you?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“But where does Florence come in?”</p> + +<p>“It seems to me, Mrs. Barnes, that you take a good deal of +interest in our family affairs,” said Curtis, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“That’s true, sir. Why shouldn’t I take an interest in +a nice gentleman like you?”</p> + +<p>Curtis smiled.</p> + +<p>“I am doing my best to find Florence. Then our marriage will take +place, and it matters little to whom the property is left.”</p> + +<p>“But I thought Miss Florence didn’t care to marry +you?”</p> + +<p>“It is only because she thinks cousins ought not to marry. +It’s a foolish fancy, and she’ll get over it.”</p> + +<p>“Thrue for you, sir. My first husband was my cousin, and we always +agreed, barrin’ an occasional fight——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think Florence and I will ever fight, Mrs. +Barnes.”</p> + +<p>“What surprises me, Mr. Curtis, is that a nice-lookin’ +gentleman like you hasn’t been married before.”</p> + +<p>Curtis eyed her keenly, but her face told him nothing.</p> + +<p>“I never saw one I wanted to marry till my cousin grew up,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“I belave in marryin’, meself. I was first married at +sivinteen.”</p> + +<p>“How long ago was that, Mrs. Barnes?”</p> + +<p>“It’s long ago, Mr. Curtis. I’m an old woman now. I +was thirty-five last birthday.”</p> + +<p>Curtis came near laughing outright, for he suspected—what was +true—that the nurse would never see her fiftieth birthday again.</p> + +<p>“Then you are just my age,” he said.</p> + +<p>“If I make him laugh he won’t suspect nothing,” +soliloquized the wily nurse. “That’s a pretty big lie, even for +me.”</p> + +<p>“Shure I look older, Mr. Curtis,” she said, aloud. +“What wid the worry of losin’ two fond husbands, I look much +older than you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, your are very well preserved, Mrs. Barnes.”</p> + +<p>Curtis went into his uncle’s chamber.</p> + +<p>“How are you feeling, uncle?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I think I am better,” answered Mr. Linden, coldly, for he +had not forgotten Mrs. Barnes’ revelations.</p> + +<p>“That is right. Only make an effort, and you will soon be strong +again.”</p> + +<p>“I think I may. I may live ten years to annoy you.”</p> + +<p>“I fervently hope so,” said Curtis, but there was a false +ring in his voice that his uncle detected. “How do you like the new +nurse?”</p> + +<p>“She is helping me wonderfully. You made a good +selection.”</p> + +<p>“I will see that she is soon discharged,” Curtis inwardly +resolved. “If her being here is to prolong my uncle’s life, and +keep me still waiting for the estate, I must clear the house of +her.”</p> + +<p>“You must not allow her to buoy you up with unfounded hopes. She +has been telling you that Florence will soon return.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; she seems convinced of it.”</p> + +<p>“Of course she knows nothing of it. She may return, but I doubt +whether she is in Chicago now. I think the family she was with has gone to +Europe.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you hear that, Curtis?” asked Mr. Linden, with +unwonted sharpness.</p> + +<p>“I have sources of information which at present I do not care to +impart. Rest assured that I am doing all I can to get her back.”</p> + +<p>“You still want to marry her, Curtis?”</p> + +<p>“I do, most certainly.”</p> + +<p>“I shall not insist upon it. I should not have done so +before.”</p> + +<p>“Have you changed your mind, uncle?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I have made a mistake, and I have decided to correct +it.”</p> + +<p>“What has come over him?” Curtis asked himself. “Some +influence hostile to me has been brought to bear. It must be that nurse. I +will quietly dismiss her to-morrow, paying her a week’s wages, in +lieu of warning. She’s evidently a meddler.”</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Chapter XXXVIII.<br/> +The Closing Scene.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">The</span> next day Tim Bolton, dressed in a jaunty +style, walked up the steps of the Linden mansion.</p> + +<p>“Is Mr. Waring at home?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No, sir; he has gone downtown.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll step in and wait for him. Please show me to the +library.”</p> + +<p>Jane, who had been taken into confidence by the nurse, showed him at +once into the room mentioned.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Curtis entered.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been here, Bolton?”</p> + +<p>“But a short time. You sent for me?”</p> + +<p>“I did.”</p> + +<p>“On business?”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Is there anything new?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my uncle is failing fast.”</p> + +<p>“Is he likely to die soon?”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t be surprised if he died within a +week.”</p> + +<p>“I suspect Curtis means to help him! Well, what has that to do +with me?” he asked. “You will step into the property, of +course?”</p> + +<p>“There is a little difficulty in the way which I can overcome with +your help.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t get him to give up the foolish notion that the boy +he lost is still alive.”</p> + +<p>“It happens to be true.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but he must not know it. Before he dies I want him to make a +new will, revoking all others, leaving all the property to me.”</p> + +<p>“Will he do it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. As long as he thinks the boy is living, I +don’t believe he will. You see what a drawback that is.”</p> + +<p>“I see. What can I do to improve the situation?”</p> + +<p>“I want you to sign a paper confessing that you abducted the +boy——”</p> + +<p>“At your instigation?”</p> + +<p>“That must not be mentioned. You will go on to say that a year or +two later—the time is not material—he died of typhoid fever. +You can say that you did not dare to reveal this before, but do so now, +impelled by remorse.”</p> + +<p>“Have you got it written out? I can’t remember all them +words.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; here it is.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Bolton, taking the paper and tucking it +into an inside pocket. “I’ll copy it out in my own handwriting. +How much are you going to give me for doing this?”</p> + +<p>“A thousand dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Cash?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t do that. I have met with losses at the gaming +table, and I don’t dare ask money from my uncle at this time. He +thinks I am thoroughly steady.”</p> + +<p>“At how much do you value the estate?”</p> + +<p>“At four hundred thousand dollars. I wormed it out of my +uncle’s lawyer the other day.”</p> + +<p>“And you expect me to help you to that amount for only a thousand +dollars?”</p> + +<p>“A thousand dollars is a good deal of money.”</p> + +<p>“And so is four hundred thousand. After all, your uncle may not +die.”</p> + +<p>“He is sure to.”</p> + +<p>“You seem very confident.”</p> + +<p>“And with good reason. Leave that to me. I promise you, on my +honor, to pay you two thousand dollars when I get the estate.”</p> + +<p>“But what is going to happen to poor Dodger, the rightful +heir?”</p> + +<p>“Well, let it be three hundred dollars a year, then.”</p> + +<p>“Where is he now?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind telling you, as it can do no harm. He is in +California.”</p> + +<p>“Whew! That was smart. How did you get him there?”</p> + +<p>“I drugged him, and had him sent on board a ship bound for San +Francisco, around Cape Horn. The fact is, I was getting a little suspicious +of you, and I wanted to put you beyond the reach of temptation.”</p> + +<p>“You are a clever rascal, Curtis. After all, suppose the prize +should slip through your fingers?”</p> + +<p>“It won’t. I have taken every precaution.”</p> + +<p>“When do you want this document?”</p> + +<p>“Bring it back to me this afternoon, copied and signed. That is +all you have to do; I will attend to the rest.”</p> + +<p>While this conversation was going on there were unseen listeners.</p> + +<p>Behind a portière Mrs. Barnes, the nurse, and John Linden heard +every word that was said.</p> + +<p>“And what do you think now, sir?” whispered Mrs. +O’Keefe (to give her real name).</p> + +<p>“It is terrible. I would not have believed Curtis capable of such +a crime. But is it really true, Mrs. Barnes? Is my lost boy +alive?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure he is.”</p> + +<p>“Have you seen him?”</p> + +<p>“I know him as well as I know you, sir, and better, +too.”</p> + +<p>“Is he—tell me, is he a good boy? Curtis told me that he +might be a criminal.”</p> + +<p>“He might, but he isn’t. He’s as dacent and honest a +boy as iver trod shoe leather. You’ll be proud of him, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“But he’s in California.”</p> + +<p>“He was; but he’s got back. You shall see him to-day, and +Florence, too. Hark! I hear the door bell. They’re here now. I think +you had better go in and confront Curtis.”</p> + +<p>“I feel weak, Mrs. Barnes. Let me lean on you.”</p> + +<p>“You can do that, and welcome, sir.”</p> + +<p>The nurse pushed aside the portière, and the two entered the +library—Mrs. Barnes rotund and smiling, Mr. Linden gaunt and spectral +looking, like one risen from the grave.</p> + +<p>Curtis eyed the pair with a startled look.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Barnes,” he said, angrily, “what do you mean by +taking my uncle from his bed and bringing him down here? It is as much as +his life is worth. You seem unfit for your duties as nurse. You will leave +the house to-morrow, and I will engage a substitute.”</p> + +<p>“I shall lave whin I git ready, Mr. Curtis Waring,” said the +nurse, her arms akimbo. “Maybe somebody else will lave the house. Me +and Mr. Linden have been behind the curtain for twenty minutes, and he has +heard every word you said.”</p> + +<p>Curtis turned livid, and his heart sank.</p> + +<p>“It’s true, Curtis,” said John Linden’s hollow +voice. “I have heard all. It was you who abducted my boy, and have +made my life a lonely one all these years. Oh, man! man! how could you have +the heart to do it?”</p> + +<p>Curtis stared at him with parched lips, unable to speak.</p> + +<p>“Not content with this, you drove from the house my dear niece, +Florence. You made me act cruelly toward her. I fear she will not forgive +me.”</p> + +<p>But just then the door opened, and Florence, rushing into the room, sank +at her uncle’s feet.</p> + +<p>“Oh, uncle,” she said, “will you take me +back?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Florence, never again to leave me. And who is this?” +he asked, fixing his eyes on Dodger, who stood shyly in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you, sir,” said Tim Bolton. “That is +your own son, whom I stole away from you when he was a kid, being hired to +do it by Curtis Waring.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a lie,” said Curtis, hoarsely.</p> + +<p>“Come to me, my boy,” said Mr. Linden, with a glad light in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>“At last Heaven has heard my prayers,” he ejaculated. +“We will never be separated. I was ready to die, but now I hope to +live for many years. I feel that I have a new lease of life.”</p> + +<p>With a baffled growl Curtis Waring darted a furious look at the +three.</p> + +<p>“That boy is an impostor,” he said. “They are +deceiving you.”</p> + +<p>“He is my son. I see his mother’s look in his face. As for +you, Curtis Waring, my eyes are open at last to your villainy. You deserve +nothing at my hands; but I will make some provision for you.”</p> + +<p>There was another surprise.</p> + +<p>Curtis Waring’s deserted wife, brought from California by Dodger, +entered the room, leading by the hand a young child.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Curtis,” she said, reproachfully. “How could you +leave me? I have come to you, my husband, with our little child.”</p> + +<p>“Begone! woman!” said Curtis, furiously. “I will never +receive or recognize you!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sir!” she said, turning to Mr. Linden, “what +shall I do?”</p> + +<p>“Curtis Waring,” said Mr. Linden, sternly, “unless you +receive this woman and treat her properly, you shall receive nothing from +me.”</p> + +<p>“And if I do?”</p> + +<p>“You will receive an income of two thousand dollars a year, +payable quarterly. Mrs. Waring, you will remain here with your child till +your husband provides another home for you.”</p> + +<p>Curtis slunk out of the room, but he was too wise to refuse his +uncle’s offer.</p> + +<p>He and his wife are living in Chicago, and he treats her fairly well, +fearing that, otherwise, he will lose his income.</p> + +<p>Mr. Linden looks ten years younger than he did at the opening of the +story.</p> + +<p>Florence and Dodger—now known as Harvey Linden—live with +him.</p> + +<p>Dodger, under a competent private tutor, is making up the deficiencies +in his education.</p> + +<p>It is early yet to speak of marriage, but it is possible that Florence +may marry a cousin, after all.</p> + +<p>Tim Bolton has turned over a new leaf, given up his saloon, and is +carrying on a country hotel within fifty miles of New York.</p> + +<p>He has five thousand dollars in the bank, presented by Dodger, with his +father’s sanction, and is considered quite a reputable citizen.</p> + +<p>As for Mrs. O’Keefe, she still keeps the apple-stand, being +unwilling to give it up; but she, too, has a handsome sum in the bank, and +calls often upon her two children, as she calls them.</p> + +<p>In the midst of their prosperity Florence and Dodger will never forget +the time when they were adrift in New York.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="theend">The end.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p class="lb">A. L. Burt’s Catalogue of Books for Young People by Popular +Writers, 52-58 Duane Street, New York</p> + +<p class="lb">BOOKS FOR BOYS.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Joe’s Luck:</span> A Boy’s Adventures +in California. By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">The story is chock full of stirring incidents, while the amusing +situations are furnished by Joshua Bickford, from Pumpkin Hollow, and the +fellow who modestly styles himself the “Rip-tail Roarer, from Pike +Co., Missouri.” Mr. Alger never writes a poor book, and +“Joe’s Luck” is certainly one of his best.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Tom the Bootblack;</span> or, The Road to +Success. By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">A bright, enterprising lad was Tom the Bootblack. He was not +at all ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout to better +himself. The lad started for Cincinnati to look up his heritage. Mr. Grey, +the uncle, did not hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. The plan +failed, and Gilbert Grey, once Tom the bootblack, came into a comfortable +fortune. This is one of Mr. Alger’s best stories.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Dan the Newsboy.</span> By +<span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Dan Mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the +lad is pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets +of New York. A little heiress of six years is confided to the care of the +Mordaunts. The child is kidnapped and Dan tracks the child to the house +where she is hidden, and rescues her. The wealthy aunt of the little +heiress is so delighted with Dan’s courage and many good qualities +that she adopts him as her heir.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Tony the Hero:</span> A Brave Boy’s +Adventure with a Tramp. +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the +control of Rudolph Rugg, a thorough rascal. After much abuse Tony runs +away and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. Tony is heir to a +large estate. Rudolph for a consideration hunts up Tony and throws him +down a deep well. Of course Tony escapes from the fate provided for him, +and by a brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and Tony is prosperous. +A very entertaining book.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">The Errand Boy;</span> or, How Phil Brent +Won Success. By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> +<p class="s">The career of “The Errand Boy” embraces the city +adventures of a smart country lad. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted +innkeeper, named Brent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way for the +hero’s subsequent troubles. A retired merchant in New York secures +him the situation of errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Tom Temple’s Career.</span> +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton +village to seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission +to California. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that +the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have been +reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger’s most fascinating +style.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="s">For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price +by the publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<p class="lb">BOOKS FOR BOYS.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy.</span> +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Frank Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for +himself and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York he obtains a +situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to a +wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helps +the lad to gain success and fortune.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Tom Thatcher’s Fortune.</span> +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports +his mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John +Simpson’s factory. Tom is discharged from the factory and starts +overland for California. He meets with many adventures. The story is told +in a way which has made Mr. Alger’s name a household word in so many +homes.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">The Train Boy.</span> +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his +mother and sister by selling books and papers on the Chicago and Milwaukee +Railroad. He detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a young +lady. In a railway accident many passengers are killed, but Paul is fortunate +enough to assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitude takes him into his +employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is well started on the +road to business prominence.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Mark Mason’s Victory.</span> +The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy. +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who +pluckily won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many +difficulties. This story will please the very large class of boys who +regard Mr. Alger as a favorite author.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">A Debt of Honor.</span> +The Story of Gerald Lane’s Success in the Far West. +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials and +disappointments which he passed through before he attained success, will +interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful +author.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">Ben Bruce.</span> +Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. +By <span class="sc">Horatio Alger, Jr.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his +efforts, and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final +success, are most interesting to all readers. The tale is written in Mr. +Alger’s most fascinating style.</p> + +<p class="l"><span class="lb">The Castaways;</span> +or, On the Florida Reefs. +By <span class="sc">James Otis.</span> +<br /> +<span class="m">12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.</span></p> + +<p class="s">This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the Sea +Queen leaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the +coast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through her +rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the leeward. +The adventures of Ben Clark, the hero of the story and Jake the cook, +cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr. Otis is a +prime favorite.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="s">For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price +by the publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.</p> + +<hr class="break" /> + +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes</h3> + +<p>Typographical errors have been left as found, including: +</p> +<ul> +<li>“I do not love him,” ending with a comma in chapter 4.</li> +<li>“siezed” and “doubtfullly” in chapter 5.</li> +<li>“soliloqized” in chapter 16.</li> +<li>“Eactly” in chapter 18.</li> +<li>“ascertainel” in chapter 22.</li> +<li>“San Farncisco” in chapter 23.</li> +<li>“Stauss” in chapter 29.</li> +<li>“thas” in chapter 33.</li> +<li>“utmust” in chapter 35.</li> +</ul> +<p>Dialect has been left as printed, even where inconsistent.</p> +<p>Accented letters and ligatures have been removed in the plain text +version.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADRIFT IN NEW YORK ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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