summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/52616-h/52616-h.htm
blob: c6a59a45a3d08b71def6c2c53e392d4c74dfdf1c (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484
8485
8486
8487
8488
8489
8490
8491
8492
8493
8494
8495
8496
8497
8498
8499
8500
8501
8502
8503
8504
8505
8506
8507
8508
8509
8510
8511
8512
8513
8514
8515
8516
8517
8518
8519
8520
8521
8522
8523
8524
8525
8526
8527
8528
8529
8530
8531
8532
8533
8534
8535
8536
8537
8538
8539
8540
8541
8542
8543
8544
8545
8546
8547
8548
8549
8550
8551
8552
8553
8554
8555
8556
8557
8558
8559
8560
8561
8562
8563
8564
8565
8566
8567
8568
8569
8570
8571
8572
8573
8574
8575
8576
8577
8578
8579
8580
8581
8582
8583
8584
8585
8586
8587
8588
8589
8590
8591
8592
8593
8594
8595
8596
8597
8598
8599
8600
8601
8602
8603
8604
8605
8606
8607
8608
8609
8610
8611
8612
8613
8614
8615
8616
8617
8618
8619
8620
8621
8622
8623
8624
8625
8626
8627
8628
8629
8630
8631
8632
8633
8634
8635
8636
8637
8638
8639
8640
8641
8642
8643
8644
8645
8646
8647
8648
8649
8650
8651
8652
8653
8654
8655
8656
8657
8658
8659
8660
8661
8662
8663
8664
8665
8666
8667
8668
8669
8670
8671
8672
8673
8674
8675
8676
8677
8678
8679
8680
8681
8682
8683
8684
8685
8686
8687
8688
8689
8690
8691
8692
8693
8694
8695
8696
8697
8698
8699
8700
8701
8702
8703
8704
8705
8706
8707
8708
8709
8710
8711
8712
8713
8714
8715
8716
8717
8718
8719
8720
8721
8722
8723
8724
8725
8726
8727
8728
8729
8730
8731
8732
8733
8734
8735
8736
8737
8738
8739
8740
8741
8742
8743
8744
8745
8746
8747
8748
8749
8750
8751
8752
8753
8754
8755
8756
8757
8758
8759
8760
8761
8762
8763
8764
8765
8766
8767
8768
8769
8770
8771
8772
8773
8774
8775
8776
8777
8778
8779
8780
8781
8782
8783
8784
8785
8786
8787
8788
8789
8790
8791
8792
8793
8794
8795
8796
8797
8798
8799
8800
8801
8802
8803
8804
8805
8806
8807
8808
8809
8810
8811
8812
8813
8814
8815
8816
8817
8818
8819
8820
8821
8822
8823
8824
8825
8826
8827
8828
8829
8830
8831
8832
8833
8834
8835
8836
8837
8838
8839
8840
8841
8842
8843
8844
8845
8846
8847
8848
8849
8850
8851
8852
8853
8854
8855
8856
8857
8858
8859
8860
8861
8862
8863
8864
8865
8866
8867
8868
8869
8870
8871
8872
8873
8874
8875
8876
8877
8878
8879
8880
8881
8882
8883
8884
8885
8886
8887
8888
8889
8890
8891
8892
8893
8894
8895
8896
8897
8898
8899
8900
8901
8902
8903
8904
8905
8906
8907
8908
8909
8910
8911
8912
8913
8914
8915
8916
8917
8918
8919
8920
8921
8922
8923
8924
8925
8926
8927
8928
8929
8930
8931
8932
8933
8934
8935
8936
8937
8938
8939
8940
8941
8942
8943
8944
8945
8946
8947
8948
8949
8950
8951
8952
8953
8954
8955
8956
8957
8958
8959
8960
8961
8962
8963
8964
8965
8966
8967
8968
8969
8970
8971
8972
8973
8974
8975
8976
8977
8978
8979
8980
8981
8982
8983
8984
8985
8986
8987
8988
8989
8990
8991
8992
8993
8994
8995
8996
8997
8998
8999
9000
9001
9002
9003
9004
9005
9006
9007
9008
9009
9010
9011
9012
9013
9014
9015
9016
9017
9018
9019
9020
9021
9022
9023
9024
9025
9026
9027
9028
9029
9030
9031
9032
9033
9034
9035
9036
9037
9038
9039
9040
9041
9042
9043
9044
9045
9046
9047
9048
9049
9050
9051
9052
9053
9054
9055
9056
9057
9058
9059
9060
9061
9062
9063
9064
9065
9066
9067
9068
9069
9070
9071
9072
9073
9074
9075
9076
9077
9078
9079
9080
9081
9082
9083
9084
9085
9086
9087
9088
9089
9090
9091
9092
9093
9094
9095
9096
9097
9098
9099
9100
9101
9102
9103
9104
9105
9106
9107
9108
9109
9110
9111
9112
9113
9114
9115
9116
9117
9118
9119
9120
9121
9122
9123
9124
9125
9126
9127
9128
9129
9130
9131
9132
9133
9134
9135
9136
9137
9138
9139
9140
9141
9142
9143
9144
9145
9146
9147
9148
9149
9150
9151
9152
9153
9154
9155
9156
9157
9158
9159
9160
9161
9162
9163
9164
9165
9166
9167
9168
9169
9170
9171
9172
9173
9174
9175
9176
9177
9178
9179
9180
9181
9182
9183
9184
9185
9186
9187
9188
9189
9190
9191
9192
9193
9194
9195
9196
9197
9198
9199
9200
9201
9202
9203
9204
9205
9206
9207
9208
9209
9210
9211
9212
9213
9214
9215
9216
9217
9218
9219
9220
9221
9222
9223
9224
9225
9226
9227
9228
9229
9230
9231
9232
9233
9234
9235
9236
9237
9238
9239
9240
9241
9242
9243
9244
9245
9246
9247
9248
9249
9250
9251
9252
9253
9254
9255
9256
9257
9258
9259
9260
9261
9262
9263
9264
9265
9266
9267
9268
9269
9270
9271
9272
9273
9274
9275
9276
9277
9278
9279
9280
9281
9282
9283
9284
9285
9286
9287
9288
9289
9290
9291
9292
9293
9294
9295
9296
9297
9298
9299
9300
9301
9302
9303
9304
9305
9306
9307
9308
9309
9310
9311
9312
9313
9314
9315
9316
9317
9318
9319
9320
9321
9322
9323
9324
9325
9326
9327
9328
9329
9330
9331
9332
9333
9334
9335
9336
9337
9338
9339
9340
9341
9342
9343
9344
9345
9346
9347
9348
9349
9350
9351
9352
9353
9354
9355
9356
9357
9358
9359
9360
9361
9362
9363
9364
9365
9366
9367
9368
9369
9370
9371
9372
9373
9374
9375
9376
9377
9378
9379
9380
9381
9382
9383
9384
9385
9386
9387
9388
9389
9390
9391
9392
9393
9394
9395
9396
9397
9398
9399
9400
9401
9402
9403
9404
9405
9406
9407
9408
9409
9410
9411
9412
9413
9414
9415
9416
9417
9418
9419
9420
9421
9422
9423
9424
9425
9426
9427
9428
9429
9430
9431
9432
9433
9434
9435
9436
9437
9438
9439
9440
9441
9442
9443
9444
9445
9446
9447
9448
9449
9450
9451
9452
9453
9454
9455
9456
9457
9458
9459
9460
9461
9462
9463
9464
9465
9466
9467
9468
9469
9470
9471
9472
9473
9474
9475
9476
9477
9478
9479
9480
9481
9482
9483
9484
9485
9486
9487
9488
9489
9490
9491
9492
9493
9494
9495
9496
9497
9498
9499
9500
9501
9502
9503
9504
9505
9506
9507
9508
9509
9510
9511
9512
9513
9514
9515
9516
9517
9518
9519
9520
9521
9522
9523
9524
9525
9526
9527
9528
9529
9530
9531
9532
9533
9534
9535
9536
9537
9538
9539
9540
9541
9542
9543
9544
9545
9546
9547
9548
9549
9550
9551
9552
9553
9554
9555
9556
9557
9558
9559
9560
9561
9562
9563
9564
9565
9566
9567
9568
9569
9570
9571
9572
9573
9574
9575
9576
9577
9578
9579
9580
9581
9582
9583
9584
9585
9586
9587
9588
9589
9590
9591
9592
9593
9594
9595
9596
9597
9598
9599
9600
9601
9602
9603
9604
9605
9606
9607
9608
9609
9610
9611
9612
9613
9614
9615
9616
9617
9618
9619
9620
9621
9622
9623
9624
9625
9626
9627
9628
9629
9630
9631
9632
9633
9634
9635
9636
9637
9638
9639
9640
9641
9642
9643
9644
9645
9646
9647
9648
9649
9650
9651
9652
9653
9654
9655
9656
9657
9658
9659
9660
9661
9662
9663
9664
9665
9666
9667
9668
9669
9670
9671
9672
9673
9674
9675
9676
9677
9678
9679
9680
9681
9682
9683
9684
9685
9686
9687
9688
9689
9690
9691
9692
9693
9694
9695
9696
9697
9698
9699
9700
9701
9702
9703
9704
9705
9706
9707
9708
9709
9710
9711
9712
9713
9714
9715
9716
9717
9718
9719
9720
9721
9722
9723
9724
9725
9726
9727
9728
9729
9730
9731
9732
9733
9734
9735
9736
9737
9738
9739
9740
9741
9742
9743
9744
9745
9746
9747
9748
9749
9750
9751
9752
9753
9754
9755
9756
9757
9758
9759
9760
9761
9762
9763
9764
9765
9766
9767
9768
9769
9770
9771
9772
9773
9774
9775
9776
9777
9778
9779
9780
9781
9782
9783
9784
9785
9786
9787
9788
9789
9790
9791
9792
9793
9794
9795
9796
9797
9798
9799
9800
9801
9802
9803
9804
9805
9806
9807
9808
9809
9810
9811
9812
9813
9814
9815
9816
9817
9818
9819
9820
9821
9822
9823
9824
9825
9826
9827
9828
9829
9830
9831
9832
9833
9834
9835
9836
9837
9838
9839
9840
9841
9842
9843
9844
9845
9846
9847
9848
9849
9850
9851
9852
9853
9854
9855
9856
9857
9858
9859
9860
9861
9862
9863
9864
9865
9866
9867
9868
9869
9870
9871
9872
9873
9874
9875
9876
9877
9878
9879
9880
9881
9882
9883
9884
9885
9886
9887
9888
9889
9890
9891
9892
9893
9894
9895
9896
9897
9898
9899

<!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 Adventures of a Telegraph Boy, or “Number 91”, by Horatio Alger, Jr.
    </title>
    <style type="text/css">

body {
    margin-left: 10%;
    margin-right: 10%;
}

    h1,h2 {
    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
    clear: both;
}

p {
    margin-top: .51em;
    text-align: justify;
    margin-bottom: .49em;
}

/*Modified horizontal rules to fix ePub display issue*/
hr {
    width: 33%;
    margin-top: 2em;
    margin-bottom: 2em;
    margin-left: 33.5%;
    margin-right: 33.5%;
    clear: both;
}

hr.tb   {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;}
hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;}
/*End modified horizontal rule CSS*/

.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
    /*  visibility: hidden;  */
    position: absolute;
    left: 92%;
    font-size: smaller;
    text-align: right;
} /* page numbers */

.boxcontents{
    max-width: 22em;
    padding: 1em;
    border: 0em solid black;
    margin: 0 auto; }

.boxit{
    max-width: 30em;
    padding: 1em;
    border: 0em solid black;
    margin: 0 auto; }

.center   {text-align: center;}

.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}

.caption  {font-weight: bold;}

/*Right alignment*/
.marginrightindent{text-align:right;margin-right:0.75em;}

/* Images */
.figcenter   {
    margin: auto;
    text-align: center;
}

/* Transcriber's notes */
.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
    color: black;
     font-size:smaller;
     padding:0.5em;
     margin-bottom:5em;
     font-family:sans-serif, serif; }

/*CSS to set font sizes*/
/*font sizes for non-header font changes*/
.xxlargefont{font-size: xx-large}
.xlargefont{font-size: x-large}
.largefont{font-size: large}
.mediumfont{font-size: medium}
.boldfont{font-weight:bold}
.titlefont{font-size:medium}

/*CSS to force a page break in ePub*/
div.chapter {page-break-before: always;}

/*Half-title page CSS*/
#half-title
{
  text-align: center;
  font-size: x-large;
}

@media screen
{
  #half-title
  {
    margin: 6em 0;
  }
}

@media print, handheld
{
  #half-title
  {
    page-break-before: always;
    page-break-after: always;
    margin: 0;
    padding-top: 6em;
  }
}
/*End half-title page CSS*/

/*CSS markup for handhelds -- put at end of CSS*/
@media handheld
{
  img {max-width: 100%; height: auto;} /*Limit width to display*/

  h2.no-break
  {
    page-break-before: avoid;
    padding-top: 0;
  }
}
/*End CSS for handhelds*/

    </style>
  </head>
<body>
<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52616 ***</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 573px;">
<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" width="573" height="850" alt="Cover" />
</div>

<div style="padding-top:4em">
<div class="boxcontents">
<p class="xlargefont center boldfont">CONTENTS</p>

<p>

<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->

<a href="#CHAPTER_I_PAUL_THE_TELEGRAPH_BOY">I. PAUL, THE TELEGRAPH BOY.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_II_THE_CORTLANDT_STREET_FERRY">II. THE CORTLANDT STREET FERRY.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_III_OLD_JERRY_THE_MISER">III. OLD JERRY THE MISER.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_IV_A_STRANGE_COMMISSION">IV. A STRANGE COMMISSION.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_V_AN_EXCITING_INTERVIEW">V. AN EXCITING INTERVIEW.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_VI_PAUL_MAKES_A_STRANGE_DISCOVERY">VI. PAUL MAKES A STRANGE DISCOVERY.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_VII_PAUL_RESOLVES_TO_MOVE">VII. PAUL RESOLVES TO MOVE.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII_PAUL_MOVES_TO_LUDLOW_STREET">VIII. PAUL MOVES TO LUDLOW STREET.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_IX_PAUL_BECOMES_A_CAPITALIST">IX. PAUL BECOMES A CAPITALIST.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_X_PAUL_LOSES_HIS_BANK_BOOK">X. PAUL LOSES HIS BANK BOOK.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XI_AT_THE_SAVINGS_BANK">XI. AT THE SAVINGS BANK.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XII_JAMES_BARCLAYS_DISAPPOINTMENT">XII. JAMES BARCLAY’S DISAPPOINTMENT.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII_JAMES_BARCLAY_AT_HOME">XIII. JAMES BARCLAY AT HOME.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV_ON_THE_TRACK_OF_NUMBER_91">XIV. ON THE TRACK OF NUMBER 91.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XV_BARCLAY_GETS_INTO_BUSINESS">XV. BARCLAY GETS INTO BUSINESS.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI_AN_UNEXPECTED_MEETING">XVI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII_A_QUEER_COMPACT">XVII. A QUEER COMPACT.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII_JAMES_BARCLAY_OBTAINS_A_CLEW">XVIII. JAMES BARCLAY OBTAINS A CLEW.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX_OLD_JERRY_RECEIVES_A_VISIT">XIX. OLD JERRY RECEIVES A VISIT.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XX_JAMES_BARCLAY_COMES_TO_GRIEF">XX. JAMES BARCLAY COMES TO GRIEF.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI_THE_FANCY_DRESS_PARTY">XXI. THE FANCY DRESS PARTY.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII_THE_YOUNG_MINSTRELS">XXII. THE YOUNG MINSTRELS.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII_THE_PICKPOCKET">XXIII. THE PICKPOCKET.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV_A_ROOM_AT_THE_ALBEMARLE_HOTEL">XXIV. A ROOM AT THE ALBEMARLE HOTEL.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV_OLD_JERRYS_WEALTH">XXV. OLD JERRY’S WEALTH.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI_ELLEN_BARCLAYS_DISCOVERY">XXVI. ELLEN BARCLAY’S DISCOVERY.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII_JERRY_DISCOVERS_HIS_LOSS">XXVII. JERRY DISCOVERS HIS LOSS.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII_JERRY_FINDS_A_NEW_RELATION">XXVIII. JERRY FINDS A NEW RELATION.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX_A_NEW_COMMISSION">XXIX. A NEW COMMISSION.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX_PAULS_RECEPTION_AT_ROCKVILLE">XXX. PAUL’S RECEPTION AT ROCKVILLE.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI_A_DEFEAT_FOR_THE_HOUSEKEEPER">XXXI. A DEFEAT FOR THE HOUSEKEEPER.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII_FROST_MERCER_IS_CONTRARY">XXXII. FROST MERCER IS CONTRARY.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII_A_STARTLING_DISCOVERY">XXXIII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV_A_PLOT_AGAINST_PAUL">XXXIV. A PLOT AGAINST PAUL.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV_PAUL_RETURNS_TO_NEW_YORK">XXXV. PAUL RETURNS TO NEW YORK.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI_JAMES_BARCLAY_REAPPEARS">XXXVI. JAMES BARCLAY REAPPEARS.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII_JAMES_BARCLAYS_SCHEME">XXXVII. JAMES BARCLAY’S SCHEME.</a><br />
<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII_CONCLUSION">XXXVIII. CONCLUSION.</a><br />

<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->

</p></div></div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
<p id="half-title">Adventures of a Telegraph Boy</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 427px;">
<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="427" height="650" alt="" />
<div class="caption"><p>“FORTY DOLLARS!” EXCLAIMED OLD JERRY. “I’M IN LUCK
FOR ONCE.”</p></div>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 408px;">
<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="408" height="650" alt="Title Page" />
</div>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<h1>Adventures<br />of a Telegraph Boy<br /><span class="mediumfont">OR</span><br /><span class="xlargefont">“Number 91”</span></h1>


<p class="center xlargefont" style="margin-top:2em">By<br />Horatio Alger, Jr.</p>

<p class="center">Author of<br />“Tom Tracy,” “Ned Newton,”<br />“Walter Griffith,” etc.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 120px; margin-top:2em">
<img src="images/titlepage_fig.jpg" width="120" height="157" alt="Title Page Logo" />
</div>

<p class="center" style="margin-top:2em">New York and Boston<br />
<span class="largefont">H. M. Caldwell Company</span><br />
Publishers
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p class="center"><em>Copyright, 1889</em><br />
<span class="smcap">By Frank H. Lovell &amp; Co.</span></p>

<p class="center" style="margin-top:1em"><em>Copyright, 1900</em><br />
<span class="smcap">By Street &amp; Smith</span></p>

<p class="center" style="margin-top:3em">Adventures of a Telegraph Boy
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>


<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p class="center xxlargefont" style="margin-bottom:1em">ADVENTURES OF A<br />NEW YORK TELEGRAPH BOY.</p>


<h2 class="no-break"><a name="CHAPTER_I_PAUL_THE_TELEGRAPH_BOY" id="CHAPTER_I_PAUL_THE_TELEGRAPH_BOY">CHAPTER I.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL, THE TELEGRAPH BOY.</span></a></h2>


<p>On Broadway, not far from the St. Nicholas Hotel,
is an office of the American District Telegraph. Let
us enter.</p>

<p>A part of the office is railed off, within which the
superintendent has a desk, and receives orders for
boys to be sent to different parts of the city. On
benches in the back part of the office are sitting
perhaps a dozen boys varying in age from fifteen to
eighteen, clad in the well known blue uniform prescribed
by the company. Each wears a cap on which
may be read the initials of the company, with the
boy’s number.</p>

<p>At the end of the benches sat a stout, well made
boy, apparently sixteen years of age. He had a warm,
expressive face, and would generally be considered
good looking.</p>

<p>On his cap we read this inscription:</p>

<p class="center">A. D. T.<br />
91.
</p>

<p>Some of the boys were smaller, two or three larger
than Number 91. But among them all, he was the
most attractive in appearance. The boys sat on the
benches in patience waiting for a call from the superintendent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
They were usually selected in turn, but
sometimes the fitness of a particular boy for the
errand required was taken into consideration.</p>

<p>“Number 87!” called the superintendent.</p>

<p>A small boy of fifteen, but not looking over thirteen,
left his seat and advanced to the desk.</p>

<p>“No, I don’t think you’ll do,” said the superintendent
“There’s a man at the New England Hotel
who wants a boy to go down with him to the Cortlandt
Street Ferry, and carry his valise. A larger
boy will be required.”</p>

<p>He glanced at the boys in waiting and called:</p>

<p>“Number 91!”</p>

<p>The boy of whom we have spoken rose with
alacrity, and stepped up to the desk. He had been
sitting on the bench for an hour, and was glad of an
opportunity to go out on an errand.</p>

<p>The superintendent wrote on a card the name “D.
L. Meacham, New England Hotel,” and handed it to
the boy.</p>

<p>“Go at once to the New England Hotel, and call
for that gentleman,” he said. “If he is not in, wait
for him.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

<p>Paul Parton, for this was his name, did not need
any further directions. He was perfectly acquainted
with the city, especially in the lower part, where he
had lived for years. He crossed Broadway, and, taking
an easterly course, made his way to the Bowery,
on which, at the corner of Bayard Street, the New
England Hotel stands. This is a very respectable
inn, and by its fair accommodations and moderate
prices attracts a large number of patrons.</p>

<p>Entering, Paul advanced to the desk.</p>

<p>“Is Mr. D. L. Meacham in?” he asked, referring
to the card given him by the superintendent.</p>

<p>“Here he is!” replied, not the clerk to whom the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
question was addressed, but a tall, elderly man with
gray hair, clad in a rusty suit, evidently a gentleman
from the rural districts.</p>

<p>“Are you the telegraph boy?” he asked.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

<p>“I want to go down to the ferry to take the train
to Philadelphia.”</p>

<p>“All right, sir. Is this your valise?” asked Paul,
pointing to a shabby traveling bag that might, from
its appearance, have been used by Noah when he was
on board the ark.</p>

<p>“Yes, that’s mine.”</p>

<p>“Do you want to start now, Mr. Meacham?”</p>

<p>“Well, I might as well. I hain’t got nothing to
keep me here. How fur is it?”</p>

<p>“About a mile. Perhaps a little more.”</p>

<p>Paul took the valise in his hand, and went out of
the hotel, followed by the old man.</p>

<p>“Do you know the way all round here, sonny?” he
asked.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

<p>“Well, it beats me. I get turned round, and don’t
know where I am. If it wasn’t for that, I could have
gone to the ferry alone. But land’s sake! I might
wander all round till tomorrow morning without
finding it.”</p>

<p>“Then I guess it’s better to have a boy with you,”
said Paul, laughingly.</p>

<p>“You look like a smart boy,” said the old man,
attentively examining Number 91. “Do you like your
business?”</p>

<p>“Pretty well,” answered Paul.</p>

<p>“Is the pay pretty good?”</p>

<p>“I get four dollars a week.”</p>

<p>“That’s more than I got when I was your age,
sonny.”</p>

<p>“It doesn’t go very far in the city, when you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
your board and clothes to pay for,” replied the young
telegraph messenger.</p>

<p>“That’s so. I didn’t think of that. I was reared
on a farm, where they didn’t make much account of
the victuals you ate.”</p>

<p>“We have to make account of it here, sir.”</p>

<p>“So you don’t have much left out of your four
dollars?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; but I get rather more than four dollars.
Sometimes the gentlemen I am working for give me
a little extra for myself.”</p>

<p>“How much does that come to&mdash;in a week?”</p>

<p>“Well, sometimes I make a dollar or two extra. It
depends a good deal on whether I fall in with liberal
gentlemen or not. I don’t mean this as a hint, sir,”
added Paul, smiling. “I am not entitled to anything
extra, but, of course, when it is offered I
take it.”</p>

<p>Paul had a motive in saying this. He abhorred
the idea of seeming to beg for a gratuity. Besides,
judging from the appearance and rusty attire of the
old man, he decided that he was poor, and could not
afford to pay anything over the regular charges.</p>

<p>“I see,” said the old farmer, as Paul supposed him
to be, with a responsive smile. “You’re right there,
sonny. If you’re offered a little extra money, it’s all
right to take it.”</p>

<p>By this time they had reached the City Hall Park,
and were crossing it. Then, as now, the Park
swarmed with bootblacks of all sizes, provided with
the implements of their trade.</p>

<p>Frequently, in the rivalry which results from active
competition, the little fellows are pushed aside, and
the bigger and stronger boys take possession of the
customers they have secured. There was a case of
this sort which fell under the attention of Paul and
his elderly companion.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>

<p>A pale, delicate looking boy of twelve was signaled
by a gentleman, a rod or two from the City Hall. He
hastened eagerly to secure a job, but unhappily the
signal had also been seen by a bigger boy, larger, if
anything, than Paul, and he, too, ran to get in ahead
of the smaller boy. Without ceremony, he put out
his foot and tripped little Jack, and with a triumphant
laugh sped on to the expectant customer. The
little boy, who had been bruised by the fall, rose
crying and disappointed.</p>

<p>“That’s mean, Tom Rafferty,” he said. “The gentleman
called me.”</p>

<p>Tom only responded by another laugh. With him,
might made right, and the dominating law was the
will of the stronger.</p>

<p>“Oh, you’ll get another soon,” he said.</p>

<p>He got down on his knees, and placed his box in
position. But all was not to be as smooth sailing as
he expected. Paul, with a blaze of honest indignation,
had seen the outrage. He was not surprised,
for he knew both boys.</p>

<p>“Never mind, Jack,” he said. “I’ll fix it all right.</p>

<p>“Please mind the valise a minute, sir,” he added, and
rather to the surprise of Mr. Meacham, he left him
standing in the park, while he darted forward, seized
Tom Rafferty by the collar, pulled him over backwards,
and called, “Now, Jack!”</p>

<p>The little boy, emboldened by this unexpected
help, ran up, and took Tom’s place at the foot of the
customer.</p>

<p>“I’m the boy you called, sir,” he said.</p>

<p>“That’s true, my boy. Go ahead! Only be quick!”
said the gentleman.</p>

<p>Tom Rafferty was furious.</p>

<p>“Don’t you know any better, you overgrown bully,
than to get away little boys’ jobs?” asked Paul, indignantly.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>

<p>“I’ll mash yer!” roared Tom.</p>

<p>“You mean if you can,” said the undaunted Paul.</p>

<p>“You think you’re a gentleman, just because you’re
a telegraph boy. I could be a telegraph boy myself
if I wanted ter.”</p>

<p>“Go ahead&mdash;I have no objection.”</p>

<p>“I’ll give that little kid the worst lickin’ he ever
had, soon as he gets through, see ef I don’t.”</p>

<p>“Do it if you dare!” said Paul, his eyes flashing.
“If you do, I’ll thrash you.”</p>

<p>“You dassn’t.”</p>

<p>“Remember what I say, Tom Rafferty. Now, Mr.
Meacham, we’ll go on. I hope you’ll excuse me for
keeping you waiting.”</p>

<p>“Yes, I will, sonny. It did me good to see you
pitching into that young bully. I’d like to have done
it myself.”</p>

<p>“I know both boys, sir. Little Jack is the son of
a widow, who sews for a living, and she can’t make
enough to support the family, and he has to go out
and earn what he can by shines. He is small and
weak, and the big boys impose upon him.”</p>

<p>“I’m glad he has some friends; Number 91, you’re
a brave boy.”</p>

<p>“I don’t know about that, sir. But I can’t stand
still and see a little kid like that imposed upon by a
big brute like Tom Rafferty.”</p>

<p>They crossed Broadway, and presently neared
Cortlandt Street. Just at the corner stood an old
man, with bent form and white hair, dressed with
extreme shabbiness. His hand was extended, and he
was silently asking for alms.</p>

<p>Paul’s cheek flushed, and an expression of mortification
swept over his face.</p>

<p>“Grandfather!” he said, reproachfully. “Please
go home! Don’t beg in the streets. You make me
ashamed!”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II_THE_CORTLANDT_STREET_FERRY" id="CHAPTER_II_THE_CORTLANDT_STREET_FERRY">CHAPTER II.<br /><span class="titlefont">THE CORTLANDT STREET FERRY.</span></a></h2>


<p>The old man turned, and, recognizing Paul, looked
somewhat ashamed.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I couldn’t help it,” he whined. “I’m so poor.”</p>

<p>“There is no need for you to beg. I’ll bring you
some money tonight.”</p>

<p>“Just for a little while. See, a kind gentleman
gave me that,” and he displayed a silver dime.</p>

<p>Paul looked very much annoyed.</p>

<p>“If you don’t stop begging, grandfather,” he said,
“I won’t come home at all. I’ll go and sleep at the
Newsboys’ Lodge.”</p>

<p>The old man looked frightened. Paul turned in
every week two dollars and a half of his wages, and
old Jerry had no wish to lose so considerable a sum.</p>

<p>“I’ll go&mdash;I’ll go right away,” he said, hastily.</p>

<p>“Be sure you do. If you don’t I shall hear of it,
and you won’t see me any more.”</p>

<p>Just then a policeman of the Broadway squad,
whose business it was to pilot passengers across
through the maze of vehicles, took the old man in
tow, and led him carefully across the great thoroughfare.</p>

<p>Mr. Meacham had watched in attentive silence this
interview between Paul and the old man.</p>

<p>“So that is your grandfather,” he said.</p>

<p>“I call him so,” answered Paul, slowly.</p>

<p>“You call him so!” repeated his companion, puzzled.
“Isn’t he really your grandfather?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>

<p>“No, sir; but as I have lived with him ever since
I was very small, I have got into the habit of calling
him so.”</p>

<p>“When did your father die?”</p>

<p>“When I was about six years old. He only left a
hundred dollars or so, which Jerry took charge of,
and took me to live with him. We were living in
the same tenement house, and that’s how it came
about.”</p>

<p>“Is he so very poor?”</p>

<p>“I used to think so,” answered Paul, “till one day
I found out that he got a monthly pension from some
quarter in the city. I don’t know how much it is, but
I know he has money deposited in the Bowery Savings
Bank.”</p>

<p>“How did you find that out, Number 91?”</p>

<p>“I was walking along the Bowery one day on an
errand, when, as I was passing the bank, I saw
grandfather going up the steps. That made me
curious, and I beckoned to a friend of mine, Johnny
Woods, and asked him to go in and see what the old
man’s business appeared to be. I met Johnny that
evening and he told me that he saw grandfather
write out a deposit check and pay in money. I
couldn’t find out how much it was, but Johnny said
there were several bills in the sum.”</p>

<p>“Then your grandfather, as you call him, is a
miser.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, that’s about what it comes to.”</p>

<p>“In what way does he live?”</p>

<p>“We have a poor, miserable room in a tenement
on Pearl Street that costs us four dollars a month.
Grandfather is always groaning about having to pay
so much.”</p>

<p>“I suppose he doesn’t live very luxuriously?”</p>

<p>“Dry bread, and sometimes a little cheese, is what
he lives on. Sometimes Mrs. O’Connor, an Irish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
washerwoman, living in the room below, brings up a
plate of meat out of charity.”</p>

<p>Paul uttered the last word bitterly, as if he felt
keenly the mortification of the confession.</p>

<p>“But how can you look so well and strong on such
fare?” asked the old farmer, gazing not unadmiringly
at the red cheeks and healthy complexion of
the young telegraph boy.</p>

<p>“I don’t take my meals with grandfather. He
wanted me to hand in all my money, and share his
meals, but I told him I should die in a week if I had
to live like him, so he agreed to let me pay him
two dollars and a half a week, and use the rest for
myself. I generally eat at some restaurant on the
Bowery.”</p>

<p>“But that must cost you more than a dollar and
a half a week.”</p>

<p>“So it does, sir, but I get a dollar or two extra on
fees from parties that employ me.”</p>

<p>“Even then, at the prices I paid at the New England
Hotel, I shouldn’t think you could buy three
meals a day.”</p>

<p>“What do you take me for, Mr. Meacham&mdash;a
Vanderbilt or an Astor?” asked Paul, smiling. “I
might as well go to Delmonico’s or the Fifth Avenue
Hotel as to the New England House.”</p>

<p>“Where do you eat, then?”</p>

<p>“Generally at the Jim Fisk restaurant on Chatham
Street.”</p>

<p>“Is that a cheap restaurant?”</p>

<p>“I can get a good breakfast there for eight cents,
and a good dinner for eleven.”</p>

<p>Mr. Meacham looked surprised.</p>

<p>“What on earth can you get for those prices?” he
asked.</p>

<p>“I can get a cup of coffee, eggs, fish balls, or mutton
stew, with bread and butter, for eight cents,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
said Paul. “The coffee costs three cents, the other
five. Then, for dinner, all kinds of meat cost eight
cents a plate, and bread and butter thrown in.”</p>

<p>“That’s cheap enough certainly. Is it good?”</p>

<p>“It’ll do,” said Paul, briefly. “Last Sunday I got
roast turkey. That cost twelve cents.”</p>

<p>“Great Scott!” ejaculated the farmer. “I never
dreamed of how people live here in this great city.”</p>

<p>“You see we can’t all of us eat at Delmonico’s.”</p>

<p>“Did your grandfather ever eat at your restaurant?”</p>

<p>“Once I invited him, and told him I would pay
the bill. He ate a square meal, meat, coffee, and pie,
costing sixteen cents. He seemed to relish it very
much, but when we were going away he groaned
over my extravagance, and predicted that I would
die in the poorhouse. I’ve never succeeded in getting
him there since.”</p>

<p>“Well, well,” said the farmer, “of all the fools
on the footstool, I believe the biggest is the man
who deprives himself of vittles to save up money
for somebody else to spend. I’m too selfish, for my
part.”</p>

<p>“There isn’t a day that grandfather doesn’t groan
over my foolish extravagance,” continued Paul.
“Sometimes it makes me laugh, but oftener it makes
me ashamed.”</p>

<p>“You don’t feel much attachment to him, then?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; perhaps I ought, as he has been my
guardian so long, but you saw him yourself, sir&mdash;a
poor, shabby, dirty old man! How can I feel attached
to him?”</p>

<p>“I confess it must be hard.”</p>

<p>“You don’t think me much to blame, do you?”</p>

<p>“I don’t think you to blame at all. Affection
must be natural, and there seems to be no ground
for it in this case. But isn’t that the ferry?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

<p>They crossed the street and entered the ticket
office of the Cortlandt Street Ferry. Paul set
down the valise, while Mr. Meacham secured a
ticket.</p>

<p>“Now, Number 91,” said the old man, “how much
do I owe you?”</p>

<p>Paul stated the sum, and Mr. Meacham put it in
his hand.</p>

<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Paul, touching his cap.</p>

<p>“Stop a minute; here is something for yourself,”
said his companion, taking out a silver dollar from
his purse.</p>

<p>Paul regarded the old man with undisguised
amazement.</p>

<p>“Are you surprised to get so much?” asked the
old man with a smile.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir; I&mdash;” and he hesitated.</p>

<p>“You thought me a poor man, perhaps a mean
man?”</p>

<p>“No, sir, not that; but I thought you not rich.”</p>

<p>“Don’t always judge by the clothes a man wears,
Number 91. I own a large farm, and fifty thousand
dollars in railroad stocks. That is rich for the
country.”</p>

<p>“I don’t often get so much as this, sir.”</p>

<p>“I suppose not. But I have got a good deal of
information out of you. I have heard much that
surprised me, that I couldn’t have learned in any
other way. So you are welcome to the dollar, and I
think I have got my money’s worth.”</p>

<p>“I am very much obliged to you, sir.”</p>

<p>“That’s all right. Now, Number 91&mdash;by the way,
what is your real name?”</p>

<p>“Paul Parton, sir.”</p>

<p>“Then, Paul, if you ever come my way, I should
like to have you spend a week or a month on my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
farm, as a visitor. I live in Lancaster, Pennsylvania,
about a couple of miles from the city, and I’ll promise
to give you enough to eat at less than you have
to pay at the Jim Fisk restaurant.”</p>

<p>Paul thanked him with a smile, and turned to
leave the ferry.</p>

<p>In the waiting room was a tall, bearded man, who
looked something like a miner, as indeed he was,
just returned from a long sojourn in California.</p>

<p>“Excuse me, boy,” he said, advancing towards our
hero. “Do you mind telling me your name?”</p>

<p>“My name is Paul Parton,” answered the telegraph
boy, with a glance of surprise.</p>

<p>“Were you ever in California?”</p>

<p>“Not that I know of, sir.”</p>

<p>“It’s strange!” said the miner, reflectively.</p>

<p>“What is strange, sir?”</p>

<p>“You are the living image of a man I used to know
a dozen or fourteen years since in California. Were
you born in New York?”</p>

<p>“I think so, sir&mdash;I don’t know.”</p>

<p>“Is your father living?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; I live with an old man who is not related
to me.”</p>

<p>“Was your father ever in California?”</p>

<p>“He may have been, sir; but I was so young
when he died that I don’t know much about his history.”</p>

<p>“What is that number on your cap?”</p>

<p>“I am Number 91, and work for the District Telegraph
Company.”</p>

<p>“Number 91? Well, my boy, I hope you’ll excuse
the liberty I took in addressing you. The California
miners are rather unceremonious. I suppose you
think it strange?”</p>

<p>“No, sir, not at all,” returned Paul, politely. “I
am glad to have made your acquaintance.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>

<p>As he left the ferry, and lost sight of his questioner,
he regretted that he had not at least inquired
his name.</p>

<p>“He may have known my father,” thought Paul,
“and I should be glad to meet some of his friends.
I don’t think old Jerry knows much about him. I
am getting tired of living with the old man, and
should like to meet some relative or friend of whom
I need not be ashamed.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III_OLD_JERRY_THE_MISER" id="CHAPTER_III_OLD_JERRY_THE_MISER">CHAPTER III.<br /><span class="titlefont">OLD JERRY THE MISER.</span></a></h2>


<p>At six o’clock every other day Paul was let off
from the office, other days he stayed much later.</p>

<p>On this particular day he was dismissed at six, and
bent his steps homeward. He paused in front of a
tall, shabby brick tenement house, unsightly in its
surroundings, and abounding inside in unsavory
smells, and took his way up the creaking staircase
to a room on the fourth floor. He opened the
door and entered.</p>

<p>The room was bare and cheerless in the extreme.
The floor was uncarpeted, and if it had ever been
painted it retained no vestiges of it. Two chairs, one
broken, a small table which would have been dear at
fifty cents, a low bedstead in one corner with a dirty
covering&mdash;there were no sheets&mdash;and a small cot bed
which Paul occupied&mdash;these were about all that
could claim the name of furniture. There was, however,
a wooden chest, originally a sailor’s, probably,
which the telegraph boy used to hold the few extra
clothes he possessed.</p>

<p>Old Jerry was sitting on one side of the bedstead.</p>

<p>“Good evening, grandfather,” said Paul, cheerfully.</p>

<p>“It isn’t a good ev’ning,” answered the old man,
querulously. “I&mdash;I haven’t made a cent today.”</p>

<p>“I thought you got ten cents by begging,” said
Paul.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I forgot that. I might have got more if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
hadn’t interfered. You are very hard on your poor
old grandfather, Paul.”</p>

<p>“I can’t bear to have you beg,” said Paul, his
brows contracting. “I don’t want to have it said
that I live with a beggar.”</p>

<p>“It isn’t my fault that I am very poor, Paul.”</p>

<p>“Are you so very poor?” asked Paul, pointedly.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;of course I am. What do you mean, Paul?”
asked the old man, his manner indicating alarm.
“Don’t you <em>know</em> I am very poor?”</p>

<p>“I know you say so.”</p>

<p>“Of course I am. Did any one ever tell you I
wasn’t?”</p>

<p>“This room looks like it at any rate,” answered
Paul, looking about with ill concealed disgust.</p>

<p>He didn’t choose to say anything of the discovery
he had made, through his friend Johnny Woods, of
old Jerry’s deposit in the Bowery Savings Bank.</p>

<p>“Yes, yes, and it is more than I can afford. Four
dollars a month is an awful price. I have often
thought I must find a cheaper room.”</p>

<p>“You couldn’t easily find a poorer one,” said Paul,
moodily. “Well, grandfather, have you had your
supper?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I have eaten a piece of bread.”</p>

<p>“That isn’t enough for you, grandfather. If you
will come out with me I will get you some supper at
the Jim Fisk restaurant.”</p>

<p>“No, no, Paul; I can’t afford it. It is sinful extravagance.”</p>

<p>“I can get you a cup of tea and some corn beef
hash for eight cents. That isn’t much. Don’t you
think you would enjoy a cup of tea?”</p>

<p>“Yes, Paul, it would do me good, if I could afford
it.”</p>

<p>“But I will pay for it.”</p>

<p>“Oh, Paul, you will die in the poorhouse if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
are so wasteful. The money that you have spent at
that eating house would bring joy to the heart of
your old grandfather.”</p>

<p>“Look here,” said Paul, who could not bring his
mind to calling the old man grandfather, as he had
often done before. “It’s no use talking. You may
starve yourself if you want to, but I don’t mean to.
I’m going out to supper now. If you go with me
I’ll pay for your supper, and it shan’t cost you a
cent. I am sure you would like a good cup of tea.”</p>

<p>For an instant an expression of longing crept over
the face of the old miser, but it was soon succeeded
by a look of cunning and greed.</p>

<p>“It would cost eight cents, wouldn’t it, Paul?” he
said.</p>

<p>“Yes, but that isn’t much. If you’d like a plate
of roast beef and a cup of tea, I’ll buy it for you.
They will cost only eleven cents. So put on your
hat, and we will go out together.”</p>

<p>“Wait a minute, Paul,” said the old man. “Would
you mind giving me the money instead&mdash;eleven
cents?”</p>

<p>“No, I don’t mind, but I would rather you would
go out with me. How do you expect to keep soul
and body together without anything but dry bread
and cold water?”</p>

<p>“I’m so poor, Paul; I can’t afford anything better,”
whined old Jerry.</p>

<p>“I see it’s no use talking to you,” said Paul, in a
vexed tone. “Well, if you prefer to have me give you
the money, here it is.”</p>

<p>He took from his pocket a dime and a penny, and
passed it over to the old man.</p>

<p>Old Jerry chuckled, and a smile crept over his
wrinkled features, as he eagerly clutched the coins.</p>

<p>“Good boy, Paul!” he said. “That’s right, to be
kind to your poor old grandfather.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>

<p>“Well, I’m going out to supper,” said Paul,
abruptly, for it was painful to him to witness this
evidence of the old man’s infatuation. “I’ll be back
soon.</p>

<p>“That’s a guardian to be proud of,” he said, bitterly,
as he made his way carefully down the rickety
staircase. “Who can blame me for not liking him?
I don’t believe I can make up my mind to call him
grandfather again. After all, why should I? He is
no relation of mine, and I am glad of it.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV_A_STRANGE_COMMISSION" id="CHAPTER_IV_A_STRANGE_COMMISSION">CHAPTER IV.<br /><span class="titlefont">A STRANGE COMMISSION.</span></a></h2>


<p>The life of a telegraph boy is full of variety and
excitement. He never knows when he goes to the
office in the morning on what errands he may be
sent, or what duties he may be called upon to discharge.
He may be sent to Brooklyn, or Jersey City,
with a message&mdash;sometimes even farther away. He
may be detained to supply the place of an absent
office boy, or sent up town to go out and walk with
a child. In the evening he may be directed to accompany
a lady to the theater as escort. These are
a few of the uses to which telegraph messenger
boys are put.</p>

<p>Of course Paul had had his share of varied commissions.
But the day after that on which our story
opens, a new duty awaited him.</p>

<p>It was about five o’clock that the superintendent
called “Number 91.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Paul, promptly.</p>

<p>“You are to go up to No. &mdash;&mdash;, West Fifty First
Street, to spend the night.”</p>

<p>Paul looked surprised.</p>

<p>“To spend the night?” he repeated.</p>

<p>“Yes, the head of the household has been called
away for a day or two, and there is no man in the
house. Mrs. Cunningham is timid, and has sent for
a boy to protect the house against possible burglars.”</p>

<p>The superintendent smiled, and so did Paul.</p>

<p>“I guess I can do it,” he said.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>

<p>“Very well, you will report at the house about
seven o’clock.”</p>

<p>“Can I go home and tell grandfather? He might
be alarmed if I didn’t come home.”</p>

<p>“Yes; I will give you an extra half hour for supper.”</p>

<p>At seven o’clock Paul rang the bell of a handsome
brown stone mansion on West Fifty First Street.</p>

<p>The door was opened by a servant girl.</p>

<p>“I was sent for by Mrs. Cunningham,” said Paul.</p>

<p>“Yes, the missis is expecting you. Come right in!”</p>

<p>Paul observed, as he followed the girl upstairs into
a sitting room on the second floor, that the house was
very handsomely furnished&mdash;and came to the natural
conclusion that the occupants were rich.</p>

<p>“Just take a seat, and I’ll tell the missis,” said the
girl.</p>

<p>Paul sat down in a plush covered arm chair, and
looked about him admiringly. “I wonder how it
must seem to live in such a house as this,” he reflected.
And then his thoughts went back to the
miserable tenement house in which he and his grandfather
lived, and he felt more disgusted with it than
ever, after the sight of this splendor.</p>

<p>His reflections were interrupted by the entrance of
a pleasant faced lady.</p>

<p>“Are you the boy I sent for?” she asked, with a
smile.</p>

<p>“Yes, ma’am,” answered Paul, respectfully, rising
as he spoke.</p>

<p>“I suppose you know why I want you,” proceeded
the lady.</p>

<p>“Yes, ma’am; I was told there were only ladies in
the house, and you wanted a man to sleep here.”</p>

<p>“I am afraid you can hardly be called a man,”
said the lady with another smile. “Still you are not
a woman or girl, and I shall feel safer for having you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
here. I am afraid I am a sad coward. What is your
name?”</p>

<p>“Paul&mdash;Paul Parton.”</p>

<p>“That is a nice name.”</p>

<p>“My husband has been called to Washington,” she
added, after a pause, “and will be absent possibly
ten nights. Knowing my timidity, he recommended
my sending for a messenger boy. I may say, however,
that I have some reason for alarm. Two houses
in this block have been entered at night within a
month. Besides, through a thieving servant, who
was probably a confederate of thieves, it has become
known that we keep some valuables in a safe in the
library, and this may prove a temptation.”</p>

<p>At this moment an extremely pretty girl of fourteen
entered the room, and looked inquiringly at
Paul.</p>

<p>“Jennie,” said Mrs. Cunningham, “this is Paul
Parton, who is to protect and defend us tonight, if
necessary.”</p>

<p>Jennie regarded Paul with a smile.</p>

<p>“Won’t you be afraid?” she asked.</p>

<p>“No, miss,” answered Paul, who was instantly impressed
in favor of the pretty girl whose acquaintance
he was just making.</p>

<p>“I’m not easily frightened,” he answered.</p>

<p>“Then you’re different from mamma and me. We
are regular scarecrows&mdash;no, that isn’t the word. I
mean we are regular cowards. Still, with a brave
and strong man in the house,” she added, with an
arch smile, “we shall feel safe.”</p>

<p>“I hope you will be,” said Paul</p>

<p>“It is still early,” said Mrs. Cunningham. “Have
you had your supper, Paul?”</p>

<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>

<p>“We shall not retire before ten&mdash;Jennie, you can
entertain this young gentleman, if you like.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>

<p>“All right, mamma&mdash;if I can&mdash;that is, if he isn’t
hard to entertain. Do you play dominoes, Paul?”</p>

<p>“Yes, miss.”</p>

<p>“O, don’t call me miss&mdash;I don’t mind your calling
me Jennie.”</p>

<p>The two sat down to a game of dominoes, and were
soon on the friendliest possible terms.</p>

<p>After a while, seeing a piano in the room, Paul
asked the young lady if she played.</p>

<p>“Yes; would you like to hear me?”</p>

<p>“If you please.”</p>

<p>After three or four pieces, she asked&mdash;“Don’t you
sing?”</p>

<p>“Not much,” answered Paul, bashfully.</p>

<p>“Sing me something, won’t you?”</p>

<p>Paul blushed, and tried to excuse himself.</p>

<p>“I don’t sing any but common songs,” he said.</p>

<p>“That’s what I want to hear.”</p>

<p>After a while Paul mustered courage enough to
sing “Baby Mine,” and another song which he had
heard at Harry Miner’s.</p>

<p>They were not classical, but the young lady seemed
to enjoy them immensely. They were quite unlike
what she had been accustomed to hear, and perhaps
for that reason she enjoyed them the more.</p>

<p>“I think you sing splendidly,” she said.</p>

<p>Of course Paul blushed, and put in a modest disclaimer.
Still he felt pleased, and decided that
Jennie Cunningham was the nicest girl he had ever
met.</p>

<p>“But what would she say,” he thought, “if she
could see the miserable place I live in?” and the perspiration
gathered on his face at the mere thought.</p>

<p>At ten o’clock Mrs. Cunningham suggested that it
was time to go to bed.</p>

<p>“Paul, you will sleep in a little bedroom adjoining
the library,” she said.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>

<p>“All right, ma’am.”</p>

<p>“Come with me and I will show you your bedroom.”</p>

<p>It was a pleasant room, though small, and seemed
to Paul the height of luxury.</p>

<p>“Shall I leave with you my husband’s revolver?”
asked the lady.</p>

<p>“Yes, ma’am, I would like it.”</p>

<p>“Do you understand the use of revolvers?”</p>

<p>“Yes; I have practiced some with them in a shooting
gallery.”</p>

<p>“I hope there will be no occasion to use it.
I don’t think there will. But it is best to be prepared.”</p>

<p>Paul threw himself on the bed in his uniform in
order to be better prepared to meet any midnight
intruder.</p>

<p>“It won’t do to sleep too sound,” he thought, “or
the house might be robbed without my knowing it.”</p>

<p>He was soon fast asleep. It might have been because
he had the matter on his mind that about midnight
he woke up. A faint light had been left burning
in the chandelier in the library. Was it imagination
on Paul’s part that he thought he heard a noise
in the adjoining room? Instantly he was on the
alert.</p>

<p>“It may be a burglar!” he thought, with a thrill
of excitement.</p>

<p>He got up softly, reached for the revolver, and
with a stealthy step advanced to the door that
opened into the library.</p>

<p>What he saw was certainly startling.</p>

<p>A man, tall and broad shouldered, was on his knees
before the safe, preparing to open it.</p>

<p>“What are you doing there?” demanded the telegraph
boy, firmly.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 429px;">
<img src="images/p026.jpg" width="429" height="650" alt="" />
<div class="caption"><p class="center">THE INTERRUPTED BURGLAR.&mdash;See page 27.</p></div>
</div>

<p>The man sprang to his feet, and confronted Paul<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
standing with a revolver in his hand pointed in his
direction.</p>

<p>“O, it’s a kid!” he said, contemptuously.</p>

<p>“What are you doing there?” repeated Paul.</p>

<p>“None of yer business! Go back to bed!”</p>

<p>“Leave this house or I fire!”</p>

<p>The man thought of springing upon the boy, but
there was something in his firm tone that made him
think it best to parley. A revolver, even in a boy’s
hand, might prove formidable.</p>

<p>“Go to bed, or I’ll kill you!” said the burglar, with
an ugly frown.</p>

<p>“I will give you two minutes to leave this room
and the house!” said Paul. “If you are here at the
end of that time I fire!”</p>

<p>There was an expression of baffled rage on the
face of the low browed ruffian as he stood bending
forward, as if ready to spring upon the undaunted
boy.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V_AN_EXCITING_INTERVIEW" id="CHAPTER_V_AN_EXCITING_INTERVIEW">CHAPTER V.<br /><span class="titlefont">AN EXCITING INTERVIEW.</span></a></h2>


<p>For a full minute Paul and the burglar faced each
other without either moving. The telegraph boy of
course waited for some aggressive movement on the
part of his opponent. In that case he would not
hesitate to fire. He felt the reluctance natural to
any boy of humane instincts to take human life, and
resolved, if possible, only to disable the ruffian. His
heart quickened its pulsations, but in manner he was
cool, cautious and collected. If the burglar had
seen any symptoms of timidity or wavering, he
would have sprung upon Paul. As it was, he was
afraid to do so, and was enraged at himself because
he felt cowed and intimidated by a boy. He resolved
to inspire fear in Paul if he could.</p>

<p>“I have a great mind to kill you,” he growled.</p>

<p>“Two can play at that game,” said Paul, undaunted.</p>

<p>“Look here! You are making a fool of yourself.
You are risking your life for nothing.”</p>

<p>“I am only doing my duty,” said Paul, firmly.</p>

<p>“The kid’s in earnest,” thought the burglar. “I
must try him on another tack.</p>

<p>“Look here,” he said, changing his tone. “You
are a poor boy, ain’t you?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“Just you lower that weapon, and don’t interfere
with me, and I will make it worth your while.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>

<p>“What do you mean?” asked Paul, who, however,
suspected the burglar’s meaning.</p>

<p>“I mean this,” said the intruder, in an insinuating
tone. “Let me open the safe and make off with the
contents, and I’ll give you a liberal share of it.”</p>

<p>“What do you take me for?” demanded Paul, indignantly.</p>

<p>“For a boy, of course. What do you care for the
people in the house? They are rich and can afford
to lose what will make us rich. Let me know where
you live, and I’ll deal squarely with you. I mean it.
All you’ve got to do is to go back to bed, and they’ll
think you slept through and didn’t see me at all.
What do you say?”</p>

<p>“I say no a thousand times!” answered Paul,
boldly. “I may be poor all my life long, but I won’t
be a thief.”</p>

<p>The burglar’s face expressed the rage he felt. It
was very hard for him to resist the impulse to spring
upon Paul, but the resolute mien of the boy satisfied
him that it would be very dangerous.</p>

<p>“You refuse then?” he said, sullenly.</p>

<p>“Yes; you insult me by your proposal.”</p>

<p>“I wish I had brought a pistol; then you wouldn’t
have dared speak to me in that way.”</p>

<p>Paul was relieved to hear this. He had concluded
that the burglar was unarmed, but didn’t know it
positively. Now he could dismiss all fear.</p>

<p>“Well,” he said, “are you going?”</p>

<p>The burglar eyed our hero during a minute of indecision,
and decided that his plan was a failure.
He certainly could not open the safe within range of
a loaded revolver, and should he attack Paul, would
not only risk his life, but rouse the house, and fall
into the hands of the police, a class of men he made
it his business to avoid. It was a bitter pill to
swallow, but he must submit.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>

<p>“Will you promise not to shoot if I agree to leave
the house?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“Will you promise not to start the burglar alarm,
but allow me to escape without interference?”</p>

<p>“Yes, if you will agree never to enter this house
again.”</p>

<p>“All right!”</p>

<p>“You promise?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I do.”</p>

<p>“Then I’ll go. If you break your word, boy, you’ll
wish you had never been born,” he added, fiercely.
“I’d hunt you night and day after I got out of jail,
and kill you like a dog.”</p>

<p>“You need not be afraid. I will keep my word.”
There was something in Paul’s tone and manner
that inspired confidence.</p>

<p>“You ain’t a bad sort!” said the burglar, paying an
involuntary tribute to the boy’s staunch honesty.
“You’re a cool kind of kid, any way. What an honor
you’d make to our profession!”</p>

<p>Paul could not help smiling.</p>

<p>“I suppose that’s a compliment,” he said. “Thank
you. Now I must trouble you to go.”</p>

<p>“I’m going! Remember your promise!”</p>

<p>In an instant the burglar was out of the window,
through which he had made his entrance, and disappeared
from sight. Paul did not approach the window,
lest his doing so should excite alarm in the
rogue. When a sufficient time had elapsed he ran to
the window, closed it, and once more breathed freely.
The danger was passed, and he began now to feel
the tension to which his nerves had been subjected.</p>

<p>“Has anything happened, Paul?” asked a voice.
Turning, Paul saw Mrs. Cunningham at the door.
She had thrown a wrapper over her, and, attracted
by the sound of voices, had entered the library.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>

<p>“Has any burglar been here?” she asked, nervously,
observing Paul with the revolver in his hand.</p>

<p>“Yes,” answered the telegraph boy; “I have just
bidden the gentleman good night.”</p>

<p>By this time Jennie, too, made her appearance.
“What is it, mamma? What is it, Paul?” she
asked. “Why are you standing there with the revolver
in your hand?”</p>

<p>Paul told the story as briefly as the circumstances
would admit.</p>

<p>“It was a mercy you were awake!” said Mrs. Cunningham.
“Did you hear the noise of the man’s entrance?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know how I happened to wake up,” said
Paul. “I generally sleep sound. But I opened my
eyes, and immediately heard a noise in this room.”</p>

<p>“But did you have time to dress?” asked Jennie.</p>

<p>“I did not need to do so, for I threw myself on the
bed with my clothes on.”</p>

<p>“And with your cap on?” inquired Jennie with an
arch smile.</p>

<p>“No, but when I rose from the bed I put it on
without thinking. I don’t know whether I ought to
have let the burglar get off free, but I thought it the
easiest way to avoid trouble.”</p>

<p>“You did right. I approve your conduct,” said Mrs.
Cunningham. “You seem to have acted with remarkable
courage and discretion.”</p>

<p>“I am very glad if you are pleased, madam,” said
Paul, gratified at this cordial indorsement.</p>

<p>“Weren’t you awfully scared, Paul?” asked Jennie
Cunningham.</p>

<p>“Well, I was a little scared, I admit,” answered
Paul, with a smile, “but I didn’t think it wise to show
it before the burglar.”</p>

<p>“My hand would have trembled so that I couldn’t
hold the pistol,” declared the young lady.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>

<p>“Of course; you are a girl, you know.”</p>

<p>“Don’t you think girls are brave, then?”</p>

<p>“They are not called upon to be brave in the same
way.”</p>

<p>“A good answer,” said Mrs. Cunningham. “And
now, Jennie, we had better go back to bed. Will you
not be afraid to sleep here the rest of the night after
this adventure?” she asked, turning to Paul.</p>

<p>“No, Mrs. Cunningham. The burglar won’t feel
like coming back.”</p>

<p>“What’s that?” asked Jennie, pointing to some
article on the floor.</p>

<p>“It is the burglar’s jimmy,” said Paul, stooping to
pick it up. “He left in such a hurry that he forgot
to take it with him. I will carry it into my room,
and take care of it.”</p>

<p>Paul bade the two visitors good night and threw
himself once more on the bed. The remainder of
the night passed quietly. The midnight visitor did
not reappear.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI_PAUL_MAKES_A_STRANGE_DISCOVERY" id="CHAPTER_VI_PAUL_MAKES_A_STRANGE_DISCOVERY">CHAPTER VI.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL MAKES A STRANGE DISCOVERY.</span></a></h2>


<p>The next morning Mrs. Cunningham insisted on
Paul’s taking breakfast with her before he returned
to the telegraph office. Though it was a new experience
to Paul sitting down at a luxuriously furnished
table, in a refined family, he was possessed of a natural
good breeding, which enabled him to appear to
advantage.</p>

<p>He was flattered by the cordial manner in which Mrs.
Cunningham and her daughter treated him, and he
was tempted to ask himself whether he was the same
boy that had lived for years in a squalid tenement
house, under the guardianship of a ragged and
miserly old man. Being gifted with a “healthy appetite,”
Paul did not fail to appreciate the dainty
rolls, tender meat, and delicious coffee with which he
was served.</p>

<p>“I can’t get such a breakfast as this at the ‘Jim
Fisk’ restaurant,” thought Paul. “Still, that is a
good deal better than I could get at home.”</p>

<p>“I am not sure whether I shall need you tonight,
Paul,” said Mrs. Cunningham, as they rose from the
breakfast table. “It is not certain whether Mr.
Cunningham will be at home or be detained over
another night at Washington.”</p>

<p>“I shall be glad to come if you need me,” said
Paul.</p>

<p>“I think I will have you come up, at any rate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
about seven o’clock,” said the lady. “I will write a
line to the superintendent to that effect.”</p>

<p>“Very well, ma’am.”</p>

<p>When Paul presented himself at the office he was
the bearer of a note to the superintendent.</p>

<p>That official showed some surprise as he read it.</p>

<p>“So you drove away a burglar, Number 91?” he
said.</p>

<p>“I believe I frightened him away,” answered Paul.</p>

<p>“Humph! Was he a little fellow?”</p>

<p>“No, a large man.”</p>

<p>“And he was afraid of you?” continued the superintendent,
surprised.</p>

<p>“He was afraid of my revolver,” amended Paul.</p>

<p>The superintendent asked more questions, being
apparently interested in the matter.</p>

<p>“The lady wishes you to go up again tonight,” he
said.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, so she told me, but it is not certain that
I shall have to stay all night.”</p>

<p>“Of course you are to go.”</p>

<p>As the telegraph office would receive a good round
sum for Paul’s services, the superintendent was very
willing to send him up.</p>

<p>At noon Paul went home.</p>

<p>The tenement house seemed still more miserable
and squalid, as he clambered up the rickety staircase.
He mentally contrasted it with the elegant
mansion in which he had spent the night, and it disgusted
him still more with the wretched surroundings
of the place he called home.</p>

<p>He was about to open the door of old Jerry’s room,
when he was arrested by the sound of voices. Jerry’s,
high pitched and quavering, was familiar enough to
him, but there seemed something familiar, also, in
the voice of the other, and yet he could not identify
it with any of Jerry’s acquaintances.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>

<p>There was a round hole in the door, the origin of
which was uncertain, and Paul, knowing that he was
at liberty to enter, did not think it wrong to reconnoiter
through it before doing so.</p>

<p>To his intense surprise, the face of the visitor,
visible to him through the opening, was that of the
burglar whom he had confronted the night before.</p>

<p>“What can he have to do with Jerry?” Paul asked
himself, in bewilderment.</p>

<p>Just then the man spoke.</p>

<p>“The fact is, father, I am hard pressed, and must
have some money.”</p>

<p>Paul’s amazement increased. Was this burglar the
son of old Jerry? He remembered now having
heard Jerry refer to a son who had left him many
years ago, and who had never since been heard of.</p>

<p>“I have no money, James,” whined the old man.
“I am poor&mdash;very poor.”</p>

<p>“I’ve heard that talk before,” said the son, contemptuously;
“and I know what it means.”</p>

<p>“But I am poor,” repeated old Jerry, eagerly. “I
don’t get enough to eat. All I can afford is bread
and water.”</p>

<p>“How much money have you got in the bank?”
asked James.</p>

<p>“Wh&mdash;what makes you ask that?” asked the old
man, in an agitated voice.</p>

<p>“Ha! I have hit the nail on the head,” said the
visitor with an unpleasant laugh.</p>

<p>“You see how poor I am,” said the old man.
“Does this poor room look as if I had money?”</p>

<p>“No, it doesn’t, but I know you of old, father. I
suppose you are the same old miser you used to be.
I shouldn’t wonder if you could raise thousands of
dollars if you chose.”</p>

<p>“Hear him talk!” ejaculated the old man, raising
his feeble arm in despairing protest. “I&mdash;I haven’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
got any money except a few cents that Paul brought
me yesterday.”</p>

<p>“And who is Paul?” asked the son, quickly.</p>

<p>“He is a boy I took years ago when he was very
small. I&mdash;I took him out of charity.”</p>

<p>“Very likely. That’s so like you,” sneered the
son. “I warrant you have got more out of him than
he cost you.”</p>

<p>This was true enough, as Paul could testify. He
was only six when he came under the old man’s care,
but even at that tender age he was sent out on
the street to sell papers and matches, and old
Jerry tried to induce him to beg; but that was
something the boy had always steadfastly refused
to do.</p>

<p>He had an independent, self respecting spirit,
which made him ashamed to beg. He was always
willing to work, and to work hard, and he generally
had an opportunity to do so. This will relieve Paul
from the charge of ingratitude, for he had always
paid his own way, and really owed Jerry nothing.</p>

<p>“He&mdash;he has cost me a great deal,” whined Jerry,
“but I knew his father, and I could not turn him
out into the streets.”</p>

<p>“And how old is this boy now?” asked the son.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I think he is about sixteen.”</p>

<p>“He ought to be able to earn something. What
does he do?”</p>

<p>“He is a telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“Ha!” exclaimed the burglar with a scowl, for the
word provoked disagreeable memories of the previous
night. “I hate telegraph boys.”</p>

<p>“Paul is a good boy&mdash;a pretty good boy, but he
eats a sight.”</p>

<p>The son indulged in a short laugh.</p>

<p>“How does he like your boarding house?” he
asked.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>

<p>“He doesn’t eat here; he goes to a restaurant. He
spends piles of money!” groaned the old man.</p>

<p>“Telegraph boys are not generally supposed to
revel in riches,” said the son in a sarcastic tone. “It’s
so much out of your pocket, eh?”</p>

<p>“Yes,” groaned the old man. “If he would give
me all his wages I should be very comfortable.”</p>

<p>“But he wouldn’t. From what I know of your
table, father, I think he would starve to death in a
month. I haven’t forgotten how you starved me
when I was a kid.”</p>

<p>“You look strong and well now,” said old Jerry.</p>

<p>“Yes, but no thanks to you! But to business!
How much money have you got?”</p>

<p>“Very little, James. I have eleven cents that Paul
gave me yesterday.”</p>

<p>“Bah! You are deceiving me. Where is your
bank book?”</p>

<p>“I have none. What makes you ask such questions?”
demanded the old man, querulously. “I wish
you would go away.”</p>

<p>“That is a pretty way to treat a son you haven’t
seen for twelve years. Do you know what I am?”</p>

<p>“No.”</p>

<p>“Then I’ll tell you; for years I have been a burglar.”</p>

<p>Old Jerry looked frightened.</p>

<p>“You’re not in earnest, James?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I am. I ain’t proud of the business, but you
drove me to it.”</p>

<p>“No, no,” protested the old man.</p>

<p>“You made me work hard, and half starved me
when I was a boy, you gave me no chance of education,
and all to swell your paltry hoards. If I have
gone to the bad, you are responsible. But let that
drop. I’ve been unfortunate, and I want money.”</p>

<p>“I told you I had none, James.”</p>

<p>“And I don’t believe you. Hark you! I will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
come back tomorrow,” he said, with a threatening
gesture. “In the meanwhile, get fifty dollars from
the bank, and have it ready for me. Do you hear?”</p>

<p>“You must be mad, James!” said old Jerry, regarding
his son with a look of fear.</p>

<p>“I shall be, unless you have the money. I will go
now, but I shall be back tomorrow.”</p>

<p>Paul ran downstairs hastily, as he heard the
man’s heavy step approaching the door. He didn’t
care to be recognized by his unpleasant acquaintance
of the night previous.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII_PAUL_RESOLVES_TO_MOVE" id="CHAPTER_VII_PAUL_RESOLVES_TO_MOVE">CHAPTER VII.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL RESOLVES TO MOVE.</span></a></h2>


<p>After Jerry’s unwelcome visitor was well out of
the way, Paul returned to the room. He found old
Jerry trembling and very much distressed. The old
man looked up with startled eyes when he opened
the door.</p>

<p>“Oh, it’s you, Paul,” he said, in a tone of relief.</p>

<p>“Who did you think it was?” asked Paul, wishing
to draw out the old man.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I have had a visit from a bad man, who wanted
to rob me.”</p>

<p>“Who was it?”</p>

<p>“I’ll tell you, Paul, but it’s a secret, mind. It was
my son.”</p>

<p>“I didn’t know you had a son.”</p>

<p>“Nor I. I thought he might be dead, for I have
not seen him for twenty years. I am afraid he is
very wicked.”</p>

<p>“How did he find you out?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know. He&mdash;he frightened me very much.
He wanted me to give him money&mdash;and I so miserably
poor.”</p>

<p>Paul didn’t answer.</p>

<p>“You know how poor I am, Paul,” continued the
old man appealingly.</p>

<p>“You always say so, Jerry.”</p>

<p>The old man did not appear to notice that Paul
had ceased to call him grandfather.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>

<p>“And it’s true&mdash;of course it’s true. But he wants
me to pay him fifty dollars. He is coming back tomorrow.”</p>

<p>“But he can’t get it if you haven’t it to give.”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I don’t know. He was always bad tempered&mdash;James
was. I am afraid he might beat me.”</p>

<p>“What! Beat his father!” exclaimed Paul, indignantly.</p>

<p>“He might,” said the old man. “He wasn’t a good
boy like you. He always gave me trouble.”</p>

<p>“Are you really afraid he will come, grand&mdash;Jerry?”
asked Paul, earnestly.</p>

<p>“Yes, he is sure to come&mdash;he said so.”</p>

<p>“Then I think we had better move to another
place where he can’t find us.”</p>

<p>“Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;let us go,” said the old man, hurriedly.
“But, but,” he added, with a sudden thought, “we
have paid the rent here to the end of the month. I
can’t afford to lose that&mdash;I am so poor.”</p>

<p>“It will only be a dollar and a half; I will pay it,”
said Paul.</p>

<p>“Then I think I shall go. When shall we leave,
Paul?”</p>

<p>“This evening, Jerry, if I can get the time. I may
have to stay up town to guard a house where the
gentleman is absent, but it isn’t certain. If I do, I
will be here early in the morning, before I go to
work.”</p>

<p>This assurance seemed to abate the apprehensions
of the old man, who, it was evident, stood in great
fear of his son. Paul was obliged to take a hurried
leave of him in order to have time for lunch before
returning to the office.</p>

<p>“Who would have dreamed,” he said to himself,
“that the bold burglar whom I encountered last
night, was the son of old Jerry? One is as timid as
a mouse, the other seems like a daring criminal. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
wonder why Jerry never told me that he had a son.”</p>

<p>The discovery that Jerry had such a son made
Paul still more unwilling to own a relationship to
him. It was bad enough to pass for the grandson
of a squalid miser, but it was worse to be thought
the son or nephew of a burglar.</p>

<p>The day passed quietly. Paul was not sent out
much, on the supposition that he might have to
pass another night at the house of Mr. Cunningham.</p>

<p>About seven o’clock he rang the bell of the house
in Fifty First Street.</p>

<p>The same servant admitted him. This time she
received him with a smile, knowing that he stood
high with her mistress.</p>

<p>“Come right in,” she said. “The mistress will see
you in the sitting room.”</p>

<p>“Have you had any more visits from burglars?”
asked Paul.</p>

<p>“No; may be they’re waiting till night.”</p>

<p>“Has Mr. Cunningham got back?”</p>

<p>“No, but he’s expected at eight.”</p>

<p>Paul was glad to hear this, for he preferred not to
remain over night, as he knew that old Jerry would
need him.</p>

<p>When Paul entered the sitting room Mrs. Cunningham
received him cordially.</p>

<p>“I suppose you have not seen the burglar since,”
said Mrs. Cunningham, innocently.</p>

<p>She little dreamed what a discovery he had made,
and he did not think it wise to enlighten her.</p>

<p>“He has not called upon me,” answered Paul, with
justifiable evasion. “I don’t think I want to meet
him again.”</p>

<p>“I hope he will never present himself here,” said
the lady.</p>

<p>“He made me a promise that he would not,” said
Paul.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>

<p>“I suppose he wouldn’t mind breaking it.”</p>

<p>“No, but he may conclude that you would be on
your guard.”</p>

<p>“There is something in that,” said Mrs. Cunningham,
looking relieved. “My husband has telegraphed
me that he will be here at eight o’clock, but
I don’t want him to run the risk of encountering
such a man.”</p>

<p>“Then you won’t need me to remain here?”</p>

<p>“No; but I wish you to stay till Mr. Cunningham
returns. He will wish to see you.”</p>

<p>“Certainly, if you desire it,” said Paul, politely.</p>

<p>“My daughter will entertain you,” continued the
lady. “Here she is.”</p>

<p>“Good evening, Paul!” said Jennie, cordially extending
her hand, as she entered the room.</p>

<p>“Good evening!” responded Paul, brightening up.</p>

<p>“Would you like to play a game of dominoes?”</p>

<p>“I would be very glad to do so.”</p>

<p>“Then we’ll play ‘muggins.’ There’s more fun in
that than in the regular game.”</p>

<p>So the two sat down and were soon deeply immersed
in the game.</p>

<p>“Do you know, Paul,” said Jennie, suddenly, “I
feel as if I had known you for a long time, though it
is only about twenty four hours since we met.”</p>

<p>“I feel the same,” said Paul.</p>

<p>“I’m awfully glad they sent you here instead of
some other telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“Perhaps you would have liked another one better?”</p>

<p>“I don’t think I should, but I ought not to say so.
It may make you vain.”</p>

<p>“Are boys ever vain? I thought it was only
girls.”</p>

<p>“That’s a very impolite speech. I shall have to
give you a bad mark!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>

<p>“Then I’ll take it all back!”</p>

<p>“You’d better,” said Jennie, with playful menace.
“I hope you’ll come up some time when you are
not sent for on business!”</p>

<p>“I would like to very much, if your mother is
willing.”</p>

<p>“Why shouldn’t she be willing?”</p>

<p>“I am only a poor telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“I don’t mind that. I don’t see why a telegraph
boy isn’t as good as a boy in a store. My cousin
Mark is in a store.”</p>

<p>It will be seen that these young people were
rapidly coming to a very good understanding. Paul
was not in love, but he certainly did consider Jennie
Cunningham quite the nicest girl he had ever met.</p>

<p>So the time passed till Mr. Cunningham returned.
His wife informed him briefly of what had occurred.
They both entered the room together. He was a
man of middle age, a very pleasant and easy mannered
gentleman.</p>

<p>“Are you the boy who drove away the burglar?”
he asked, with a smile.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, I believe so,” answered Paul.</p>

<p>“Then let me add my thanks to those of my wife.
You have done us a great service.”</p>

<p>“I am very glad to have had the chance,” said
Paul.</p>

<p>“If you will come to my office tomorrow morning,”
continued Mr. Cunningham, “I will thank you in a
more effective way. Come at ten o’clock. As you
may find it difficult to leave the office otherwise, tell
the superintendent that I have an errand for you.”</p>

<p>“Very well, sir.”</p>

<p>“Here is my business card.”</p>

<p>Paid took the card and rose to go.</p>

<p>“Mamma,” said Jennie, “can’t you invite Paul to
call and see us sometimes?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>

<p>“Certainly,” said the lady, smiling. “After what
he has done he ought to have the freedom of the
house. We shall be glad to see you as a visitor,
Paul,” she said, kindly.</p>

<p>Paul left the house in a flutter of pleasant excitement.
He was quite determined to avail himself of
an invitation so agreeable.</p>

<p>He crossed over to Third Avenue, and returned
by the elevated railway to the home of old Jerry.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII_PAUL_MOVES_TO_LUDLOW_STREET" id="CHAPTER_VIII_PAUL_MOVES_TO_LUDLOW_STREET">CHAPTER VIII.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL MOVES TO LUDLOW STREET.</span></a></h2>


<p>In the evening Paul found old Jerry anxiously
awaiting him.</p>

<p>“Have you found a new room, Paul?” he asked,
eagerly.</p>

<p>“I haven’t had time,” Paul answered, “but I’ll go
at once and see about it.”</p>

<p>“James will be here tomorrow,” said the old man,
nervously, “and I&mdash;I am afraid of him. He is a bad
man. He wants me to give him money. You know I
have no money, Paul?” he concluded with a look of
appeal.</p>

<p>Now Paul knew that old Jerry had money, and he
could not truthfully answer as the old man desired
him.</p>

<p>“You say so, and that is enough,” he said.</p>

<p>“But it’s true,” urged Jerry, who understood the
doubt in Paul’s mind. “How could I get any money?
What you give me is all we have to live on.”</p>

<p>“That isn’t much, at any rate.”</p>

<p>“No, Paul, it isn’t much. Couldn’t you give me
half a dollar more? Two dollars and a half are
very little for me to live on and pay the rent,” whined
the old man.</p>

<p>The appeal would have moved Paul if he had not
suspected that the old man had a considerable sum
of money laid away. As it was, it only disgusted
him and made him feel angry at Jerry’s attempt to
deceive him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>

<p>“Are you sure you get no money except what I
give you?” he asked, pointedly.</p>

<p>“What do you mean, Paul?” demanded the old
man, looking alarmed. “What gave you the idea
that I had any other money?”</p>

<p>“At any rate,” said the telegraph boy, “you
haven’t any money to throw away on this son of
yours. I have no doubt he’s a bad man, as you say.”</p>

<p>“He was always bad and troublesome, James was,”
said old Jerry. “He was always wanting money
from the time he was a boy.”</p>

<p>“When he was a boy there was some reason for
his asking it, but now he is a man grown, isn’t he?”</p>

<p>“Yes, yes.”</p>

<p>“How old is he?”</p>

<p>“James must be nigh upon thirty,” answered
Jerry, after a little reflection. “You won’t hire too
expensive a room, Paul?” he added. “You know we
are poor, very poor!”</p>

<p>“Not unless I am willing to pay the extra cost
myself.”</p>

<p>“Don’t do that! Give me the extra money, Paul,”
said Jerry, with eager cupidity. “I&mdash;I find it hard
to get along with two dollars and a half a week.”</p>

<p>“You forget, Jerry,” said Paul, coldly, “that I
must have my meals. I can’t live without eating.”</p>

<p>“You eat too much, Paul, I’ve long thought so.
It’s hurtful to eat too much. It’s&mdash;it’s bad for the
health.”</p>

<p>“I’ll take the risk,” said Paul, with a short laugh.
“I am not afraid of dying of gout, Jerry, with my
present bill of fare.”</p>

<p>“If you wouldn’t mind my going out a few hours
every day, and asking kind gentlemen to help me,
Paul, we&mdash;we could get along better.”</p>

<p>“I won’t hear of it, Jerry,” said Paul, sternly. “If
I hear of your going out to beg I will leave you and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
go off and live by myself. Then there will be no
two dollars and a half coming to you every week.”</p>

<p>“No, no, don’t leave me, Paul,” said Jerry,
thoroughly alarmed by this threat. “I won’t go out
if you don’t want me to, though it’s very, very foolish
to stay in, when there are so many kind gentlemen
and ladies ready to give money to old Jerry.”</p>

<p>“Besides,” added Paul, “if you go out and stand
in the street, your son will sooner or later find you
out, and make trouble for you.”</p>

<p>“So he will, so he will,” chimed in the miser, with
the old look of alarm on his face. “You are right,
Paul, you are right. I must put it off. I&mdash;I wish
he would go away somewhere&mdash;to&mdash;to California, or
some place a great way off.”</p>

<p>Paul saw that he had produced the effect he intended
upon the old man’s mind, and went out at
once to look for a new room. He finally found one
some half mile farther up town, in Ludlow Street&mdash;a
little below Grand.</p>

<p>The room was better furnished than the one in
which he and Jerry had lived for some years. There
was a cheap carpet on the floor, a bed in one corner,
and a shabby but comfortable lounge, on which Paul
himself proposed to sleep. The rent was two dollars
a month more than they had been accustomed to pay,
but Paul concluded to say nothing of this to the old
man, but quietly to pay it out of his own pocket. It
would be but fifty cents a week, and he thought he
could make that extra sum in some way. He was
beginning to be more fastidious about his accommodations,
now that he had seen how people lived uptown.</p>

<p>In fact, Paul was becoming ambitious. It was a
very proper ambition, too. He had lived long enough
in a squalid, miserable room, and now he meant to
be better provided for.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>

<p>“I am getting older,” he said to himself. “I ought
to earn more money. I am sure I can somehow. I
will keep my eyes open and see what I can find.”</p>

<p>Paul resolved to buy a bureau, if he could get one
cheap, for at present he had absolutely no place in
which to keep his small stock of clothing. He did
not know exactly where the money was coming from,
but he was hopeful, and had faith in himself. He was
not waiting for something to turn up, as many lazy
boys do, but he meant himself to turn up something.</p>

<p>Having concluded a bargain for the room, paying
a dollar down, and promising to pay a further sum
on Saturday night when he received his weekly pay,
he returned to old Jerry.</p>

<p>“Well, Jerry,” he said cheerfully, “I’ve found a
room.”</p>

<p>“Where is it, Paul?”</p>

<p>“In Ludlow Street.”</p>

<p>“Then let us go&mdash;at once. James might change
his mind, and come round tonight. I don’t want to
see him. He is a bold, bad man.”</p>

<p>Paul suggested that they had better not leave
word with the neighbors where they were going, as
this might furnish a clew to James Barclay, and put
him on his father’s track.</p>

<p>Old Jerry eagerly assented to this, and the two
started for their new home. They had very little to
carry&mdash;at any rate, this was the case with the miser,
and Paul’s wardrobe was not too extensive for him
to carry it all with him at once.</p>

<p>When Jerry saw the room that Paul had engaged
he was alarmed.</p>

<p>“This&mdash;this is too fine for us, Paul,” he said. “We
can’t afford to pay for it. How much is the rent?”</p>

<p>“Six dollars a month,” answered Paul.</p>

<p>“We shall be ruined!” ejaculated Jerry, turning
pale.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>

<p>“It is two dollars more than we paid in the old
place,” said Paul, “but it won’t come out of you. I
will make a new arrangement with you&mdash;I will pay
the entire rent, and give you a dollar and a half a
week.”</p>

<p>“Make it two dollars, Paul,” said Jerry, in a coaxing
tone.</p>

<p>“What are you thinking of? Do you want to
starve me?” demanded Paul, sternly.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I am so poor, Paul,” whined the miser.</p>

<p>“So am I,” answered Paul, “but I must keep
enough to pay for my meals.”</p>

<p>Jerry saw that it would be useless to contest the
point further, and settled himself in his new quarters,
rather enjoying the improvement, but groaning
inwardly over Paul’s extravagance. Paul threw
himself on the lounge, after taking off his coat and
vest, and, covering himself with a blanket, was soon
sound asleep.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 399px;">
<img src="images/p054.jpg" width="399" height="650" alt="" />
<div class="caption"><p>PAUL THREW HIMSELF ON THE LOUNGE, AND SOON WAS
FAST ASLEEP.</p></div>
</div>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX_PAUL_BECOMES_A_CAPITALIST" id="CHAPTER_IX_PAUL_BECOMES_A_CAPITALIST">CHAPTER IX.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL BECOMES A CAPITALIST.</span></a></h2>


<p>Paul did not fail to meet the appointment at Mr.
Cunningham’s office the next morning. He had no
difficulty in getting away, for it was understood at
the office that he was wanted to run an errand and
his time would be paid for.</p>

<p>“You seem to be in with the Cunninghams, Number
91,” said the superintendent.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, they are very kind to me,” answered
Paul.</p>

<p>“That is well. We like to have boys on good
terms with customers. It increases the business of
the office.”</p>

<p>Mr. Cunningham was talking with another gentleman
when Paul entered his office.</p>

<p>“Sit down, Paul,” he said in a friendly tone, indicating
a chair. “I shall soon be at leisure, and then
I will attend to you.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, sir,” said the telegraph boy.</p>

<p>He had to wait about ten minutes. Then Mr.
Cunningham’s visitor left him, and he turned to
Paul.</p>

<p>“How is business this morning?” he asked, with a
smile.</p>

<p>“This is my first call, sir.”</p>

<p>“Oh, well, no doubt you will have plenty before
the day is over.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, I am engaged for the afternoon.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>

<p>“Indeed! And in what way?”</p>

<p>“I am to go shopping with a lady.”</p>

<p>“Can’t she go by herself there?”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, I suppose so, but she wants me to carry
her bundles.”</p>

<p>“Retail merchants generally send them home.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, but she once had one miscarry, and now
she prefers to take a boy with her.”</p>

<p>“How do you like that business?” asked Mr. Cunningham.</p>

<p>“It is rather tiresome,” answered Paul, “as the
lady is hard to suit and spends a good deal of time
in each store. However, there is one thing that
reconciles me to it.”</p>

<p>“What is that?”</p>

<p>“She is liberal, and always gives me something for
myself.”</p>

<p>“That is very considerate of her. I was speaking
of that to my wife this morning.”</p>

<p>“Of what, sir?” inquired Paul.</p>

<p>“We both decided that you were entitled to a
present for your brave defense of the house.”</p>

<p>Now I suppose it would have been the proper thing
for Paul to protest against receiving any present, but
I am obliged to record the fact that he had no objection
to having his services acknowledged in that
way.</p>

<p>“I only did my duty, sir,” he said, modestly.</p>

<p>“Very true, but that is no reason why I should not
show my appreciation of the service rendered. I
suppose you have no bank account?”</p>

<p>“I never got along as far as that, sir,” said Paul.</p>

<p>“Then I won’t give you a check, as it might inconvenience
you.”</p>

<p>Paul was a little surprised, for a bank check
sounded large, and the gratuities he usually received
seldom reached as high as fifty cents.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>

<p>Mr. Cunningham drew out his pocketbook, and,
taking out three bills, placed them in Paul’s hands.</p>

<p>Paul’s eyes expanded when he saw that the first
bill was a ten. But he was destined to be still more
surprised, for each of the other two was a twenty.
There was fifty dollars in all.</p>

<p>“Is all this for me?” he asked, almost incredulous.</p>

<p>“Yes, Paul.”</p>

<p>“But here are fifty dollars.”</p>

<p>“I am quite aware of it,” said the merchant,
smiling. “That is the exact sum I intended to give
you.”</p>

<p>“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Paul,
warmly. “To me it is a fortune.”</p>

<p>“Excuse my giving you advice, but I hope you will
spend it wisely.”</p>

<p>“I will try to do so, sir. I will put all but ten
dollars in a savings bank.”</p>

<p>“You could not do better. You may in time be
able to add to it.”</p>

<p>“I shall try to, sir, when I earn more money.”</p>

<p>“How much do you earn now?”</p>

<p>“With presents, it amounts to six or seven dollars
a week&mdash;sometimes less.”</p>

<p>“You can’t save out of that?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; I live with an old man, and give him two
dollars and a half a week for rent and other expenses.
Hereafter I am to give him three dollars. I should
give more, but I pay for my own meals.”</p>

<p>“Then you have no parents living?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; I am alone in the world.”</p>

<p>“Is the old man any relation to you?”</p>

<p>“No, sir.”</p>

<p>“When you need friends to call on you will always
be welcome at my house.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Paul, gratefully, and he decided
to avail himself of the invitation soon. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
was anxious to meet Jennie Cunningham again.
Having no sister, he had enjoyed scarcely any opportunities
of meeting girls, except such as sold matches
or papers in the streets, and these, for the most part,
were bold and unattractive.</p>

<p>Mr. Cunningham turned to his desk, and Paul saw
that his interview was over.</p>

<p>He did not like to carry around so much money.
He was liable to be robbed; that he could not afford.
So he resolved to go around to the Bowery Savings
Bank and deposit forty dollars, taking out a book.
Then he would feel safe as to that. The ten dollars
he had a use for, as he wished to buy a cheap bureau,
or trunk; he had not quite made up his mind which.</p>

<p>He took the shortest cut to the Bowery Savings
Bank. This is one of the largest and most important
savings banks in the city, and its deposits exceed
twenty millions. It is a blessing to thousands of
salaried men and women, mechanics and others, in
providing them a safe place of deposit for their surplus
money.</p>

<p>Paul entered the bank, and, going up to the proper
clerk, subscribed the books of the bank, giving his
age, and other particulars necessary to identification;
and then, rather to the surprise of the bank officer,
wrote out a deposit check for forty dollars.</p>

<p>“You have just been paid off, I take it,” he said
with a smile.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Paul.</p>

<p>“Two weeks’ pay, I presume?”</p>

<p>“I earned it in considerably less time than that,
sir.”</p>

<p>“Indeed!”</p>

<p>“Yes, I earned it all, and ten dollars besides, in
one night.”</p>

<p>“Then your business is better than mine. I should
be willing to exchange.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>

<p>“It isn’t a steady business,” said Paul.</p>

<p>“What is it?”</p>

<p>“Defending a house from burglars.”</p>

<p>“I am not quite sure how I should like that business;
there might be some risk attending it.”</p>

<p>Paul’s business was completed, and he prepared to
go away. The book he put in his pocket, and took
his way back to the office on Broadway. He began
to feel like a young capitalist. Forty dollars may
not seem a very large sum to some of my fortunate
readers, but Paul had never before possessed ten
dollars at a time, and to him it seemed a small fortune.</p>

<p>He had no idea that his visit to the bank was observed
by any one that knew him, but such was the
case.</p>

<p>Old Jerry, as the reader already knows, was a depositor
at the Bowery Savings Bank, and this very
morning, having a small deposit to make, he was
shambling along the Bowery, when he saw Paul descend
the steps with a bank book in his hand. He
was intensely surprised.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X_PAUL_LOSES_HIS_BANK_BOOK" id="CHAPTER_X_PAUL_LOSES_HIS_BANK_BOOK">CHAPTER X.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL LOSES HIS BANK BOOK.</span></a></h2>


<p>Old Jerry felt outraged at Paul’s withholding
money from him for deposit in the savings bank.</p>

<p>“The&mdash;the thieving young rascal!” he muttered to
himself, indignantly. “He is putting my money
into the bank, and letting me starve at home, while
he lives on the fat of the land, and lays up money.
Me that have taken care of him ever since he was a
little boy, and&mdash;and cared for him like a father.”</p>

<p>Jerry had a curious idea of the way fathers care
for their children, judging from his words. When
Paul was only six years old, he had been sent into
the streets to sell matches and papers, and, being a
bright, winning boy, had earned considerably more,
even at that tender age, than many older boys.</p>

<p>At times Jerry had induced him to beg, but it was
only for a short time. Paul had a natural pride and
independence that made him shrink from asking
alms, as soon as he was old enough to understand
the humiliation of it. So there was never a time
when he had not earned his own living, and more
besides. But Jerry chose to forget this, and to
charge Paul with ingratitude, when he discovered
that he had a private fund of his own.</p>

<p>“I must get hold of that money,” thought Jerry.
“I wonder how much Paul has got.”</p>

<p>There was no way of finding out, unless he got
hold of the book, or inquired at the bank. He decided
to do the latter. Accordingly he went over to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
the bank, and entering it walked up to the receiving
teller.</p>

<p>“Was there a boy named Paul Parton here just
now?” he asked.</p>

<p>“Yes; what of it?”</p>

<p>“Did he put some money into the bank?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“How much was it?”</p>

<p>“We don’t give information about our depositors,”
said the teller. “Is he your grandson?”</p>

<p>“Yes; that is, he lives with me.”</p>

<p>“You are a depositor also, are you not? I seem
to remember your face.”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“What is your name?”</p>

<p>“Jeremiah Barclay.”</p>

<p>“I remember now. Why do you want to know
about this boy?”</p>

<p>“He ought to have given me the money, instead of
putting it into the bank.”</p>

<p>“We have nothing to do with that. He did not
steal it from you, I presume.”</p>

<p>“No,” answered Jerry, reluctantly. It occurred
to him for an instant to claim that Paul had robbed
him, but he was rather afraid that the telegraph boy
would in that case become angry and leave him, and
the sum he had in bank would not pay him for that.</p>

<p>The miser did not suspect that Paul had over five
dollars laid up, having no knowledge of the handsome
gift he had received from Mrs. Cunningham.
But even if it were only five dollars, it was sufficient
to excite Jerry’s cupidity, and he decided that he
must manage to get possession of it.</p>

<p>“Then you won’t tell me how much money Paul
has in the bank?”</p>

<p>“It is against our rules.”</p>

<p>Jerry felt that he was dismissed, and stumbled out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
of the bank, forgetting, in his thoughts about Paul,
the business of his own which had brought him
there.</p>

<p>But there was other business for Jerry to attend
to that morning. We are about to let the reader
into a secret, which he had hitherto kept from Paul.</p>

<p>Not far away was a small tenement house which
Jerry hired and sublet to tenants. Every month he
called to collect his rents, and the difference between
the rent he paid for the whole building, and the rents
he collected from the tenants, gave him a handsome
profit.</p>

<p>It was not rent day, but there were two of the
tenants in arrears. One was a laborer, temporarily
out of work, and the other was a poor widow who
went out scrubbing, but was now taken down with
rheumatism, and therefore not able to work.</p>

<p>The old man ascended with painful toil to the third
floor, and called on the widow first.</p>

<p>She turned pale when she saw him enter, for she
knew his errand, and how little chance there was of
softening him.</p>

<p>“I hope you have got the rent for me this morning,
Mrs. O’Connor,” said Jerry, harshly.</p>

<p>“And where would I get it, Mr. Barclay?” she
asked. “It’s very little work I can do on account of
the sharp pains I have.”</p>

<p>“That’s none of my business,” said Jerry, in a
harsh tone. “You will have to go, then.”</p>

<p>“And would you put me on the street, me and my
poor childer?” said the poor woman, with a troubled
look. “I’m afraid it’s the hard heart you have, Mr.
Barclay.”</p>

<p>“Don’t talk nonsense, Mrs. O’Connor,” said Jerry,
sharply. “I can’t let you stay here for nothing. I&mdash;I’m
very poor myself,” he added, with his customary
whine.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>

<p>“You poor!” repeated the widow, bitterly. “I’ve
heard that you’re rolling in riches, Mr. Barclay.”</p>

<p>“Who&mdash;who says so?” asked Jerry, alarmed.</p>

<p>“Everybody says so.”</p>

<p>“Then you can tell ’em they’re very much mistaken.”</p>

<p>“What do you do with all the rent you get from
this building, then?”</p>

<p>“I pay it away, that is, almost all of it. I don’t
own the building. I&mdash;I hire it, and some months, on
account of losses, I don’t make a cent,” asseverated
Jerry. “I&mdash;I think I’m a little out take the year together.”</p>

<p>“Then why don’t you give it up if you don’t make
any money out of it?”</p>

<p>“That&mdash;that is nothing to the purpose. Once
more, Mrs. O’Connor, will you pay me my rent?”</p>

<p>“How can I when I have no money?”</p>

<p>“Then you must borrow it. I’ll give you till tomorrow,
and not a day longer. Remember that, Mrs.
O’Connor, will you not?”</p>

<p>Next Jerry visited the other tenant with rather
better success, for he collected one dollar on account.</p>

<p>He waited eagerly for Paul to come home. He
had made up his mind to explore Paul’s pockets after
he was asleep and get possession of his bank book.
With that, as he thought, he would go to the bank
and draw the money that stood in Paul’s name. It
would be a theft, but Jerry did not look at it in that
light. He persuaded himself that he had a perfect
right to take the property of the boy who was living
under his guardianship, though, to speak properly,
it was rather Paul that took care of him.</p>

<p>It was rather late in the evening when Paul got
home, for every other evening he was employed. The
old man was awake, but pretended to be asleep.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
Paul took off his coat and vest, and threw himself on
the lounge, covering himself up with a quilt. His
clothes he put on a chair alongside.</p>

<p>It was not long before he was sound asleep, being
much fatigued with the labors of the day.</p>

<p>Old Jerry got up cautiously from the bed. He,
too, was dressed, for he seldom took the trouble to
undress, and cautiously drew near the lounge. He
took up Paul’s coat, and threw his claw-like fingers
into an inside pocket. His eyes sparkled with delight
as he drew out the telegraph boy’s bank book.</p>

<p>“I’ve got it!” he muttered, gleefully. “Paul isn’t
any match for the old man! I&mdash;I wonder how much
money he has saved up!”</p>

<p>Paul slept on, unaware of the cunning old man’s
treachery, and of the danger to which his little treasure
was exposed.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI_AT_THE_SAVINGS_BANK" id="CHAPTER_XI_AT_THE_SAVINGS_BANK">CHAPTER XI.<br /><span class="titlefont">AT THE SAVINGS BANK.</span></a></h2>


<p>Old Jerry laid down Paul’s coat, and opened the
bank book, of which he had just obtained possession.
He was eager to ascertain how much Paul had
saved up.</p>

<p>“Forty dollars!”</p>

<p>He could hardly believe his eyes.</p>

<p>How in the world could Paul have managed to
save up forty dollars?</p>

<p>“Forty dollars!” exclaimed old Jerry, gleefully.
“I’m in luck for once. Of course it belongs to me.
I am Paul’s guardian, and have a right to his earnings.
He shouldn’t have kept it from me. I&mdash;I will
go to the bank and draw it all tomorrow. Then I
will put it in in my own name. That will make it all
right.” And old Jerry rubbed his hands joyfully.</p>

<p>After this theft, for it can be called by no other name,
Jerry did not sleep much. He was too much excited
by the unexpected magnitude of his discovery, and
by his delight at adding so much to his own hoards.
Then, again, he was afraid Paul might wake up, and,
discovering his loss, demand from him the restitution
of the book.</p>

<p>Generally Paul rose at six o’clock, as this enabled
him to get his breakfast and get round to the telegraph
company at seven. He generally waked about
fifteen minutes before the hour, such was the force
of habit.</p>

<p>This morning he woke at the usual time, but old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
Jerry had got up softly and left the room twenty
minutes before.</p>

<p>Turning over, Paul glanced toward the bed in the
corner, and was surprised to see no signs of the old
man.</p>

<p>“Jerry gone out already!” he said to himself, in
amazement “I wonder what’s come over him. I
hope he isn’t sick.”</p>

<p>Paul didn’t however borrow any trouble, for he
concluded that Jerry had got tired of his bed, and
gone out for a morning walk.</p>

<p>He lay till seven, and then, throwing off the quilt,
rose from the lounge. He was already partly dressed,
and only needed to put on his coat. Then, with a
cheerful smile, he felt for his bank book, which he
had placed in the inside pocket of his coat.</p>

<p><em>It was not there!</em></p>

<p>He started, and turned pale.</p>

<p>“Where is my bank book?” he asked himself in
alarm.</p>

<p>Then it flashed upon him.</p>

<p>“Old Jerry has taken it!” he said, sternly, “and
has slunk off with it before I am up. That’s why he
got up so early. But I’ll put a spoke in his wheel.
I’ll go to the bank and give notice that my book has
been stolen. He shan’t draw the money on it, if I
can prevent it.”</p>

<p>But Paul was unable to carry out his intention of
calling at the bank at the hour of opening, in order
to give notice of his loss. On reporting for duty at
the telegraph office, he was sent over to Jersey City,
where he was detained until eleven o’clock. He felt
uneasy, and thought of asking to have some other
boy assigned to the duty, but it so happened that
the superintendent was not in an amiable frame of
mind, and he knew that his request would not be
granted.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>

<p>Meanwhile, about five minutes after the bank was
opened, old Jerry shambled in, and, sitting down at
a table, wrote out an order for forty dollars in favor
of Book No. 251,610 signing it “Paul Parton.”</p>

<p>This he took to the desk of the cashier.</p>

<p>“Please give me the money on this,” he said.</p>

<p>The cashier eyed him sharply.</p>

<p>“Are you Paul Parton?” he demanded.</p>

<p>“N-no,” faltered the old man; “I am Paul’s
guardian.”</p>

<p>“Did you put in this money for him?”</p>

<p>“N-no.”</p>

<p>“Did he write this order?”</p>

<p>Old Jerry would have had no scruples about asserting
that it was written by Paul, but he knew that
the statement would at once be recognized as false,
as he had himself written it in the presence of the
cashier.</p>

<p>“N-no,” he admitted, reluctantly; “but it makes
no difference; Paul is busy, and can’t come. He’s
a telegraph boy. H-he wanted me to draw it for
him.”</p>

<p>It will be seen that old Jerry’s conscience was
elastic, and that he had no scruple about lying.</p>

<p>“That won’t answer,” replied the cashier, eying
the old man suspiciously. “It is not according to
our rules.”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I want to use the money&mdash;that is, Paul does,”
remonstrated old Jerry, disappointed.</p>

<p>“That makes no difference.”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I’ll get Paul to write an order,” said Jerry, as
he left the bank.</p>

<p>“That old man stole the boy’s book,” thought the
cashier. “Now he is going home to forge an order
in the boy’s name.”</p>

<p>That is exactly what old Jerry meant to do. He
thought it best however, to wait till afternoon.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>

<p>Meanwhile, at twelve o’clock, Paul, then for the
first time able to get away, hurried into the bank,
breathless.</p>

<p>“I want to give notice that my bank book has been
taken,” he said, panting.</p>

<p>“Your name, please?”</p>

<p>“Paul Parton.”</p>

<p>“Number of book?”</p>

<p>“No. 251,610.”</p>

<p>“Your book was presented two hours since by an
old man, who handed in an order for all the money.”</p>

<p>The perspiration gathered on Paul’s brow.</p>

<p>“Did you give it to him?”</p>

<p>“No; it is not according to our rules to pay, except
to the written order of the depositor.”</p>

<p>“I am glad of that,” said Paul. “Don’t pay it if
he comes again.”</p>

<p>“We will not,” replied the cashier; and Paul left
the building feeling greatly relieved.</p>

<p>Old Jerry ought to have known that there was very
little chance of a forged order being honored, for the
bank possessed Paul’s autograph signature on its
books, making the fact of the forgery evident at
once, but it sometimes happens that men sharp in
some matters are very obtuse in others. This was
the case with old Jerry in the present instance.</p>

<p>About two o’clock he entered the bank once more.
Paul had not come home at the noon hour&mdash;he seldom
did, being in the habit of dining at a restaurant,
and the old man thought him still ignorant of the
theft. He was anxious to draw the money before the
telegraph boy learned that his book had been appropriated.</p>

<p>He had prepared an order, having taken one with
him in blank, and made it out for forty dollars, signing
it “Paul Parton.”</p>

<p>Armed with this, he walked up to the cashier’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
window, and without a word presented it in the
book.</p>

<p>The cashier recognized him instantly.</p>

<p>“Well,” he said, “what do you want?”</p>

<p>“The money,” answered the old man, his features
working with cupidity.</p>

<p>“You were here this morning?”</p>

<p>“Y&mdash;yes.”</p>

<p>“I told you you could not draw out the money on
your own order.”</p>

<p>“This is Paul’s order,” returned Jerry, with unblushing
falsehood.</p>

<p>“Did he write it?”</p>

<p>“Y&mdash;yes.”</p>

<p>“I thought you said he was occupied by business.”</p>

<p>“He&mdash;he came home at noon, and wrote the
order.”</p>

<p>“That is false!” said the cashier, sternly. “The
boy has been here to report that his book has been
stolen, and forbade us to pay out any money on it.”</p>

<p>The old man’s face was the picture of dismay.</p>

<p>“The&mdash;there’s some mistake,” he managed to mutter.
“It must be some other boy. Paul asked me to
draw the money. Besides, it isn’t his money at all.
It&mdash;it rightfully belongs to me.”</p>

<p>“You can draw no money on the order which you
have forged,” said the cashier, sternly.</p>

<p>“Then give me back the book,” said Jerry, beginning
to get frightened.</p>

<p>“I shall retain the book for the rightful owner,”
said the official. “And now let me advise you never
to come here again on any such errand, or I shall feel
it my duty to hand you over to the police.”</p>

<p>Without another word old Jerry shambled out of
the bank, with a scared look on his face. This reference
to the police startled him. It had not occurred
to him that he was doing anything of which the law<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
could take cognizance. His exultation of the morning
had quite passed away. He had flattered himself
that his hoard would increase by forty dollars.
Now he had found himself foiled in the attempt to
convert Paul’s savings to his own use.</p>

<p>About six o’clock Paul returned to the humble
home. Old Jerry was resting on the bed in the corner.
He looked up nervously as the telegraph boy
entered, and saw at once by the expression on Paul’s
face that he knew all.</p>

<p>“Jerry,” said Paul, “why did you take my bank
book?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I’m so poor, Paul,” whined Jerry, “I&mdash;I needed
the money.”</p>

<p>“So you turned thief,” returned the boy, indignantly.</p>

<p>“The money was mine by right&mdash;you shouldn’t
have kept it from me.”</p>

<p>“I deny it!” said Paul, with emphasis. “Have you
got the book with you?”</p>

<p>“N&mdash;no; they wouldn’t give it back to me,” complained
Jerry.</p>

<p>“And they did right. If you ever play such a
trick on me again, robbing me in my sleep, I’ll leave
you. Suppose I should get hold of your bank
book&mdash;”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I haven’t any money in the bank. I’m so
poor!” ejaculated the miser, panic stricken.</p>

<p>“I have reason to believe you have the bank book
in your pocket at this moment.”</p>

<p>“You&mdash;you wouldn’t rob me, Paul?” implored
Jerry.</p>

<p>“How can I if you have no bank book? But you
can rest easy. I am not in the habit of stealing.”</p>

<p>He went out to supper, leaving Jerry utterly discomposed.
Not only had his plan failed, but his
secret had been discovered.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII_JAMES_BARCLAYS_DISAPPOINTMENT" id="CHAPTER_XII_JAMES_BARCLAYS_DISAPPOINTMENT">CHAPTER XII.<br /><span class="titlefont">JAMES BARCLAY’S DISAPPOINTMENT.</span></a></h2>


<p>Though he is a very unworthy specimen of humanity,
the reader may feel interested to know something
more about James Barclay, whose acquaintance
we made while he was attempting to commit a burglary.</p>

<p>It was mere accident that made him acquainted
with the fact that his father was living in New York.
To him it seemed a most fortunate discovery. Knowing
old Jerry’s miserly habits, he had no doubt that
the old man was worth some thousands of dollars,
and upon this sum he felt that he had a right to
draw. His father was timid, and he depended upon
terrifying him into complying with his demands.</p>

<p>The first visit terminated as well as he expected.
He didn’t suppose that Jerry kept much money in his
room. Hence his arrangement to come back the next
day.</p>

<p>As he left the poor tenement house he chuckled to
himself, “I’ll scare the old man into giving me all
the money I want. It will be like drawing a tooth,
and I’ve no doubt he’ll make a great fuss, but there’s
no escape for him. He can live on little or nothing
and enjoy it. It won’t do him any real harm to let
me have, say half of his miserly hoard. Egad, James
Barclay, you’re in luck at last. I thought when that
telegraph kid foiled me last night that nothing
would go well with me, but things seem turning. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
I ever meet that boy again I must give him a lesson.
He’s a bold young rascal, though, and would be a
credit to my line of business.”</p>

<p>It is doubted whether Paul would have considered
this a compliment if he had heard it. His ambitions
did not run in the direction of becoming a successful
burglar.</p>

<p>It was a question with James Barclay where to
spend the intervening time, as he was not to call on
his father till the next day. He was about at the end
of his resources, having less than a dollar in silver
in his possession. He might have tried to hatch
up some dishonest scheme for filling his pockets but
for the chance discovery of his father. That afforded
a chance quite as promising, and far less perilous,
and he decided not to make any illegal ventures till
he had made all he could out of old Jerry.</p>

<p>“I’d rather be honest,” he said to himself in a
glow of virtuous feeling; “but, confound it, a man
must live, and as the world owes me a living, I must
get it one way or another.”</p>

<p>It did not seem to occur to James Barclay that the
same chance existed for him as for the majority of
his fellow men&mdash;a chance of earning a living by
honest work. Labor and industry he abhorred.
They might do for others, but not for him.</p>

<p>“Tomorrow I’ll be in funds,” he said to himself
complacently. “Now, what shall I do with myself
today? A man can’t do much without money.”</p>

<p>It occurred to him that an old acquaintance&mdash;rather
a shady acquaintance by the way&mdash;used to
live in Jersey City. He would go over and see him.
It would while away the time in a pleasant manner,
and he might get news of his other companions, for
he had been out of the city himself for several
years. In fact, for we need not keep the secret from
the reader, he had been passing three years in seclusion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
at the village of Sing Sing on the Hudson.
That accounted for his father having been spared any
visits for that length of time.</p>

<p>James Barclay turned down Cortlandt Street, and
made his way to the ferry at the foot of the street.
He invested three cents in a ferry ticket, and in a few
minutes set foot in Jersey City.</p>

<p>“It’s a long time since I have been here,” he reflected.
“Ten to one Jack isn’t hanging out at the
old place. However, I can see.”</p>

<p>He made his way to the former abode of his old
friend, Jack Cratts, who was much such a character
as himself, but, being more prudent, less apt to get
into trouble.</p>

<p>He only met with disappointment. Another family
occupied the room once tenanted by Jack, and he
could obtain no information as to the whereabouts of
his friend.</p>

<p>James Barclay was disappointed. The time was
hanging heavily on his hands. He made his way
slowly toward the ferry, when he encountered a
poorly dressed woman of about thirty, carrying a
heavy basket of clothes. She was evidently a laundress.</p>

<p>His face lighted up with instant recognition.</p>

<p>“Is it you, Ellen?” he said.</p>

<p>The woman turned pale, and nearly dropped the
basket she was carrying.</p>

<p>“James!” she ejaculated, faintly.</p>

<p>“Yes, Ellen, it is your poor, unfortunate husband.
Egad, I’m glad to see you.”</p>

<p>It was now over three years since James Barclay
and his wife had met. She had never been very
happy with him, after the first few months of married
life, and she did not know now whether to be
glad or sorry she had met him. She had not lost all
love for him&mdash;wives seldom do under any provocation&mdash;but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
she knew him too well to believe that he
had changed materially. He was likely still to prove
a disturbing element in her life. Yet she felt a momentary
pleasure, lonely as she was, in meeting
the man who, ten years before, had captured her
affections.</p>

<p>“Are you glad to see me, Ellen?” asked Barclay,
in an unusually pleasant tone.</p>

<p>“Yes,” she answered, slowly.</p>

<p>“How are the children? I don’t suppose I should
know them.”</p>

<p>“They are well. Jimmy and Mary are going to
school. Jimmy sells papers evenings to help me
along.”</p>

<p>“How old is the young rascal?”</p>

<p>“Eight years old.”</p>

<p>“Is he a chip of the old block, eh, Ellen?”</p>

<p>“I hope not,” said the woman, heartily. Then,
with a half frightened look, she added, “Don’t be
offended with me, James, but I don’t want him to follow
in your steps.”</p>

<p>“No offense, Ellen,” said Barclay, laughingly. “I
don’t pretend to be an angel, and I hope the kid will
be more of one than I. And how are you yourself,
old woman?”</p>

<p>“I’ve had to work very hard, James,” sighed the
woman. “It’s been all I can do to earn a poor living
for the children.”</p>

<p>“I wish I could help you, and perhaps I may. I’m
expecting some money tomorrow, and I’m hanged if
I don’t give you ten dollars of it.”</p>

<p>“It would be a great help to me, James,” said his
wife, with a momentary look of pleasure.</p>

<p>“Are you going home now?”</p>

<p>“Yes, James.”</p>

<p>“I’ll go along, too, and see what sort of a crib
you’ve got. Can you let me have some dinner?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes, James, though it’ll be a poor one.”</p>

<p>“O, I shan’t mind. Here, give me that basket.
I’m stronger than you.”</p>

<p>“Has he really reformed and become better?”
thought Ellen, puzzled. She had never been used
to such marks of attention from her husband. But
he was in an amiable frame of mind. He had found
a place of refuge till the next day, and then he would
draw fifty dollars from his father&mdash;the first of many
forced loans he promised himself.</p>

<p>He lounged away the rest of the day at his wife’s
poor room. When the children came home from
school he received them with boisterous good nature.
They seemed afraid of him, remembering his
severity in earlier days, but this only seemed to amuse
him.</p>

<p>“That’s a pretty way to receive your loving
father,” he said, laughingly. “Come here and sit on
my knee, Mary.”</p>

<p>The little girl obeyed with scared face, because
she did not dare to refuse lest she should anger her
father. So the day passed. James Barclay lay in
bed late next morning, but about eleven o’clock
started for New York, to meet the appointment with
his father.</p>

<p>A little before noon he ascended the staircase, and
opened the door of the room which he had visited
the day before.</p>

<p>It was empty!</p>

<p>His face darkened, and an unpleasant misgiving
entered his mind.</p>

<p>He knocked at the door of the opposite room,
which was opened by a woman.</p>

<p>“What has become of the old man who occupied
the room opposite?” he asked.</p>

<p>“He has moved,” answered Mrs. Duane.</p>

<p>“Moved! When did he move?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>

<p>“This morning, I believe.”</p>

<p>“Where has he gone to?”</p>

<p>“He didn’t leave word.”</p>

<p>“The old fox!” muttered James Barclay. “He has
gone to get rid of me. But I’ll follow him up, and
sooner or later I’ll find him.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII_JAMES_BARCLAY_AT_HOME" id="CHAPTER_XIII_JAMES_BARCLAY_AT_HOME">CHAPTER XIII.<br /><span class="titlefont">JAMES BARCLAY AT HOME.</span></a></h2>


<p>James Barclay’s disappointment was intense when
he discovered that his father had eluded him. He
was almost penniless, and had nothing of sufficient
value to pawn. Had he raised the sum which he
had expected from old Jerry, it is doubtful whether
he would have returned to his family in Jersey City.
As it was, he had no other resource.</p>

<p>His wife, who took in washing to do at home, was
hard at work ironing when the door opened and her
husband entered. A frown was on his face, and he
was evidently in ill temper.</p>

<p>A cat, the family pet, being in his way, he kicked
her brutally, and the poor animal, moaning piteously,
fled in wild dismay.</p>

<p>“Get out of the way, you beast!” he said, angrily.</p>

<p>“Don’t kick poor Topsy!” pleaded his wife. “I
am afraid you have hurt the poor little thing.”</p>

<p>“Keep her out of my way, then,” growled Barclay.
“I hate cats. You must be a fool to keep one.”</p>

<p>“The children love poor Topsy, James,” said his
wife.</p>

<p>“I suppose you’d keep a snake for them, if they
liked it.”</p>

<p>“A kitten is very different from a snake.”</p>

<p>“I shall kill it some time if it gets in my way.
Have you got anything to eat in the house?”</p>

<p>Mrs. Barclay paused in her work long enough to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
get some bread and meat from the pantry, which
she set before her husband.</p>

<p>“Where are the children?” he asked, after a while.</p>

<p>“They have gone to school.”</p>

<p>“They ought to be earning something at their
age,” growled Barclay.</p>

<p>“They are very young yet, James. You wouldn’t
have me take them from school?”</p>

<p>“School won’t do ’em much good.”</p>

<p>“You wouldn’t have them grow up ignorant,
surely?”</p>

<p>“They have got to earn something. I can’t support
them in idleness.”</p>

<p>As it was some years since he had contributed a
cent to their support, his wife didn’t quite appreciate
his complaint, but she knew too much of her
husband’s temper to argue with him.</p>

<p>“Jimmy sells papers when he gets home from
school,” she said.</p>

<p>“How much does he earn that way?”</p>

<p>“Sometimes from fifteen to twenty cents.”</p>

<p>“He’ll need to earn more, I can tell you that. I’m
very poor, Ellen, and cursed unfortunate, too. I
haven’t money enough to buy a ten cent cigar.”</p>

<p>“I will try to support the children if you will take
care of yourself, James.”</p>

<p>Any man with a spark of true manhood in him
would have been shamed by such a proposition, but
James Barclay was a thoroughly selfish man. It
seemed to him that his wife ought to support him,
too.</p>

<p>“Have you got a dollar about you, Ellen?” he
asked.</p>

<p>“Ye-es,” she answered, hesitatingly, “but I must
buy some bread and groceries this evening, or the
children won’t have their supper.”</p>

<p>“Seems to me you care more about the children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
than you do about your husband. A pretty wife you
are!”</p>

<p>“I don’t deserve that, James. Of course you are
welcome to your share of the supper.”</p>

<p>“Thank you! So you want to treat me as a child.”</p>

<p>The man was utterly unreasonable, and his wife
can hardly be blamed if there rose in her mind a regret
that he had not stayed away longer, and left
her and the children in peace.</p>

<p>“I thought you expected to have some money
today, James,” she said.</p>

<p>“Yes, but I didn’t get it. Just my cursed luck!”
he answered, bitterly. “My own father turns his
back on me, and won’t give me a cent, though he
has money in plenty.”</p>

<p>“Your father?” said his wife in surprise. “Is he&mdash;have
you seen him?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I saw him yesterday, and told him I would
call today for fifty dollars. I went, and found the
old scoundrel had disappeared.”</p>

<p>“Is it right to call your father by such a name?
He may not have had the money.”</p>

<p>“You don’t know my father. He’s a miser, and
always has been. He lives in a wretched hole, not
so good as this place, while he has thousands of
dollars invested, or hidden somewhere. He thinks
he’s got rid of me, but” (here an oath escaped his lips)
“he will find he’s mistaken.”</p>

<p>All this was new to Mrs. Barclay, who had heard
very little of her husband’s family.</p>

<p>“Perhaps if you find him you could induce him to
come and live with us,” she said. “He might take
an interest in the children and do something for
them.”</p>

<p>“More likely he would want to live off us. However,
if I could once get him here, I’d manage to get
my hand into his purse. It’s a good idea.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>

<p>“Does he live alone? He must be an old man.”</p>

<p>“He’s all bent and shriveled up; he’s got a telegraph
boy living with him, he told me. I hate
telegraph boys&mdash;I met one the other night&mdash;an impudent
young rascal! I’d like to meet him again.
I’d wring the kid’s neck for him.”</p>

<p>“Where did you meet him, James?”</p>

<p>James Barclay eyed his wife suspiciously. He did
not care to tell her under what circumstances he
met Paul Parton.</p>

<p>“Never you mind, old woman!” he said. “It’s no
concern of yours.”</p>

<p>“If you don’t want to tell me, I don’t care to
know, James,” she answered, meekly.</p>

<p>“Well, I don’t want to tell you. But about the
old man’s coming here, it’s a good idea of yours.
I will send off the telegraph boy, for he might be
dangerous. Ten to one he’s trying to get the old
man to leave him his property. I wish I knew where
he is.”</p>

<p>“Haven’t you got any clew?”</p>

<p>“No, he’s hid somewhere. He won’t come out of
his hole for fear of meeting me.”</p>

<p>“If you could meet this telegraph boy, you might
learn through him where your father is.”</p>

<p>“Unfortunately, Mrs. B., I don’t know the telegraph
boy&mdash;never met him&mdash;shouldn’t know him
from Adam.”</p>

<p>“I suppose he has a number.”</p>

<p>“That’s so, old woman!” exclaimed Barclay, slapping
his knee with emphasis. “I think I know where
I can find out his number, and then it’ll be easy to
find him. He can’t hide from me, for he has to be
on duty every day. But I shall want money&mdash;just
give me that dollar!”</p>

<p>“I can’t, James; the poor children would have to
go without their supper.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>

<p>“Look here, Mrs. B., I want you to understand
that you’ve got to obey your husband. I’ll give you
back the money as soon as I can, but I need it to
track my father. Let me once get hold of him, and
it’ll be all right. I will soon have plenty of money.”</p>

<p>“But I can’t spare the money, James. The children
must have their supper.”</p>

<p>“I’m tired of your talk,” he rejoined, roughly. “If
you refuse me the money, I’ll raise it in some other
way.”</p>

<p>He glared round the room, and his eyes rested on
a dress that his wife had just ironed.</p>

<p>“I can raise something on that,” he said, seizing
the dress, and preparing to carry it away.</p>

<p>“Stop, James, for pity’s sake!” cried his wife, terrified.
“That dress belongs to one of my customers.
It would be stealing to take it!”</p>

<p>“She’s probably got plenty of others; she can
spare it,” he said.</p>

<p>His wife hastened to him and tried to wrench the
dress from his grasp, but holding it in one hand
beyond her reach, he gripped her arm with the other
so hard that she uttered a cry of pain.</p>

<p>At this moment the door was pushed open, and a
new character appeared upon the scene in the person
of a stalwart policeman.</p>

<p>“What’s all this?” he demanded, in a tone of
authority. “Release that woman, or I’ll take you
in.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV_ON_THE_TRACK_OF_NUMBER_91" id="CHAPTER_XIV_ON_THE_TRACK_OF_NUMBER_91">CHAPTER XIV.<br /><span class="titlefont">ON THE TRACK OF NUMBER 91.</span></a></h2>


<p>The policeman’s sudden appearance can be easily
explained. He and his family occupied rooms in the
same house with Mrs. Barclay, and he happened to
be passing the door of her apartment when he heard
the cry.</p>

<p>“What’s all this?” he demanded once more.</p>

<p>“None of your business!” returned Barclay, indignantly.
“What call have you to intrude where
you’re not wanted?”</p>

<p>“I often do that,” said the policeman, grimly.
“Mrs. Barclay, who is this man?”</p>

<p>“My husband, sir.”</p>

<p>“There, do you hear that?” demanded Barclay.
“I have a right to be here.”</p>

<p>“What were you about to do to your wife? What
made her cry out?” asked the policeman, sharply.
“I ask you that question, Mrs. Barclay.”</p>

<p>“My husband was carrying off that dress to pawn
it,” replied the wife. “It does not belong to me, and
it would have got me into trouble.”</p>

<p>“What have you to say to that?” asked the officer,
turning to Barclay.</p>

<p>“My wife would give me no money,” answered
Barclay, sullenly, “and I threatened to pawn her
dress.”</p>

<p>“She says it was not her dress.”</p>

<p>“I thought it was,” said Barclay.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>

<p>“O, James,” began his wife, but a threatening look
from her husband stopped her words.</p>

<p>“And then you treated her roughly, it seems!”</p>

<p>“No, I didn’t. I just took her by the arm, to stop
her getting the dress.”</p>

<p>“Have you any complaint to make, Mrs. Barclay?”
asked the officer.</p>

<p>“Not if he will give me the dress back. It doesn’t
belong to me, and I don’t want to lose it.”</p>

<p>“Take the dress,” said Barclay, throwing it down.</p>

<p>“Mind you make no more trouble,” said the policeman
in a warning voice, as he left the room.</p>

<p>“Where did the cop come from?” asked Barclay.</p>

<p>“He lives in the house.”</p>

<p>“Then I wish he’d move out of it. Cops are no
company for decent people.”</p>

<p>It is small wonder that James Barclay did not enjoy
the company of a class of men who, first and
last, had given him considerable trouble.</p>

<p>His wife did not reply, but picked up the rumpled
dress and began to smooth it.</p>

<p>“Now, Ellen,” said Barclay, changing his tone out
of policy, “I’ll make a bargain with you. I want to
go over to New York, and hunt up that telegraph
boy. Through him I can track my father and get
some money. See, this is all I have in the world,”
and he drew out four pennies from his pocket.</p>

<p>“But the children, James.”</p>

<p>“The children can get along on half of it. Give
me fifty cents, and I will give you ten dollars as soon
as I make a raise. That’s pretty good interest, hey,
old woman?”</p>

<p>Mrs. Barclay drew from her pocket two silver
quarters and handed them to her husband.</p>

<p>“There, take them, James,” she said, “and don’t
forget your promise. I made that money by hard
work.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>

<p>“It will be all right, Ellen,” said Barclay, thrusting
the money carelessly into his vest pocket. “You
can’t raise a crop without seed, you know.”</p>

<p>He put on his hat and left the house whistling.</p>

<p>Arrived in New York, James Barclay lost no time
in returning to his father’s old lodgings. Mrs. O’Connor,
one of the tenants, chanced to be just coming
out of the house with a bundle of clean clothes,
which she was about to carry to a customer.</p>

<p>“Excuse me, ma’am,” said Barclay, politely, for he
could be polite when he saw fit, “I believe you knew
an old man who moved away from here recently?”</p>

<p>“Old Jerry? Yes, I knew him well. He lived
here ever since I did, and what took him away so
sudden I can’t tell.”</p>

<p>“I am sorry not to find him, for I know of something
to his advantage.”</p>

<p>“He didn’t leave word where he was going, more’s
the pity. I wish he had, for I’d like to have called
to see him and the bye some time.”</p>

<p>“There was a boy, then, who lived with him? I
believe I have heard him mentioned before.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, and a nice bye he was, and a smart one.
He was rale kind to the old man, Paul was, and I
don’t think old Jerry could have got along without
him.”</p>

<p>“He was employed in a store, wasn’t he?” asked
Barclay, assuming less knowledge than he possessed.</p>

<p>“No, indade. Paul is a telegraph bye, and has
been for ’most two years. He’s a favorite with the
company, I’m thinkin’, as he ought to be, for he
always attinds to his duties, and is up early and
late.”</p>

<p>“So he’s a telegraph boy!” said Barclay, musingly.
“I should like to see him, especially as you speak so
well of him. He has a number, hasn’t he? I notice
the boys have a number on their caps.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes, sir. Paul is Number 91.”</p>

<p>“Number 91?” returned Barclay, briskly. “I think
I can remember that. I’m much obliged to you, my
good lady.”</p>

<p>“Shure, and you’re a very polite gintleman,” said
Mrs. O’Connor, who was flattered at being called a
lady.</p>

<p>“Why shouldn’t I be polite to a lady like you?”
said Barclay. “Perhaps you can give me a little
more information.”</p>

<p>“Shure, and I will if I can, sir.”</p>

<p>“At what office can I find this Paul&mdash;Number 91,
as you call him? I should like to speak to him about
my aged relative.”</p>

<p>“I can’t just recollect the number, sir, but the office
where Paul goes is on Broadway, same side as the
St. Nicholas Hotel, and not far away from it.”</p>

<p>“Thank you very much. You are really the most
obliging lady I have met for a long time.”</p>

<p>“Shure, sir, you flatter me. You must have kissed
the blarney stone, I’m a thinkin’!”</p>

<p>“No, ma’am, I haven’t; but I hope I know enough
to be polite to a lady. You don’t seem like a stranger
to me, for you are the image of a lady I used to know
on the other side of the water, the Countess of Galway.”</p>

<p>Mrs. O’Connor smiled and simpered, for she had
never before been compared to a countess.</p>

<p>“And can I do any more for you, sir?” she said.</p>

<p>“No, thank you. You have given me all the information
I require. Good day!”</p>

<p>As Barclay walked away, Mrs. O’Connor followed
him with her eyes.</p>

<p>“He isn’t dressed very nice,” she said to herself,
“but in his manners he’s a perfect gintleman. I’d
like to see that Countess of Galway, that I look so
much like.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV_BARCLAY_GETS_INTO_BUSINESS" id="CHAPTER_XV_BARCLAY_GETS_INTO_BUSINESS">CHAPTER XV.<br /><span class="titlefont">BARCLAY GETS INTO BUSINESS.</span></a></h2>


<p>“You’re getting on finely, old fellow,” said James
Barclay to himself, as he left the tenement house, and
steered toward Broadway. “I managed that old
woman skillfully, and got all the information I want.
I think, Jerry Barclay, you won’t long elude me. I
shall have no trouble now in finding the telegraph
boy, and then I shall soon be face to face with the
old man.”</p>

<p>Arrived at Printing House Square, he struck across
the City Hall Park, the other side of which is skirted
by Broadway.</p>

<p>Sitting on one of the benches was a man rather
showily dressed, with a red blotched face, and an
indefinable expression that stamped him as one who
lived by his wits, rather than by honest toil. As
Barclay’s glance rested upon him, he uttered an exclamation
of surprise.</p>

<p>“Bill Slocum, is that you?” he said.</p>

<p>“Jim Barclay, as I’m a sinner,” said the other,
rising and extending a rough hand, on one of whose
fingers sparkled a ring, set with what might have
been a diamond, but was probably paste. “And how
is the world using you, old pal?”</p>

<p>“Rough,” answered Barclay. “The old man’s gone
back on me, and my own wife made a great fuss because
I wanted to borrow a dollar. Sometimes I
think I was better off in our old boarding place up
the river.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>

<p>Bill Slocum was one of his fellow boarders up at
Sing Sing.</p>

<p>“The world owes you a living, Barclay,” said his
friend.</p>

<p>“So it does, but how’s a chap going to collect his
claim? That’s what I’d like to know.”</p>

<p>“O, well, there’s ways if you only know how,” said
Slocum, rather enigmatically.</p>

<p>“How are you makin’ it yourself?” asked Barclay,
curiously.</p>

<p>“I get enough to eat and drink and wear. I ain’t
in no anxiety about livin’.”</p>

<p>“How do you do it?”</p>

<p>“Just look at that!”</p>

<p>Bill Slocum drew from his pocket a roll of bills,
and held it up for his companion to see. It was a thick
roll, and amounted to a fair sum, even if the denominations
were small.</p>

<p>“How’d you get all that?” asked Barclay.</p>

<p>“There’s more where they come from,” answered
Slocum.</p>

<p>“Are there any for me?” asked Barclay, eagerly.</p>

<p>“Yes, if I introduce you.”</p>

<p>“You’ll do it, Slocum, won’t you?”</p>

<p>“Yes, if you want me to. But, first, a word in
your ear.”</p>

<p>He rose from his seat, and withdrew to a place
where he would not be heard.</p>

<p>“They’re flimsies,” he said, briefly.</p>

<p>“Oh!” ejaculated Barclay, looking a trifle disappointed.</p>

<p>He understood that they were not genuine bills,
but counterfeit.</p>

<p>“Well, and what if they are?” said Slocum, reading
his expression.</p>

<p>“There’s a risk about it.”</p>

<p>“Nothin’ venture, nothin’ have, as my old grandmother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
used to say. Just be foxy, and you won’t get
caught. I’m making a good living off of it, myself.”</p>

<p>“What commission do you get for passing them?”</p>

<p>“Fifty cents on a dollar. That’s liberal, isn’t it?”</p>

<p>“Yes, that is liberal,” Barclay admitted. “Have
you made anything today?”</p>

<p>“Have I? Well, I reckon I have.”</p>

<p>“How much?”</p>

<p>“I’ve passed a ten and a five.”</p>

<p>“And that gives you seven and a half for your
share?”</p>

<p>“Right you are, Barclay. Your knowledge of
arithmetic does credit to your education. It’s plain
your respected parent took great pains with your
trainin’.”</p>

<p>“My respected parent,” repeated Barclay, frowning,
“is about the meanest old skinflint you’ll find
within a hundred miles. I found him out yesterday,
and let him know that I was going to call again
today, to raise a loan, but when I called the old fox
was gone bag and baggage.”</p>

<p>“A shabby way to treat his offspring. I pity you,
Jim. So you are left to the tender mercies of the
world.”</p>

<p>“I don’t find ’em very tender,” growled Barclay.
“Do you see that?” and he drew from his pocket
about forty cents in change.</p>

<p>“Yes, but it doesn’t dazzle me.”</p>

<p>“It’s all the money I have in the world.”</p>

<p>“Then you’d better join me.”</p>

<p>Barclay hesitated.</p>

<p>“I don’t quite like it. I don’t care about going up
the river again too soon.”</p>

<p>“You needn’t, if you are careful. I’ll give you a
few points. If one of your bills is found out, you
are at once searched to see if you have any more.”</p>

<p>“There’s the danger.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>

<p>“So there is, but you can guard against it. When
I am preparing to offer a bill, I put a number of
good bills in my vest pocket, where they will be certain
to be found at once. The other counterfeits I
put in a secret inside pocket where they are not
likely to be discovered. Then when it is found that
all the other bills are good, I say that some rascal
must have passed the bad bill on me, taking advantage
of my innocence and ignorance of the world.”</p>

<p>This seemed to Barclay an excellent joke, and he
laughed long and loud.</p>

<p>“Excuse me, Bill, but you don’t look it.”</p>

<p>“I can when it’s necessary.”</p>

<p>After a little more conversation Barclay, who was
already half convinced, yielded to the temptation,
and agreed to accompany his friend to the secret
office of the counterfeiters, and enroll himself as one
of their agents. Slocum offered to conduct him
within at once.</p>

<p>The interview proved a satisfactory one, and Barclay
was readily accepted, being vouched for by his
friend and companion. It may be said also that his
appearance was in his favor, though it would hardly
have recommended him for any honest business.</p>

<p>When Barclay came out of the office, and again
found himself on Broadway, his spirits were perceptibly
raised. He was no longer impecunious, but
carried with him fifty dollars in counterfeit bills.</p>

<p>“Well, good by, Jim,” said Slocum. “It is best for
us to part, and not work near each other. Then
again, it is best not to recognize each other when we
meet, so that if one gets into a scrape the other need
not be molested.”</p>

<p>“All right, Slocum. Success to you!”</p>

<p>James Barclay walked up Broadway, when all at
once he uttered a half exclamation indicative of
astonishment.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>

<p>He was nearly face to face with a telegraph boy,
in whom he recognized the resolute lad who had
foiled him in his attempt at burglary. But this was
not all. On the boy’s cap he recognized, with amazement,
the distinctive inscription:</p>

<p class="center">A. D. T.<br />
91.
</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI_AN_UNEXPECTED_MEETING" id="CHAPTER_XVI_AN_UNEXPECTED_MEETING">CHAPTER XVI.<br /><span class="titlefont">AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.</span></a></h2>


<p>“Number 91!” ejaculated James Barclay in surprise.</p>

<p>The surprise was reflected on Paul’s face when on
looking up he recognized James Barclay.</p>

<p>“I think we have met before,” said the burglar,
grimly.</p>

<p>“Yes,” answered Paul, smiling.</p>

<p>“You are the boy that lives with my father?”</p>

<p>“Yes, if you are the son of Jerry Barclay,” Paul
admitted, seeing that denial was useless.</p>

<p>“It’s queer how things come about,” said Barclay,
reflectively.</p>

<p>“I think you will have to excuse me,” said Paul,
“for I am sent on an errand, and it won’t do for me
to stop.”</p>

<p>“Where are you bound?”</p>

<p>“To the Astor House.”</p>

<p>“Are you going to walk?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“Then I will go with you, if you don’t mind.”</p>

<p>Paul was by no means desirous of Barclay’s company,
but there seemed no way to shake him off.
The street was free to all.</p>

<p>“You can come with me if you like,” he said.</p>

<p>“Then I’ll go. I’ve got something to say to you.
But first I’ll say that I don’t bear any ill will against
you for what you did the other night. You only did
your duty.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>

<p>“That’s true. I’m glad you look upon it in that
light.”</p>

<p>“I admire your pluck, blest if I don’t. All the
same I was disappointed.”</p>

<p>“Don’t you think it would be better to go into
some other line of business, Mr. Barclay?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I do, but that was all that was open to me
at that time. Now, I’ve got into something different.”</p>

<p>Paul looked curious, but didn’t ask what that business
was. He concluded that Barclay would tell
him if he felt disposed.</p>

<p>“I’m a confidential agent,” continued Barclay,
“and it’s likely to pay me well. Where has my father
moved to?”</p>

<p>Paul hesitated.</p>

<p>“I see you don’t want to tell me. My father moved
to get out of my way, I expect.”</p>

<p>“Yes, he did.”</p>

<p>“I don’t know as I blame him much, being the
kind of man he is. I’m his son, but money is his
god. I asked for money, and he didn’t want to give
it to me.”</p>

<p>“That’s what he said.”</p>

<p>“Well, I was in need of money then. Now I’m
not. Do you see that?”</p>

<p>He drew from his vest pocket the roll of counterfeit
notes which had been intrusted to him, and
showed it to Paul.</p>

<p>“That doesn’t look as if I was in want of money,
does it?”</p>

<p>“No, it doesn’t,” Paul admitted. In truth he was
surprised at this unexpected wealth on the part of
his companion, and it occurred to him to wonder
whether he had engaged in another burglary in which
he had been more successful.</p>

<p>“No, I didn’t get it in the way you think,” he said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
answering Paul’s suspicious thought. “I got it in
the way of business. Now will you tell me where
my father lives?”</p>

<p>“I can’t without his permission.”</p>

<p>“Then tell him that I don’t want any money from
him. I am able to pay my own way now.”</p>

<p>“He says he is poor.”</p>

<p>“Do you believe him, 91?” asked Barclay.</p>

<p>“I think he must have some money,” answered
Paul, cautiously.</p>

<p>“So do I, decidedly. But he can keep it. Tell
him that. I only want to see him about some family
matters. It ain’t strange if a son wants to have a
chat with his father after twelve years, is it?”</p>

<p>“No, I should say not.”</p>

<p>“Tell the old man that I am willing to give him
five dollars as a sign of good faith. If he will give
me five, I’ll hand him ten.”</p>

<p>“I’ll tell him that,” said Paul, rather surprised,
and asking himself whether James Barclay was in
earnest.</p>

<p>“You couldn’t give me small bills for a ten, could
you?” asked Barclay, meaning to push his business
by Paul’s help.</p>

<p>“No, I couldn’t. I don’t carry any money about
with me except a little silver.”</p>

<p>“Never mind; I’ll get it somewhere else. Will
you let me know tomorrow what my father says?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“I’ll call at your office about ten o’clock.”</p>

<p>“I may be away, but if I am not you can see me.”</p>

<p>“How long have you been with my father?”</p>

<p>“Ever since I was five or six years old.”</p>

<p>“What made him take you? He isn’t so very
charitable.”</p>

<p>“There was some money that went with me, I have
heard.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>

<p>“I’ve no doubt of it. The old man is keen to look
out for Number One. He prefers that to looking out
for Number Ninety One.”</p>

<p>Paul laughed at the joke, though he didn’t think
it very brilliant.</p>

<p>“Do you expect he will leave you his money?”
questioned Barclay, with a sharp glance at Paul.</p>

<p>“No, I have no claims upon him.”</p>

<p>“That’s true, but you might take advantage of his
being weak and old.”</p>

<p>“What do you take me for?” asked Paul indignantly.</p>

<p>Barclay laughed.</p>

<p>“I don’t take you for an angel, and a few thousands
might be a temptation to you as well as the
next man.”</p>

<p>“Do you think your father has as much money as
that?”</p>

<p>“Why shouldn’t he? He has been always scrimping
and saving and never spending.”</p>

<p>“Well, it’s nothing to me,” said Paul. “If you
ask my opinion, I think he’ll never make a will, and
whatever he has will go to his natural heir. I suppose
that’s you.”</p>

<p>“Yes, it’s me. If I’m dead, I’ve got a wife and
two children.”</p>

<p>They had reached Barclay Street, and the Astor
House was close at hand.</p>

<p>“I must leave you now,” said Paul. “I go into the
hotel.”</p>

<p>“Very well. Don’t forget to tell my father what I
told you.”</p>

<p>“I will do so.”</p>

<p>That evening Paul, in redemption of his promise,
said to the miser:</p>

<p>“I saw your son, today, Jerry.”</p>

<p>The old man’s face wore a startled expression.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>

<p>“You saw&mdash;James?” he faltered.</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“Did he know you lived with me?”</p>

<p>“Yes, but I don’t know how he found out. Perhaps
he asked at our former lodgings.”</p>

<p>“What&mdash;what did he say?”</p>

<p>“He asked where you had moved.”</p>

<p>“You didn’t tell him?” said Jerry, in alarm.</p>

<p>“No, I said I could not without your permission.”</p>

<p>“Good boy, Paul. Don’t tell him&mdash;ever. He&mdash;he
would come here and ask for money. It would be
very foolish, for I am wretchedly poor. Why didn’t
you tell him that Paul?”</p>

<p>“I don’t think he would believe me if I did. But
you are mistaken, he says, about his wanting money.
He showed me a roll of bills, and said he had a good
position.”</p>

<p>“He asked me for fifty dollars when he came to
see me. He is a bold, bad man!”</p>

<p>“Now he says he is willing to give you money. He
says if you will give him five dollars back he will
give you a ten dollar bill.”</p>

<p>“Did he say that?” asked old Jerry, eagerly.</p>

<p>“He told me to tell you that.”</p>

<p>Old Jerry’s face wore a look of perplexity. He
hated to give up a chance of five dollars, but at the
same time he felt afraid of his son. He could not believe
him to be in earnest, for such liberality was by
no means characteristic of him.</p>

<p>“Did he&mdash;seem to be in earnest?” he asked Paul.</p>

<p>“Yes, he seemed to be, but you know him better
than I do. He said he wanted to have a chat with
you, as he had not seen you for so many years. What
shall I say to him?”</p>

<p>Old Jerry didn’t immediately reply. Avarice and
greed struggled in his mind with an instinctive fear
of his son.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>

<p>“I&mdash;I’ll think of it,” he answered. “I can’t tell just
yet.”</p>

<p>“Shall I say that to him?”</p>

<p>“Yes&mdash;and&mdash;Paul&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Well.”</p>

<p>“Don’t let him follow you home and find me out.
He’ll try to do it. He is a&mdash;a bad man, as he was a
bad boy.”</p>

<p>“I will do as you say, Jerry.”</p>

<p>Paul was not sorry to carry back this message, for
he, too, mistrusted James Barclay, and felt that his
desire to see his father covered some sinister design.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII_A_QUEER_COMPACT" id="CHAPTER_XVII_A_QUEER_COMPACT">CHAPTER XVII.<br /><span class="titlefont">A QUEER COMPACT.</span></a></h2>


<p>James Barclay was very much in earnest in
wishing to find his father’s new habitation, for he
was convinced that the old man possessed a moderate
fortune, and he felt that, sooner or later, it would
come to him. If in any way he could persuade old
Jerry to put it in his hands now, he would be
handsomely provided for.</p>

<p>He was not to see Paul until the next morning.
He secured lodgings at a low hotel on the Bowery,
where twenty five cents per night was charged.
The accommodation corresponded with the price,
but Barclay, fresh from Sing Sing, was not inclined
to be fastidious, and congratulated himself that
again he was a free man.</p>

<p>He was not unmindful of his business, but was
on the lookout for a chance to exchange his counterfeit
bills for good ones.</p>

<p>He strolled into a drinking saloon, and called
for a drink. By his side a man, from the country,
apparently, was just paying for a glass of whisky,
and in so doing displayed a wallet filled with bills.
Barclay felt interested in him at once.</p>

<p>“My friend,” he said, “won’t you drink with me?
I hate to drink alone.”</p>

<p>“You’re very polite, stranger, but I&mdash;hic&mdash;I guess
I’m about full.”</p>

<p>“O, you can stand another glass, I am sure.”</p>

<p>“Well, I don’t mind,” hiccoughed the countryman.
“You’re a&mdash;gen&mdash;gentleman.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>

<p>“So are you,” said Barclay, with a wink at the barkeeper.
“What’ll you have?”</p>

<p>The countryman expressed a wish for whisky
straight, and was served with a glass.</p>

<p>Then the two sat down, and engaged in conversation.
It was evident from the thick utterance of
the gentleman of the rural districts, that he was no
longer master of himself.</p>

<p>“By the way,” said Barclay, carelessly, “will you
do me a favor?”</p>

<p>“I can’t lend you any money,” answered the other,
with a remnant of prudence. “I promised my wife
I wouldn’t.”</p>

<p>“O, I don’t want a loan,” said Barclay. “Bless you,
I’ve got money enough. But I see you’ve got a
number of bills. Couldn’t you change a ten for me?”</p>

<p>The countryman saw no harm in this, and counted
out ten dollars in small bills, for which he accepted
a nice crisp ten dollar bill, which looked handsome,
but, as we know, was not worth the paper it was
printed upon.</p>

<p>“Won’t you take another drink in acknowledgment
of the favor?” asked Barclay. “It has saved my
going to the bank.”</p>

<p>The countryman was already so dizzy, that he had
the good sense to refuse, after trying to balance
himself on his feet without success.</p>

<p>“Then I’ll bid you good day,” said Barclay, who,
for obvious reasons, desired now to terminate the
acquaintance.</p>

<p>“Goo’ day,” said the other, in a husky voice.</p>

<p>“That was very well done!” soliloquized Barclay,
as he counted the good money and put it by itself in
an upper vest pocket. “The fellow’s so drunk that
he’ll never know where he got the bad tenner. That’ll
do for one day’s work.”</p>

<p>The next morning, a little before the time agreed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
upon with Paul, he was crossing the City Hall Park,
when he unexpectedly met the telegraph boy.</p>

<p>“Good morning, Number 91,” he said. “I was
just coming up to the office to look for you.”</p>

<p>“Then you are saved the trouble.”</p>

<p>“Yes; and now what word from my father?
Where can I find him?”</p>

<p>“He does not seem willing to see you,” answered
Paul.</p>

<p>James Barclay frowned angrily.</p>

<p>“I believe you’re doing this, you young rascal,
keeping me and the old man apart, so you can get
hold of his money yourself.”</p>

<p>“You are welcome to think what you like, Mr.
Barclay,” said Paul, with spirit. “Good morning!”</p>

<p>“Curse the kid!” muttered Barclay, following the
telegraph boy with a vindictive glance.</p>

<p>“That’s what I say, too, boss!”</p>

<p>Barclay turned quickly, and found the speaker to
be a bootblack, a boy about Paul’s size. It was Tom
Rafferty, a boy introduced in the first chapter, with
whose attempted imposition upon a smaller boy in
the same line of business Paul had forcibly interfered.</p>

<p>“So you know the kid?” he said, inquiringly.</p>

<p>“I’d ought to,” answered Tom. “Shine yer boots,
boss?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I’ll have a shine,” answered Barclay, thinking
he might make this boy of service.</p>

<p>“So you don’t like Number 91?”</p>

<p>“No, I don’t,” was the emphatic reply.</p>

<p>“What’s the matter with him?”</p>

<p>“He thinks himself above me, jest because he is a
telegraph boy, and I am a bootblack.”</p>

<p>“Have you known him long?”</p>

<p>“Ever since he was so high,” said Tom, indicating
the height of a boy of six.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>

<p>“Do you know the old man he lives with?”</p>

<p>“Know old Jerry? Of course I do. Used to live
in the same house, when dad was livin’.”</p>

<p>“So the boy has always lived with him?”</p>

<p>“Ever since I knowed him.”</p>

<p>“Humph! Where do they live now?”</p>

<p>“Round in Pearl Street.”</p>

<p>“No, they don’t. They’ve moved.”</p>

<p>“I didn’t know it. Must ’ave moved lately.”</p>

<p>“Yes, it was. Now, boy&mdash;what’s your name?”</p>

<p>“Tom Rafferty.”</p>

<p>“Then, Tom, would you like a job?”</p>

<p>“Wouldn’t I!”</p>

<p>“I want to find out where the boy and the old man
live. I’ve got some business with the old man, but
he don’t want to see me.”</p>

<p>“Wouldn’t Paul tell you?”</p>

<p>“No.”</p>

<p>“What’s it worth, boss?” asked Tom, with an eye
to business.</p>

<p>“It depends on how soon you can find out. How
can you find out?”</p>

<p>“I’ll foller Paul when he goes home from the
office.”</p>

<p>“That’ll do. Do you think you can find out for
me tonight, so as to let me know tomorrow morning?”</p>

<p>“I reckon I can, boss.”</p>

<p>“Meet me here tomorrow morning, and tell me
where they live, and I’ll give you a dollar.”</p>

<p>Tom had not been expecting more than a quarter,
and was very well pleased with Barclay’s liberality.</p>

<p>“I’ll do it, boss!” he said, striking the box, to indicate
that the shine was completed. Apart from the
money that was promised him, he was glad to thwart
Paul, who didn’t want his customer to ascertain the
address.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>

<p>“I’ll meet you here about nine o’clock, and have
another shine,” said Barclay, as he slipped ten cents&mdash;double
pay&mdash;into Tom’s hand.</p>

<p>“You’ll find me on hand, and right side up with
care,” said Tom. “You’re a gentleman I like to fall
in with.”</p>

<p>James Barclay walked away, well pleased with the
arrangement he had made.</p>

<p>“There’s more’n one way of finding out what you
want to know,” he soliloquized. “The old man
ain’t sharp, or else he thinks I ain’t. I’ll give him a
call when that troublesome telegraph boy is about
his business. Me and the old man will have considerable
business to discuss. He’s going to give me a
share of his money, or I’ll shake the life out of him. It
ain’t pleasant to discipline your dad, but when he
don’t treat you like he ought, it’s the only way.”</p>

<p>Tom Rafferty, towards the close of the afternoon,
loitered in the neighborhood of the telegraph office
where Paul was employed. When Number 91 left
the office and betook himself homeward, he did not
notice that he was followed at the distance of a few
rods by Tom Rafferty.</p>

<p>But such was the case.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII_JAMES_BARCLAY_OBTAINS_A_CLEW" id="CHAPTER_XVIII_JAMES_BARCLAY_OBTAINS_A_CLEW">CHAPTER XVIII.<br /><span class="titlefont">JAMES BARCLAY OBTAINS A CLEW.</span></a></h2>


<p>No commission could have been more congenial to
Tom Rafferty than to track Paul and the miser. He
had never liked Paul, whom he charged with putting
on airs, because he was better dressed than himself,
but his aversion had deepened to hatred since the
telegraph boy’s forcible interference in favor of little
Jack. He saw a way now to annoy Paul, for he was
satisfied that James Barclay was no friend of Jerry
or Number 91.</p>

<p>He hovered round the telegraph office till Paul
was dismissed, and then, unobserved by him, sauntered
along behind him. At Grand Street, Paul
crossed Broadway and proceeded eastward to where
Ludlow Street opens out of it, and proceeded in a
southerly direction for about five minutes. Had he
turned back, he might have suspected Tom’s motive
in following him, but he was absorbed in his own
thoughts, and never looked behind him. At length
he entered an open doorway and went upstairs. Tom
carefully noted the number, and then, with a look of
triumph, went back to his usual lounging place at
the City Hall Park.</p>

<p>The next morning, at the hour fixed, James Barclay
entered the park and looked about for Tom. Tom,
who was also on the lookout for him, put himself in
his way.</p>

<p>“Shine yer boots, boss?” he asked, with a grin.</p>

<p>“Oh, you’re the boy I saw yesterday,” said Barclay,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
recognizing him. “Well, what luck have you had?”</p>

<p>“I follered him, and found out where he lives,
boss.”</p>

<p>“Good!” said Barclay, brightening up. “Where is
it?”</p>

<p>“Where’s the dollar you was to give me?” asked
Tom, cautiously.</p>

<p>“Here it is!” said Barclay, producing a silver
dollar.</p>

<p>“Give it here, boss.”</p>

<p>“First tell me where my&mdash;where the telegraph boy
lives.”</p>

<p>“If I should, you might put it back in your
pocket,” said Tom, cunningly.</p>

<p>Barclay did not resent this imputation upon his
good faith, for his sense of honor was not very keen,
and he would only have regarded such a trick as
smart. In this case, however, he was so anxious to
learn where his father lived that he had no idea of
cheating his confidential messenger.</p>

<p>“No, boy, I’m on the square,” he answered.
“Here, take the money and tell me the number.”</p>

<p>Tom took the dollar, chucked it in the air, catching
it dexterously as it came down, and then pocketed it
with an air of satisfaction. He was neither provident
nor industrious, and it was rare that he found himself
in possession of so large a sum.</p>

<p>“No. 105 Ludlow Street,” he said. “That’s the
number.”</p>

<p>“Are you sure of that? Did you see the old man?”
demanded Barclay, eagerly.</p>

<p>“No, I didn’t see him, but I knowed he was there,
for he and Paul live together,” answered Tom.</p>

<p>“That’s near Grand Street, isn’t it?”</p>

<p>“You’ve hit it boss. Shine yer boots?”</p>

<p>“Go ahead!”</p>

<p>While this operation was being performed, Tom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
whose curiosity was excited, began to question in his
turn.</p>

<p>“You ain’t no relation to Paul, be you?” he asked.</p>

<p>“What business is it of yours?” demanded Barclay,
frowning.</p>

<p>“Didn’t know yer wanted to keep it secret,” said
Tom, abashed.</p>

<p>“Have you known the old man long?”</p>

<p>“I’ve knowed old Jerry ever since I was a small
kid.”</p>

<p>“How does he make his living?”</p>

<p>“He begs in the streets, when he can get away
from Paul. Number 91 is so proud he won’t let him
when he knows it.”</p>

<p>“I should think he would rather have the old man
beg, so he wouldn’t have to give him so much
money.”</p>

<p>“So should I. I wouldn’t mind. Old Jerry could
make enough begging to support himself, easy.”</p>

<p>“Evidently you are a different chap from this telegraph
boy,” observed Barclay, not without sarcasm.</p>

<p>“I hope so,” said Tom Rafferty. “I don’t put on
no airs.”</p>

<p>“And he does?”</p>

<p>“You’d better believe it. And after all he’s only a
telegraph boy. I could go on the telegraph myself,
if I wanted to.”</p>

<p>“Why don’t you?”</p>

<p>“I’d rather have my liberty, and be my own boss.
I guess I make as much money, any way.”</p>

<p>“You could dress better, and be cleaner,” suggested
Barclay, surveying the ragged costume and
soiled face and hands of the bootblack.</p>

<p>“What’s the use of being clean?” asked Tom, with
calm philosophy. “You don’t feel no better. Besides,
you’re sure to get dirty again. It’s all foolishness.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>

<p>“Right you are, my boy,” said Barclay, with a
smile. “There isn’t much of that foolishness about
you.”</p>

<p>Here the boy struck the box smartly with his
brush, as a sign that the job was completed.</p>

<p>Barclay put down his foot and prepared to go.</p>

<p>“You haven’t paid, boss,” said the bootblack.</p>

<p>“I gave you a dollar.”</p>

<p>“That was for something else. You haven’t paid
for the shine.”</p>

<p>“You ought to throw that in,” said Barclay.</p>

<p>“Don’t do business that way, boss.”</p>

<p>“Here’s your money, then,” said Barclay, throwing
a nickel on the ground at his feet. He had intended
all the time to give it, but amused himself by teasing
the boy. “Supposing I should want you again, shall
I find you here?”</p>

<p>“Yes, boss; this is my office,” answered Tom,
humorously. “If it’s more convenient, you kin call
at my house on Fifth Avenue.”</p>

<p>James Barclay left the park in a state of high satisfaction.
It was important to his schemes to find
his father, and now there seemed to be no further
difficulty in the way. Then, too, he rather plumed
himself on his success as a detective. Old Jerry,
prompted probably by Paul, had removed his residence
with the object of avoiding him and putting
him off the track. But it had all proved useless.
Thanks, as he assured himself, to his remarkable
sharpness, he had foiled the old man and found out
what he had attempted to conceal.</p>

<p>“How glum he will look when he sees me coming
into his room!” he chuckled to himself. “It’ll be
worth five dollars to see his scared face. Serves him
right, too, for tryin’ to deceive his own flesh and
blood.”</p>

<p>It was no little additional satisfaction that Paul,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
too, against whom he had a grudge for his interference
with his attempt at burglary, would be disappointed
and discomfited.</p>

<p>Should he go at once to call on his father? By the
City Hall clock it lacked a quarter of ten. There was
no hurry, for he had his address, and could find him
any time. He wanted to make another call first, and
decided to do so. What this call was, is not essential
to my story. It is sufficient to say that it occupied
him two hours, and that it was a little past twelve
when he reached the new residence of his father in
Ludlow Street.</p>

<p>There was a woman standing at the door.</p>

<p>“Is there an old man and a telegraph boy living
here?” asked Barclay.</p>

<p>“Yes,” answered the woman. “Head of the stairs
on the third floor.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, ma’am. I’m much obliged.”</p>

<p>James Barclay ascended the stairs, smiling to himself
all the way.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX_OLD_JERRY_RECEIVES_A_VISIT" id="CHAPTER_XIX_OLD_JERRY_RECEIVES_A_VISIT">CHAPTER XIX.<br /><span class="titlefont">OLD JERRY RECEIVES A VISIT.</span></a></h2>


<p>Though old Jerry was more sensible than some
misers in resisting the temptation of keeping all his
money at home, where he might feast his eyes in the
contemplation of it, he had a little hoard of gold
pieces which he secreted in his room, and which
from time to time he took out and counted with
gloating eyes.</p>

<p>This very day he had taken them from their place
of concealment, and, spreading them on the bed, was
counting them over with trembling fingers when
his son quietly opened the door, and entered the
room.</p>

<p>The old man looked around, pale and alarmed, and
clutched at the gold in the hope of hiding it before
the intruder, whoever it might be, could catch a
glimpse of it. But he was nervous, and had only
thrust a part of the gold hurriedly into his pocket
when James entered.</p>

<p>Over the old man’s face there crept an expression
of dire dismay. There was no one in the world
whom he less wished to see than his son.</p>

<p>The latter’s keen glance detected his father’s employment,
and did not fail to observe the half dozen
gold pieces still remaining on the bed spread, though
old Jerry, as quickly as possible, gathered them up,
and thrust them into his pocket.</p>

<p>“Good morning, dad!” said James, in a jocular
tone. “I am afraid you are not glad to see me.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>

<p>Old Jerry stared at him in mute consternation.</p>

<p>“Considering that I am your only son, you might
give me a better welcome,” said James, carefully
closing the door, and sinking into a chair.</p>

<p>“Go away, go away!” said the old man, hoarsely.
“You&mdash;you are a bold, bad man, and I don’t want to
see you.”</p>

<p>“Come, dad, that is unkind!” said James Barclay,
in a bantering tone. “You mustn’t forget that I am
your son.”</p>

<p>“I wish I could forget it,” muttered the old man.</p>

<p>“I am not so bad as you think I am, father. Seeing
that we are all that is left of the family, it’s only
right that we should live friendly. I’m glad to see
you are not so poor as you pretend.”</p>

<p>“You&mdash;you are mistaken, James,” whined old Jerry.
“I am very poor.”</p>

<p>“That don’t go down, dad. What were you doing
when I came in?”</p>

<p>Old Jerry looked confused.</p>

<p>“How many gold pieces have you got there? Let
me count them.”</p>

<p>“Three&mdash;or four,” stammered Jerry, unable to
deny the statement entirely.</p>

<p>“Three or four!” repeated James, mockingly.
“Thirty or forty, more likely.”</p>

<p>“You&mdash;you are quite wrong, James,” said Jerry,
in nervous alarm. “It’s&mdash;it’s all I have in the world.”</p>

<p>“Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn’t. When I was
here before, you pretended you didn’t have any
money at all. What are you going to do with it?”</p>

<p>“I am keeping it to&mdash;to bury me,” answered Jerry.</p>

<p>“Then you’d better give it to me. You can’t bury
yourself, you know. I’ll see you buried all right
when the time comes.”</p>

<p>“I couldn’t do it, James. I must keep it as long
as I live. When I die&mdash;”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>

<p>“It comes to me, I suppose.”</p>

<p>“Ye&mdash;es.”</p>

<p>“Then I might as well have it now, don’t you
think so, dad?”</p>

<p>“Go away! I don’t feel well. I want to be left
alone,” stammered Jerry, with a terrified look at the
stout, broad shouldered visitor, whom he could hardly
believe to be his son, so great was the difference between
the burly strength of the one, and the shrinking
weakness of the other.</p>

<p>“Look here, dad, you ain’t treating me well. You
don’t seem to consider that I am your only son. Are
you saving up your money for that young telegraph
brat that lives with you?”</p>

<p>“Paul is a good boy,” mumbled Jerry. “He doesn’t
scare and trouble me like you, James.”</p>

<p>“That isn’t answering my question. Are you going
to leave him all your money?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I have very little&mdash;to leave, James,” returned
the old man, lapsing into his usual whine. “There
won’t be anything left when my funeral expenses are
paid.”</p>

<p>“What there is will go to me, will it?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I suppose so,” faltered Jerry.</p>

<p>“Then I think you’d better make your will and
say so. Otherwise that boy will claim all.”</p>

<p>“Paul is a good boy. I&mdash;I should starve but for
what he brings me every week.”</p>

<p>“You look half starved as it is. Come, are you
willing to make your will in my favor?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I’ll think of it, James.”</p>

<p>“And give it to me to keep.”</p>

<p>“It&mdash;it won’t do you any good, I&mdash;I am so poor.”</p>

<p>“I’ll take the chance of that. You’ve got more
money in your pocket than would bury you five times
over.”</p>

<p>“No&mdash;no,” protested the old man in alarm. “You&mdash;you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
frighten me, James. I don’t feel well. Won’t
you go away?”</p>

<p>“There is no need to be scared, dad. I don’t want
your money.”</p>

<p>“Is that true, James?” said the old man, in a tone
of relief. “I have so little it wouldn’t do you any
good.”</p>

<p>“Didn’t that boy tell you I wanted to make you a
present?”</p>

<p>“Yes, he said so.”</p>

<p>“Yet you hid away from me and wouldn’t let me
know where you lived.”</p>

<p>“Did Paul tell you? How did you find me out,
James?”</p>

<p>“No, he didn’t tell me, but I found out all the
same. Never mind how! Only I warn you it won’t
do you any good to hide from me in future. I have
ways of finding you out. But let me convince you
that I don’t need your money. Do you see that?”</p>

<p>As he spoke he drew out a roll of counterfeit bills
and exhibited them to the astonished eyes of old
Jerry.</p>

<p>The old man regarded him with new respect as
the possessor of such unexpected wealth.</p>

<p>“Are&mdash;are they square?” he asked.</p>

<p>“Of course they are,” answered James. “I intended
to give you a present if you hadn’t treated
me so coolly&mdash;”</p>

<p>“I meant no offense, James,” said the old man,
eying the money with a look of greed.</p>

<p>“Well, if you apologize, it’s all right!” said James,
with noble magnanimity. “You’ll find you haven’t
judged me right. I can do more for you than that
telegraph kid. But I want you to trust me, and treat
me kind, do hear?”</p>

<p>“Yes,” answered Jerry, meekly.</p>

<p>“To show you that I’m in earnest, I’ll make you a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
fair offer. Give me two of those five dollar gold
pieces, and I’ll give you these two ten dollar bills.
If that isn’t a handsome offer, I don’t know what is.”</p>

<p>Jerry was dazzled by this offer. The fact that it
was made by such a scapegrace as he knew his son
to be should have put him on his guard, but cupidity
blinded him.</p>

<p>“Do you mean it, James?” he asked, surveying
the bills with avidity.</p>

<p>“Certainly I do. I make the present just to show
you that I don’t bear no grudge, and want to live
friendly.”</p>

<p>“Let me see the bills, James.”</p>

<p>“There, take them in your hand if you like.”</p>

<p>Old Jerry took the bills, and eyed them at first
longingly, but as he marked their new appearance a
suspicion entered his mind. If they were counterfeit
his son’s unexpected liberal offer would be accounted
for. James’s character, too, made it very probable
that he would engage in circulating counterfeit bills.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I would rather keep the gold, James,” he said,
handing back the bills.</p>

<p>“Then you’re a fool!” said James Barclay roughly.
“I see you don’t want to be friendly. I wanted to
be on good terms with you, seein’ you’re my father,
but now I don’t care. Give me that gold!”</p>

<p>“Go away!” said the old man, in renewed alarm.</p>

<p>James Barclay’s reply was to rise from his seat, and
stride over to where his father was sitting on the
bed. He seized the old man roughly by the shoulder,
and made a motion to search the pocket containing
the gold pieces.</p>

<p>“Give it up peaceably or I’ll hurt you!” he said.</p>

<p>Jerry uttered a shrill cry, and tried to make a
feeble opposition, but he was like a child in the
hands of the burly ruffian.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>

<p>“Stop your whimpering!” said James, fiercely.
“That gold I mean to have, and you’d best give it
up.”</p>

<p>Jerry again uttered a cry, which was heard by
Mrs. Hogan, an opposite neighbor, who, opening the
door, saw, unnoticed by either, the uneven struggle
between Jerry and his assailant.</p>

<p>Mrs. Hogan was a brave woman. She dashed
back into her own room, and returned in an instant
with a dipper of hot water. Armed with this she
was prepared for hostilities.</p>

<p>“Let the old man alone, you thafe of the worruld!”
she exclaimed, indignantly.</p>

<p>James Barclay turned, and, seeing that it was a
woman, replied scornfully, “Get out of here, woman,
or it’ll be the worse for you!”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX_JAMES_BARCLAY_COMES_TO_GRIEF" id="CHAPTER_XX_JAMES_BARCLAY_COMES_TO_GRIEF">CHAPTER XX.<br /><span class="titlefont">JAMES BARCLAY COMES TO GRIEF.</span></a></h2>


<p>“Get out yourself!” retorted Mrs. Hogan, as with
undaunted mien she faced the ruffian. “What are
you doin’ to old Jerry?”</p>

<p>“Mind your business, woman, and leave the room,
if you don’t want to get hurt!”</p>

<p>James Barclay still retained his grip upon the old
man as he spoke.</p>

<p>He was as bold as his father was timid, and did
not mean to be frightened away by a woman.</p>

<p>“I’m no more a woman than yourself,” said Mrs.
Hogan, angrily, who preferred to be addressed as a
lady.</p>

<p>“Well, you’re dressed like one, any way,” rejoined
Barclay, with a smile of amusement. “My father and
I have a little business together, and you’re not
wanted.”</p>

<p>“Is he your son, Jerry?” asked Mrs. Hogan, not
certain whether the statement was true.</p>

<p>“Yes,” answered Jerry, feebly, “but he wants to
rob me. Take him away, Mrs. Hogan.”</p>

<p>“Ain’t you ashamed of yourself to trate your old
father so manely?” demanded Mrs. Hogan, indignantly.</p>

<p>“Give me the money, father, and I’ll go,” said
Barclay, thinking it politic to get away as soon as
possible.</p>

<p>“Take him away!” said old Jerry, feebly.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>

<p>“I’ll do it!” responded Mrs. Hogan. “I’ll tache
him, the murtherin’ thafe!”</p>

<p>She suited the action to the word, and dashed the
scalding hot water into the face of James Barclay.</p>

<p>He uttered a hoarse cry of mingled rage and pain,
and, leaving his father, dashed after his bold assailant.</p>

<p>He was partially blinded, however, by the pain,
and she easily escaped.</p>

<p>Scarcely knowing where he went, he ran against
an athletic, broad shouldered man, who was bringing
up a basket of coal.</p>

<p>“O, that’s your game, is it?” said the newcomer,
fancying the assault intentional. “I don’t know who
you are, but I’ll give ye all ye want. No man can
hit Dennis O’Brien widout gettin’ as good as he
gives.”</p>

<p>In a trice the two men were grappling, and, losing
their balance, tumbled down the stairs, receiving
some hard knocks on the way. The result was that
both were arrested by a passing policeman, and
locked up.</p>

<p>James Barclay, whose burns were severe, was sent
to the hospital on the Island, and it was thirty days
before he was free to pursue his plans again.</p>

<p>Old Jerry, picking himself up after his narrow
escape, carefully counted his gold pieces, and to his
great relief found that none were missing.</p>

<p>He breathed a sigh of relief when he learned that
his son had been arrested, and determined to deposit
his gold in the savings bank, so as to guard against
future robbery.</p>

<p>It was about this time that Paul, called up town
by some errand, was crossing Madison Square, when
he heard his name called.</p>

<p>Looking up he recognized, with no little pleasure
the smiling face of Jennie Cunningham.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>

<p>She was accompanied by a boy of about Paul’s
size, fashionably dressed, and wearing an expression
of high self appreciation on his rather narrow face.</p>

<p>“How are you, Paul? It’s an age since I saw
you,” said the young heiress, cordially, offering her
hand.</p>

<p>“I am glad to see you, Miss Jennie,” responded
Paul.</p>

<p>“Why haven’t you been up to see us? I have been
expecting you for a long time.”</p>

<p>“I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t be intruding.”</p>

<p>“Then I’ll tell you once for all, you needn’t be a
bit afraid. I want to beat you at dominoes. You
beat me last time, didn’t you?”</p>

<p>“I believe so,” said Paul.</p>

<p>“Then I want my revenge. When will you come?”</p>

<p>“Whenever I am invited,” said Paul, smiling.</p>

<p>“That reminds me&mdash;how stupid I was to forget it&mdash;that
I am to have a fancy dress party of young
people next Wednesday evening. You’ll come, won’t
you?”</p>

<p>“I am afraid I have no clothes fit to wear at a
party.”</p>

<p>“O, you are to come in costume. Come as a telegraph
boy. That will be the very thing. You’ll act
the character naturally, you know, and no one will
know that you are a real telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“I should like very much to come, if I can come in
my uniform.”</p>

<p>“That’s just what I want. Mind, then, Wednesday
evening, at eight o’clock. What is the number of
your office?”</p>

<p>“No. &mdash;&mdash; Broadway.”</p>

<p>“I will send you a regular card of invitation.
Then you will be treated just like the rest.”</p>

<p>She was about to turn away when a thought struck
her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>

<p>“O, I forgot to introduce you to my cousin, Mark
Sterling. Mark, this is Paul Parton, the boy who
drove off the burglar when papa was gone to Washington.
You’ve heard me speak of him?”</p>

<p>“O, yes, I’ve heard of him,” said Mark, coldly.
“He behaved in a very creditable way&mdash;for a telegraph
boy,” he continued, in a patronizing tone.</p>

<p>“Or for any other boy!” rejoined Jennie, quickly.
“Really, I look upon Paul quite as a hero.”</p>

<p>“I am afraid I am not entitled to such high praise,”
said Paul, modestly.</p>

<p>“You must make allowances for my Cousin Jennie,”
said Mark. “She is a girl, and girls are all apt to
gush.”</p>

<p>“This particular girl isn’t, Mark,” said his cousin,
indignantly. “Have you ever seen the burglar since,
Paul?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“O, tell me where.”</p>

<p>“On Broadway.”</p>

<p>“Why didn’t you have him arrested?”</p>

<p>“There was no policeman at hand. Besides, I told
him that night that if he would go peaceably I would
not molest him.”</p>

<p>“Such a promise doesn’t count,” said Mark, in a
tone of authority. “You should have called a policeman.”</p>

<p>“My promise always counts!” said Paul, firmly.</p>

<p>“Even if given to a burglar?” said Mark, with a
sneer.</p>

<p>“Yes, even if given to a burglar.”</p>

<p>Mark took off his hat mockingly.</p>

<p>“Really, I wasn’t prepared to find such a lofty
sense of honor&mdash;in a telegraph boy!” he said, with a
satirical smile.</p>

<p>“I am afraid you are not very well acquainted with
telegraph boys,” said Paul, good naturedly.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>

<p>He quite understood that Mark meant to sneer at
him, but being confident of Jennie Cunningham’s
favor, he felt quite indifferent to the opinion of her
cousin.</p>

<p>“No,” said Mark, significantly; “I have never had
the honor of associating much with that class of&mdash;persons.”</p>

<p>“Come, Mark, don’t make yourself so disagreeable,”
said Jennie, unceremoniously. “Remember
that Paul is a particular friend of mine.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, Miss Jennie,” said Paul, gratefully.</p>

<p>“I was not aware of that,” said Mark, stiffly.</p>

<p>“I am afraid I must be going; my time is not my
own,” said Paul. “Good morning, Miss Jennie;
good morning, Mr. Sterling.”</p>

<p>Jennie Cunningham responded cordially, but Mark
affected not to hear the telegraph boy’s farewell. He
was not in the best of humor, having a partiality for
his pretty cousin, and being disposed to regard with
jealousy any kindness bestowed by her upon other
boys. He was foolish enough to venture upon a
remonstrance, without reflecting that this was the
poorest possible way of recommending himself to the
favor of his companion.</p>

<p>“Jennie,” he commenced, “I am very much surprised
at the notice you take of that low telegraph
boy.”</p>

<p>“Do you mean Paul Parton?”</p>

<p>“Yes, if that is the fellow’s name.”</p>

<p>“Then I wish you to understand that he is not a low
boy.”</p>

<p>“What do you know of him? What do you know
of his family?”</p>

<p>“Nothing, except that he has neither father nor
mother living.”</p>

<p>“Probably they were low persons.”</p>

<p>“Why probably?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>

<p>“You know well enough that nice boys don’t become
telegraph messengers.”</p>

<p>“Paul is a nice boy,” asserted Jennie, with spirit.</p>

<p>“You seem to be infatuated with him,” said Mark,
shrugging his shoulders.</p>

<p>“Because I treat him with common politeness?”</p>

<p>“Didn’t you invite him to your party next Wednesday?”</p>

<p>“Suppose I did?”</p>

<p>“Do you think it suitable to have a boy like that
among your guests?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I do.”</p>

<p>“I don’t believe your mother will approve of it.”</p>

<p>“My mother invited Paul to spend the evening
whenever he had time.”</p>

<p>This rather took Mark by surprise. He could not
very well say anything in condemnation of his aunt,
though he chose to lecture his cousin.</p>

<p>“I hope you won’t expect me to take any notice of
him,” he said, with dignity.</p>

<p>“O, I don’t think he will insist upon it. I will
take care that he feels himself at home.”</p>

<p>Mark did not venture to say more, but walked beside
his cousin in a disgusted frame of mind. I am
afraid he was really jealous of Paul, whom, against
his will, he was forced to admit to be a very good
looking boy.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI_THE_FANCY_DRESS_PARTY" id="CHAPTER_XXI_THE_FANCY_DRESS_PARTY">CHAPTER XXI.<br /><span class="titlefont">THE FANCY DRESS PARTY.</span></a></h2>


<p>Paul might have hesitated about accepting the invitation
to attend a fashionable party if he had not
been on such cordial and friendly terms with his
young hostess and her family. He was sure to be
kindly treated by them and by the majority of the
guests who very properly follow the lead of their
entertainers. He foresaw that Mark would snub him
if he had an opportunity, but for this he cared little.
It was clear that Mark was foolishly puffed up with
an idea of his own consequence, and had been
accustomed to look with scorn upon all who were
not on the same social plane as himself.</p>

<p>Paul had for some time been thinking of ordering
another and newer uniform, and thought it good
policy to do so at once, that he might have the new
suit to wear for the first time at Jennie Cunningham’s
party. It is the custom for boys to obtain
them from the company, paying by installments, or
regular weekly deductions from their pay.</p>

<p>The next morning some surprise was excited at the
office by the receipt of a square envelope, of perfumed
French paper, directed to</p>

<p class="center">PAUL PARTON, A. D. T., No. 91.
</p>

<p>“A love letter, I suppose,” said the chief, with a
smile, as he handed the note to Paul.</p>

<p>Paul opened it, and, having no reason for secrecy,
passed it to the superintendent.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>

<p>“An invitation to a fancy dress party!” said that
official, in surprise. “You seem to be pretty thick
with the Cunninghams, Number 91.”</p>

<p>“They are very polite and kind,” said Paul.</p>

<p>“I suppose you are trying to ingratiate yourself
with the young lady.”</p>

<p>“I am too young to think of that,” answered the
telegraph boy, very sensibly.</p>

<p>“Shall you accept the invitation?”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

<p>“You must go in fancy dress.”</p>

<p>“I have already decided to go as a telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“Then you knew of this before?”</p>

<p>“I met Miss Jennie yesterday in Madison Square,
and was told she meant to invite me.”</p>

<p>“You are a lucky boy.”</p>

<p>“So I think, sir.”</p>

<p>From that time Paul was treated with greater
consideration in the office, the chief regarding him
as a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protege</i> of the Cunninghams. This was an advantage,
for he was now employed on the most
agreeable and desirable commissions that came to
the office.</p>

<p>On Wednesday morning Paul said to old Jerry:
“I shall be home late tonight, Jerry.”</p>

<p>“Why, Paul? Will you be kept at the office?”</p>

<p>“No; I am to attend a party.”</p>

<p>Jerry opened his eyes.</p>

<p>“A party! Where, Paul?”</p>

<p>“In Fifty First Street. It is a fancy dress party.”</p>

<p>“But how came they to invite you?”</p>

<p>“They employed me on one occasion, and have
treated me in a friendly way since.”</p>

<p>“I don’t understand it, Paul. Is it a&mdash;a rich
family?”</p>

<p>“Yes, Jerry.”</p>

<p>The old man’s eyes lighted up hopefully.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>

<p>“And they are good friends of yours, Paul?” he
asked.</p>

<p>“Yes, grand&mdash;yes, Jerry.”</p>

<p>“Then, Paul, you can do me a great favor. You
will, won’t you?” pleaded the old man, coaxingly.</p>

<p>“What is it?” inquired Paul, suspiciously.</p>

<p>“Tell them how poor I am, Paul, and ask them
if they won’t help me. It would be nothing to rich
folks to send an old man ten dollars, or twenty,
and would do me a sight of good.”</p>

<p>“You must be crazy to ask me such a thing,”
answered Paul, sternly. “Have you no shame, or
do you think I have none, to beg money of strangers?”</p>

<p>“But I am so poor, Paul,” whined the miser.</p>

<p>“I am tired of hearing of that, Jerry,” said the
boy, with an expression of disgust on his face. “It
was bad enough when I believed you to be really
poor, but now that I know you to have plenty of
money, and are very likely rich, it makes me sick
to hear you tell such falsehoods.”</p>

<p>“Is this the way you talk to a poor old man who
has brought you up?” whined old Jerry.</p>

<p>Paul was in no wise moved by this appeal. He
knew too well the extent of his obligations to the
old miser.</p>

<p>“I have always paid my way, Jerry,” he said,
coldly. “Even when I was only six years old, I
earned all I cost you. If you think I am any expense
to you, I am willing to leave you any time.”</p>

<p>“No, no, Paul,” said old Jerry in alarm. “I can’t
spare you. I am getting old, and I don’t want to
be left alone.”</p>

<p>“Then don’t ask me to do what I am ashamed of,
Jerry.”</p>

<p>Paul arrived at the party about twenty minutes
after eight. He did not care to be among the first
in attendance. He was shown upstairs to the gentlemen’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
reception room, and, having adjusted his
toilet, went downstairs. Jennie and her mother
stood at one end of the drawing room.</p>

<p>Paul made his way towards her, and, following the
example of other guests, shook hands, and offered
congratulations, for it was Jennie’s birthday.</p>

<p>“I am glad to see you, Paul,” said Jennie, with a
smile, and her mother echoed the welcome.</p>

<p>Turning away, Paul met the eyes of Mark Sterling,
bent upon him with a satirical look.</p>

<p>“Good evening,” said Paul, politely.</p>

<p>“So you’re on hand!” said Mark, not over courteously.</p>

<p>“As you see,” answered Paul, coolly. “That is a
fine costume of yours.”</p>

<p>Mark sustained the character of a young Highland
chieftain, his dress being quite costly.</p>

<p>“Yes,” he answered, his vanity gratified, even by a
compliment from a telegraph boy. “You’ve got a
new suit, haven’t you?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“It is a pity you went to such an expense. No
one is likely to take much notice of a telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“O, I shall use it on duty,” answered Paul. “You
are very considerate for me.”</p>

<p>“Paul, let me introduce you to Miss Grace De
Vere,” said Mrs. Cunningham.</p>

<p>Paul bowed politely to a pretty brunette of fourteen,
dressed as a flower girl.</p>

<p>“Shall we promenade?” asked Paul, observing that
many of the guests were walking in couples.</p>

<p>“Yes, if you like. I suppose it is very appropriate
for a telegraph boy and a flower girl to walk together,”
said Grace, laughing. “What a very natural
telegraph boy you make! Where did you get the
uniform? Did you borrow it of a real telegraph
boy?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>

<p>“No,” answered Paul, “I had it made expressly
for me.”</p>

<p>“I suppose that is better. I hired my suit of a
costumer.”</p>

<p>As Paul and Grace were promenading, they met
Mark escorting a pale, sallow girl with a long nose,
but very expensively dressed as a maid of honor.
Mark turned up his nose, but looked rather envious,
nevertheless, for Grace De Vere was not only pretty,
but of high family. He said something to his companion,
and both stared impertinently at Paul.</p>

<p>“Do you know Mark Sterling?” asked Grace.</p>

<p>“Only a little.”</p>

<p>“I don’t like him at all. He is awfully disagreeable.
He looks as if he didn’t like you.”</p>

<p>“I don’t think he does. Can you tell me the name
of the young lady with him?”</p>

<p>“It is Irene Braddon. Do you admire her?”</p>

<p>“I prefer my present partner,” said Paul.</p>

<p>“Thank you; you are very gallant. Still, it isn’t
much of a compliment. Irene belongs to a rich
family, but she is disagreeable, and few like her.”</p>

<p>“Is Mark an admirer of hers?”</p>

<p>“He likes to be seen with her because she is of a
rich and prominent family. But he likes his cousin,
Jennie Cunningham, best. He is jealous of every
boy who pays her any attention. But I want to ask
you a question. Why have I never met you before
at any parties? I am sure I should have remembered
you.”</p>

<p>“This is the first party I ever attended.”</p>

<p>“Indeed! How can that be?”</p>

<p>“Because I am really what I represent, a telegraph
boy.”</p>

<p>Paul watched the face of his young companion
closely, fearing that this revelation would cut him off
from her favor.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>

<p>“You don’t mean to say that you are the telegraph
boy that frightened away the burglar?” inquired
Grace, eagerly.</p>

<p>“I believe I am.”</p>

<p>“Why, you are quite a hero!” exclaimed Grace,
enthusiastically.</p>

<p>“O, no,” answered Paul, modestly. “It didn’t
take much courage.”</p>

<p>Grace asked Paul a great many questions, and did
not seem at all shocked to learn that she was escorted
by a common telegraph boy.</p>

<p>“Come, Grace,” said Jennie, after a while, “we
can’t have you two monopolize each other. My
cousin, Mark, solicits the honor of escorting you.
Paul, if you are a very good boy, you may walk with
me.”</p>

<p>“Did you know, Miss Grace,” said Mark, “that you
were walking with a real telegraph boy?”</p>

<p>“Yes, he told me so.”</p>

<p>“I am surprised that my Cousin Jennie should
have invited him here.”</p>

<p>“I am not at all. I think him the handsomest boy
at the party.”</p>

<p>“There is no accounting for taste,” rejoined Mark,
very much disgusted at this laudation of a boy he
despised.</p>

<p>“He is so agreeable, too,” added Grace, with
malicious pleasure at her companion’s discomfiture.</p>

<p>“He has plenty of cheek!” said Mark. “He tries
to make himself very conspicuous. It would be
better taste to stand quietly in a corner.”</p>

<p>Later in the evening, Paul became more conspicuous,
and Mark became still more disgusted with him.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII_THE_YOUNG_MINSTRELS" id="CHAPTER_XXII_THE_YOUNG_MINSTRELS">CHAPTER XXII.<br /><span class="titlefont">THE YOUNG MINSTRELS.</span></a></h2>


<p>About half past nine Jennie beckoned Paul to come
into the back parlor, which was comparatively
deserted.</p>

<p>“I am going to ask a favor of you,” she said.</p>

<p>“I shall be glad to do anything you wish,” said
Paul, earnestly.</p>

<p>“I am preparing a surprise for the company&mdash;something
not down in the programme. I ask you to
help me because you can sing.”</p>

<p>Paul blushed.</p>

<p>“I don’t call it singing,” he said, modestly.</p>

<p>“I am sure you have a very nice voice, Paul. Now
I will tell you what I want. You and I are to dress
as Italian street singers&mdash;I have a harp on which I
can play a little. We will come in as soon as we are
ready and surprise the company.”</p>

<p>“Will it be necessary to sing in Italian?” asked
Paul, with a smile. “I have forgotten all mine.”</p>

<p>“You know as much as I do. We will sing some
of the popular ballads. Here is a list which I have
written down. Do you know them?”</p>

<p>Paul looked over the list and selected three which
he felt able to sing.</p>

<p>“Very well,” said Jennie, with satisfaction. “You
will find your suit ready in your dressing room. I
have spoken to one of the boys&mdash;Arthur Constable&mdash;to
go up and assist you. Now, will you be ready in
fifteen minutes?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes,” answered Paul, confidently.</p>

<p>“I wonder what Jennie and the telegraph boy are
talking about so earnestly!” thought Mark, with a
scowl, for he had just noticed their conversation.
“I never suspected that Jennie had such low tastes.”</p>

<p>An unpleasant frown gathered on Mark’s face,
which he made no attempt to conceal. He was getting
to dislike Paul more and more.</p>

<p>Next the two whose intimacy had provoked his
discontent left the room, and his anger increased.</p>

<p>Presently, however, Mr. Cunningham entered the
room and said, with a smile:</p>

<p>“Young people, I have engaged the services of two
Italian minstrels, who will try to entertain you for
a short time.”</p>

<p>Instantly there was a hush of expectation, for
the announcement was understood literally.</p>

<p>The door was thrown open, and Paul and Jennie
entered. Paul wore a suit of black velvet, and a
hat also of velvet, in which it must be admitted
he looked very handsome. Jennie was attired also
in a characteristic national costume, and carried in
her hand a harp.</p>

<p>As they entered together most of the company
agreed that they made a very attractive picture.</p>

<p>They advanced, hand in hand, till they reached
a position at the head of the room. Then Jennie
struck her harp, and the two began to sing a favorite
melody, their voices according remarkably well.</p>

<p>There was a sound of applause at the end of the
first song. Paul bowed, and, taking his hat from
his head, gravely made the round of the guests.
Pennies were dropped by such as had them.</p>

<p>When Paul reached Mark he was tempted to pass
him by, for he saw the scornful smile upon his face,
but he did not care to make a scene, and held out
his cap to him as well as the rest.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>

<p>Mark dropped in a penny.</p>

<p>“That’s for the monkey,” he said, in a significant
tone. “Keep it yourself.”</p>

<p>“Thank you,” said Paul, with unruffled good
humor, for he felt that he could afford to be good
natured. “Your liberality is unexpected.”</p>

<p>Mark bit his lips, foolishly taking offense at this
good natured retort.</p>

<p>Another song was vociferously called for and
given. Then a third was demanded, and the two minstrels
retired amid a volley of plaudits.</p>

<p>“That was perfectly charming,” said Grace De
Vere, enthusiastically. “What a nice looking boy
that Paul Parton is! He looked perfectly lovely in
his velvet suit.”</p>

<p>The boy to whom this was addressed was Mark
Sterling, and it may well be believed that it was far
from pleasing him.</p>

<p>“Are you falling in love with him?” he asked, with
a sneer.</p>

<p>“I do believe I am!” answered Grace. “Don’t tell
him, though!”</p>

<p>“I am not likely to. The fellow is conceited
enough already.”</p>

<p>“Now, Mark, you are too bad. To me he seems
remarkably modest.”</p>

<p>“He ought to have more sense than to push himself
forward so, being only a telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“I don’t care what he is; he is very nice and very
good looking.”</p>

<p>“I suppose you admire his singing, too?”</p>

<p>“Yes, he has a sweet voice.”</p>

<p>“That’s a matter of opinion.”</p>

<p>“I do believe you’re jealous of him, Mark. You
don’t like it because Jennie didn’t ask you to take
the part.”</p>

<p>This was really true, for Mark fancied himself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
singer, though his voice was thin and shrill. Had he
taken Paul’s part the effect would have been ludicrous,
but, of course, he had no idea of this.</p>

<p>It so happened that he knew the three songs which
had been sung, and he was very much annoyed to
have been passed over in what was the pronounced
success of the evening, and to see a mere telegraph
boy selected instead of him.</p>

<p>“Jealous of a telegraph boy!” repeated Mark, with
a scornful inflection. “I am not sunk quite so low
as that.”</p>

<p>About eleven o’clock the party broke up. Being a
juvenile party, it was not kept up as late as if it had
been attended by older persons. Paul took his leave
with the rest, feeling that he had enjoyed himself
uncommonly well.</p>

<p>“I must thank you for a pleasant evening, Miss
Jennie,” he said, as he said adieu to his youthful
hostess.</p>

<p>“You did your part towards making it so, Paul.”</p>

<p>“Thank you for the opportunity.”</p>

<p>“Don’t forget to come soon to see us,” said Jennie,
giving her hand to Paul.</p>

<p>Paul bowed his thanks, and left the house with
three or four others in his company. Among them
was Mark Sterling.</p>

<p>“Where do you live?” asked Mark, abruptly.</p>

<p>“Down town,” answered Paul, shortly. He felt
reluctant to say that he lived in Ludlow Street,
although he conjectured rightly that Mark would
have no idea where it was situated.</p>

<p>“I thought, perhaps, you might live on Fifth
Avenue.”</p>

<p>“Not at present; that may come later.”</p>

<p>Mark laughed disdainfully.</p>

<p>“When you give a party, I hope you will do us all
the honor to send an invitation.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>

<p>“Would you accept?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I think I would.”</p>

<p>“I will bear it in mind. Now, let me bid you all
good night.”</p>

<p>Mark was disappointed to find that not one of
his companions would join in his sarcasms against
the telegraph boy. All thought him very agreeable
and very handsome, and Mark was at last obliged to
give up his attack, and lapse into sullenness.</p>

<p>Paul walked to Sixth Avenue, though that was not
the most direct route homewards, and in place of
taking a car, walked slowly down the avenue. It
was a pleasant night, and he felt broad awake, and
by no means fatigued. It seemed to him pleasanter
to walk part of the way at least. As he walked he
fell into serious thought. He had left an
elegant house, crowded with a gay and fashionable
company, and he was going&mdash;where? To a miserable
tenement house, in which he shared a poor and
ill furnished room with a squalid and miserly old
man, in appearance not above a tramp. Certainly
the contrast was a startling one. As he dwelt upon
it, Paul felt more and more disgusted with his home
and surroundings.</p>

<p>“Why can’t I live in a refined house, among refined
people?” he asked himself. “I feel much more
at home with them than with old Jerry. Must I
always live a beggar?”</p>

<p>Paul’s mental answer was an emphatic “No!”
He was young and hopeful. The world was before
him. He was poor, but other poor boys had raised
themselves from poverty as great, and he felt that
there was an equal chance for him.</p>

<p>His reflections were interrupted by the sight of a
tall young man, not far in advance, whose unsteady
gait showed that he was under the influence of liquor.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII_THE_PICKPOCKET" id="CHAPTER_XXIII_THE_PICKPOCKET">CHAPTER XXIII.<br /><span class="titlefont">THE PICKPOCKET.</span></a></h2>


<p>Such a sight as this is by no means uncommon in
a large city, and of course Paul had witnessed it
many times. But for one circumstance, he would
have given the young man a passing glance, and
gone on. But he observed that the young man was
followed. The person following was also a young
man, rather flashily attired, and, as Paul thought, of
suspicious appearance. It seemed to him clear that
he had designs upon the first young man, whose condition
was likely to make him an easy prey to an
unscrupulous acquaintance.</p>

<p>“Where have I seen that man before?” thought
Paul.</p>

<p>He was puzzled for a moment, and then he remembered
that he had strayed one day into a court room,
and seen him as a prisoner at the bar, charged with
picking a pocket.</p>

<p>“That’s what he’s after now,” thought Paul. “I
will prevent him if I can.”</p>

<p>The telegraph boy moderated his pace, so as not to
attract the attention of the man in the rear, but kept
a close watch over him.</p>

<p>Finally the pickpocket came to a sudden resolution,
and quickening his pace came up with the man
he was following.</p>

<p>“Excuse me, my friend,” he said, smoothly, “but I
see you are in need of assistance. Won’t you take
my arm? I’ll take you home, if you wish.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>

<p>“You’re very good,” said the stranger. “I’ve been
drinking more than is good for me, I’m afraid.”</p>

<p>“We all do that sometimes,” said his new acquaintance.
“I’ve been there myself. Where are you
staying?”</p>

<p>“At the Albemarle Hotel. Am I going the right
way? I’ve got turned round, I think.”</p>

<p>“Yes, you are on the right track. I live close by
your hotel myself, so I can go along with you just as
well as not.”</p>

<p>“Thanks; you are really very kind.”</p>

<p>“O, don’t mention it.”</p>

<p>The other made no objection to the pickpocket
passing his arm through his, and the two walked on
together.</p>

<p>“He means to rob him,” thought Paul. “What
can I do to prevent it?”</p>

<p>He didn’t quite like to make an accusation, though
he remembered the thief’s face perfectly, till he had
some ground for warning the intended victim. It
might be that the pickpocket was merely taking the
part of the good Samaritan, though it was by no
means probable.</p>

<p>The two men became sociable, and Paul was near
enough to hear fragments of the conversation. He
gathered that the stranger was from St. Louis&mdash;that
he was visiting New York on a business errand,
representing a firm, of which his father was the head.</p>

<p>The pickpocket, who had been waiting only till he
could gain the stranger’s confidence, now felt that it
was time to be carrying out his plans. With dexterous
fingers he managed to explore the pocket of his
companion, and Paul caught sight, quick as he was,
of his appropriation of his victim’s wallet.</p>

<p>“I shall have to leave you here,” said he, abruptly,
having no further motive for continuing the companionship.
“Good night!”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>

<p>“Good night!” said the stranger. “Sorry to lose
your company!”</p>

<p>Paul was excited, as he might well be, for he saw
that on him alone depended the frustration of the
thief’s plans.</p>

<p>“Stop thief!” he exclaimed, in a loud voice.</p>

<p>The thief looked startled, and turning into Thirty
Seventh Street ran towards Fifth Avenue.</p>

<p>Paul followed in close pursuit.</p>

<p>“Drop that wallet, or it will be worse for you!”
exclaimed the undaunted boy.</p>

<p>Had the night been dark, the thief would have
taken the chances, and retained his booty. But he
was sure to attract attention, and might any minute
run into the arms of a policeman. The risk was too
great.</p>

<p>“There, curse you!” he muttered, throwing down
the wallet. “Now stop following me!”</p>

<p>Paul picked up the pocketbook, and ceased the
pursuit. He had accomplished all he intended, and
was willing to let the thief go free, now that he had
restored his plunder.</p>

<p>He retraced his steps to Sixth Avenue, where he
found the stranger waiting for him.</p>

<p>“Here is your pocketbook,” he said. “You have
had a narrow escape.”</p>

<p>“By Jove! I should think I had,” answered the
young man. “How much money do you think there
is in that wallet?”</p>

<p>“Is it a large sum?” asked Paul, his curiosity
aroused.</p>

<p>“Fifteen hundred dollars&mdash;perhaps a little more.
You’re a brave boy. But for you I should have lost
it.”</p>

<p>“I am very glad to have been of such service,”
said Paul. “If the thief only knew what a purse he
had lost he would feel like murdering me.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>

<p>“What made you suspect him? You must have
sharp eyes.”</p>

<p>“I believe I have,” answered Paul, “but I was
watching him closely as I walked behind. I knew
him to be a pickpocket.”</p>

<p>“How was that?” asked the young man.</p>

<p>“I once saw him in the court room at the Tombs,
being tried for theft. I have not seen him since, but
I recognized him at once. I saw him join you, and I
suspected his motive at once.”</p>

<p>“You saw my condition?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I saw that you were not yourself.”</p>

<p>“I had been making a fool of myself by drinking
too much. I hope you don’t drink?”</p>

<p>“No, sir, never.”</p>

<p>“You are wise. Will you walk with me to my
hotel?”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, where are you staying?”</p>

<p>“At the Albemarle. Do you know where it is?”</p>

<p>“O, yes,” answered Paul, smiling. He felt that he
would hardly have been fit for a telegraph boy if he
had not known the location of a hotel so well known.</p>

<p>“I have been spending the evening with a few
friends who live in an apartment house near the
park. The punch was remarkably good, and I drank
more than was good for me. I suppose you wonder
why I didn’t ride home, instead of walking?”</p>

<p>“It would have been safer, at any rate.”</p>

<p>“I had a headache and thought I might walk it off.
At any rate, I should feel better for being in the open
air. But I found some difficulty in steering straight,
as I dare say you noticed.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, I observed it.”</p>

<p>“Then this fellow came along. He offered to accompany
me home, and I never suspected that he
was a thief. I am afraid you will think me rather
green.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>

<p>“O, no; the man’s appearance might easily deceive
you.”</p>

<p>“It did not deceive you.”</p>

<p>“No, for I had seen him before. But will you
pardon me for saying that you were imprudent in
carrying around so large a sum of money at this late
hour?”</p>

<p>“You are quite right. I was a fool, and I am
willing to admit it.”</p>

<p>It was not long before Paul and his new friend
reached the hotel, which is in the block above the
Fifth Avenue.</p>

<p>“Come upstairs with me,” said the young man.</p>

<p>“If you wish it,” answered Paul.</p>

<p>“I do; I have some business with you, but I won’t
keep you long.”</p>

<p>Paul followed his new acquaintance into a handsomely
furnished chamber on the third floor. He involuntarily
thought of the poor tenement house room
in which he and old Jerry made their home, and he
wondered whether it would ever be his fortune to be
as well lodged as the traveler from Missouri.</p>

<p>“Why not?” asked Paul, hopefully.</p>

<p>“Sit down,” said the stranger, pointing to a chair.
“I won’t keep you long.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV_A_ROOM_AT_THE_ALBEMARLE_HOTEL" id="CHAPTER_XXIV_A_ROOM_AT_THE_ALBEMARLE_HOTEL">CHAPTER XXIV.<br /><span class="titlefont">A ROOM AT THE ALBEMARLE HOTEL.</span></a></h2>


<p>The stranger was tall and well formed. He had
certainly showed moral weakness in yielding to the
fascinations of drink, but he looked like a smart man
of business.</p>

<p>“Wait a minute,” he said, “and I will talk to you.”</p>

<p>He went to a stationary washtub, and bathed his
head freely.</p>

<p>“There,” he said, after he had rubbed his face
vigorously with a towel. “I feel fifty per cent better.
There is nothing like cold water after all.”</p>

<p>“Inside as well as outside,” added Paul, with a
smile.</p>

<p>“That’s where you are right, my boy. Evidently
your head is level. You say you are a telegraph
boy?”</p>

<p>“Yes sir.”</p>

<p>“How do you like it?”</p>

<p>“Fairly well&mdash;for the present.”</p>

<p>“You wouldn’t like to follow it permanently, eh?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; by the time I got to be fifty or sixty, I
might like to change to something else.”</p>

<p>“You might be able to retire on a fortune.”</p>

<p>“It would be a very small one, judging from my
weekly pay.”</p>

<p>“I think myself, unless you are wedded to the business,
you might pass your time more profitably. What
do you think you would like?”</p>

<p>“To enter some business house where I could rise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
step by step as I deserved it,” answered Paul, with
animation.</p>

<p>“You have the right idea. Now let me tell you why
I inquire. In the fall my father will establish a
branch house here, with myself at the head of it. I
don’t mind telling you that if I had lost the money I
have with me, it is doubtful whether he would have
trusted me so far. Now, thanks to your prompt assistance,
I have been spared the natural result of my
folly, and my father will never know the risk I have
run. So you see that you have rendered me an important
service.”</p>

<p>“I am sincerely glad of it, sir.”</p>

<p>“I mean that you shall be, and on your account.
If I establish myself here, I shall want a young assistant
on whose intelligence and fidelity I can rely.
Do you know any such person?”</p>

<p>“I hope you mean me,” said Paul eagerly. “It is
just the opening I have been looking for, for a long
time.”</p>

<p>“I do mean you. Have you a father or mother?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; unhappily not.”</p>

<p>“Have you no one belonging to you, then?” asked
the young man with a look of sympathy.</p>

<p>“No, sir, I can’t say that I have. I live with an old
man who is not related to me. It is better than being
alone.”</p>

<p>“Doesn’t he rely upon you to contribute to his support?”</p>

<p>“He does, but he need not. He is a miser and has
money deposited in the Bowery Savings Bank, and
elsewhere, I expect. I think he has enough to carry
him through to the end of his life.”</p>

<p>“If he is a miser you probably don’t live very luxuriously.”</p>

<p>“We live in a poor room in an east side tenement
house, sir,” answered Paul.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>

<p>“You are not contented with that, I take it.”</p>

<p>“No, sir; when I compare it with the place where I
spent this evening, it makes me mortified and
ashamed.”</p>

<p>“You were at a party, you said?”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, in a fine brown stone mansion up town.”</p>

<p>“Isn’t it a little unusual for a telegraph boy living
in a tenement house to be invited to a fashionable
party?”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir, but these are very kind friends of mine,
who overlook my poor social position, and notice me
as much as if I lived in a house as good as their own.”</p>

<p>“I think they must be uncommon people, but I approve
them for all that. ‘A man’s a man for a’ that,’
as Robert Burns says in his poem. That is, it makes
no difference whether he is rich or poor, whether he
lives in a palace or a hovel, if there is good stuff in
him, he deserves honor.”</p>

<p>“I would like to see the whole poem,” said Paul.
“I think Burns is right.”</p>

<p>“So do I, but I must not forget that it is late, and
I am keeping you from your bed. I have not told you
my name yet.”</p>

<p>“No, sir.”</p>

<p>“It is Eliot Wade. The firm name is William O.
Wade &amp; Co., of St Louis. We have a wholesale clothing
house, and propose to establish a similar one in
New York. Now, when this arrangement is effected,
how can I communicate with you?”</p>

<p>“If you will write to Paul Parton, A. D. T., No. &mdash;&mdash; Broadway,
I shall receive the letter. If I leave the
telegraph service before, I will tell them where to
send any letter which is received.”</p>

<p>“And in case both fail, you will be sure to learn
our place from the advertising columns of the newspapers.
In that case, call and inquire for me.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, sir. I will be sure to do so.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>

<p>“You will be likely to find it to your advantage.”</p>

<p>Paul, concluding that there was nothing more to be
said, rose to go.</p>

<p>“Good night, Mr. Wade,” he said. “I consider
myself lucky in having met you.”</p>

<p>“I can return the compliment. But I have not yet
got through with you.”</p>

<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Paul, resuming his seat.</p>

<p>“You don’t suppose I would send you away without
an immediate acknowledgment of the service you
have done me tonight?”</p>

<p>“The future employment which you promised me
I consider a very valuable acknowledgment.”</p>

<p>“That will, I hope, prove so, but there is nothing
like a bird in the hand.”</p>

<p>As Eliot Wade spoke, he produced the wallet which
had been saved to him by the intrepidity and presence
of mind of Paul, and drew therefrom a bank note,
which he tendered to Number 91.</p>

<p>“Accept that with my thanks added,” he said.</p>

<p>Paul looked at the bill and his face expressed the
amazement he felt.</p>

<p><em>It was a hundred dollar bill!</em></p>

<p>“You don’t mean to give me so much as this, Mr.
Wade,” he ejaculated.</p>

<p>“Why not?” asked the young man, with a smile.</p>

<p>“It is a good deal too much.”</p>

<p>“On the other hand, it is about fifty dollars too
little. Ten per cent on the sum saved would be one
hundred and fifty dollars, and it is worth that. However,
I will reserve that for a future occasion. Consider
me fifty dollars in your debt.”</p>

<p>“You are very liberal,” said Paul earnestly, “and
I heartily thank you. You can imagine that a hundred
dollars is a large sum to a poor telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“Now,” said the young man, smiling, “let me give
you a piece of advice, suggested by my own experience.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
Don’t drop into any drinking saloon on your
way home, or you may fall into the hands of a sharper,
as I did.”</p>

<p>“I will remember your caution, sir,” said Paul,
smiling.</p>

<p>“It may be safer for you to ride home, as the hour
is late.”</p>

<p>“I will do so, sir. Good night and thank you.”</p>

<p>“It seems to me that you are born under a lucky
star, No. 91,” said Paul to himself. “In a single
evening I have received a sum of money equal to half
a year’s wages. If old Jerry only knew it, I should
not dare to fall asleep in the same room with him.”</p>

<p>He took the green car whose terminus was the
Grand Street Ferry, and in less than half an hour he
reached the door of his humble lodging.</p>

<p>He went upstairs and entered the bed chamber&mdash;which
contrasted so strongly with the handsomely
furnished hotel room which he had just left. He expected
to find old Jerry fast asleep, but he was mistaken.
The old man was lying on his poor bed in a
cramped position, his eyes open, moaning piteously.</p>

<p>“What is the matter, Jerry?” he asked, approaching
the bed.</p>

<p>“I am sick, Paul,” said the old man. “I&mdash;I am
feeling very miserable! Do you think I am going
to die?”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV_OLD_JERRYS_WEALTH" id="CHAPTER_XXV_OLD_JERRYS_WEALTH">CHAPTER XXV.<br /><span class="titlefont">OLD JERRY’S WEALTH.</span></a></h2>


<p>Old Jerry certainly did look weak and miserable.
His face seemed thinner and paler than usual; his
thin gray hair looked quite disordered, and there
were dark rings around his eyes.</p>

<p>“You look sick,” answered Paul, pityingly.</p>

<p>“Do you think I am going to die?” asked the old
man, tremulously.</p>

<p>“Oh, no, not yet awhile,” answered Paul, in a
cheering voice. “But you must have a doctor.”</p>

<p>“No, no; I can’t afford it,” said Jerry, in alarm.
“Doctors charge so much. They&mdash;they seem to
think a man is made of money.”</p>

<p>“Would you rather die,” Paul exclaimed, impatiently,
“than pay for a doctor’s attendance? What
good will your money do you if you die?”</p>

<p>“You&mdash;you might ask the druggist for some
medicine to help me. That would be much cheaper.”</p>

<p>“That won’t do you; you need a doctor. If you
don’t have one, you may die before morning.”</p>

<p>Jerry was thoroughly frightened now. He made
no further resistance, and Paul summoned a doctor
having an office on Grand Street.</p>

<p>When he saw Jerry, and felt his pulse, he looked
grave.</p>

<p>“I think he is going to have a low fever,” he said.</p>

<p>“Is it catching?” asked Mrs. Hogan, nervously,
for Paul had waked her up, and asked her to come
in.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>

<p>The doctor smiled.</p>

<p>“O, no,” he said. “Don’t be alarmed. Pardon me
for asking,” he said, turning to Paul, “but does your
grandfather&mdash;I suppose he is your grandfather&mdash;eat
regularly and sufficiently?”</p>

<p>“I am afraid not, sir.”</p>

<p>“He has lowered his system, I should judge, by
lack of nourishing food, and at present his vitality is
very low.”</p>

<p>“I can easily believe it, doctor,” said Paul. “I
will speak to you on the subject later. Do you think
he is going to have a fever?”</p>

<p>“Yes, a low fever, as I said&mdash;the revenge of outraged
nature for a violation of her rules.”</p>

<p>“Am I going to die?” asked Jerry, his parchment
skin assuming a greenish hue. “I&mdash;I want to live;
I am not ready to die.”</p>

<p>“That depends on whether you follow my rules.”</p>

<p>“I will if&mdash;if you don’t make me spend too much
money; I am poor&mdash;miserably poor.”</p>

<p>“I will see that your rules are followed, doctor,”
said Paul, finding it hard to hide the disgust he felt
at this characteristic manifestation of the old man’s
miserly disposition.</p>

<p>“I see you are a sensible boy,” said the doctor, approvingly.
“Perhaps I had better speak to you
privately.”</p>

<p>“Very well, doctor. As we have no other room,
will you step into the entry?”</p>

<p>The doctor followed Paul out.</p>

<p>“Before you give your instructions,” said the telegraph
boy, “I want to say that Jerry&mdash;he is not my
grandfather&mdash;is a miser, and has deliberately deprived
himself of the necessaries of life.”</p>

<p>“Has he money?”</p>

<p>“He has enough, I am sure, to pay what is needful,
but it will be hard to get him to spend it.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>

<p>“He must have nourishing food, and stimulating
medicines, or he cannot recover. His life is at
stake.”</p>

<p>“Will he need a nurse?”</p>

<p>“I suppose you can’t attend to him?”</p>

<p>“No; I prefer to attend to my regular business,
and hire some one.”</p>

<p>“Then do so, for the old man will require some
weeks, at least, to recover from the low point to which
he has brought himself.”</p>

<p>“I think I can get Mrs. Hogan to take care of him.
You may give her your directions.”</p>

<p>First, however, Paul made the proposal to the good
woman. “I’ll see that you are paid,” he said. “If I
can’t get the money out of Jerry, I will pay it myself.”</p>

<p>“But, Paul, dear, I wouldn’t want to take the little
you have. You’ve no more than enough for yourself.”</p>

<p>“I will show you something, Mrs. Hogan, if you
won’t let Jerry know.”</p>

<p>“Shure I won’t.”</p>

<p>Paul produced the hundred dollar bill, and filled
the soul of Mrs. Hogan with amazement.</p>

<p>“Where did you get it?” she asked, in wonder.</p>

<p>“It was given me by a gentleman whom I saved
from being robbed of a good deal more,” he answered.
“You see, Mrs. Hogan, I am not so poor as
you suppose. I will pay you seven dollars a week, if
that will satisfy you, for your care of Jerry, but I will
try to get him to repay me the money, for his life
depends on what we are able to do for him.”</p>

<p>The doctor, upon Mrs. Hogan’s acceptance of the
office of nurse, gave her instructions. To begin
with, though late, he directed that some tea and oatmeal
should be prepared and administered to his
patient to reinforce his failing strength.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>

<p>It was nearly one o’clock when Paul threw himself
down on the lounge with his clothes on, and fell into
a sound sleep.</p>

<p>Old Jerry did not immediately improve. His
strength was so far reduced that it required time to
rebuild his enfeebled constitution. Mrs. Hogan
proved a good nurse. Indeed, in her younger days
she had acted in that capacity, and was not ignorant
of the duties.</p>

<p>When Paul came home the next evening, he found
the nurse waiting to speak to him.</p>

<p>“The doctor says Jerry must be undressed, and not
lay with his clothes on,” she said, “but old Jerry is
so obstinate that he won’t agree to it.”</p>

<p>“Jerry, you will feel a great deal better to take off
your clothes,” said Paul, in a tone of expostulation.</p>

<p>“No, no!” objected Jerry, in a terrified tone.</p>

<p>“And why not?” asked Mrs. Hogan. “Shure, the
doctor knows what’s best for you.”</p>

<p>But Jerry obstinately refused.</p>

<p>“It’s a quare frake the old man has, not to be undressed
like a good Christian,” observed Mrs. Hogan.</p>

<p>“I think I know his objection,” said Paul. “We
won’t trouble him just now.”</p>

<p>The next day at noon Paul called at the house,
having a few minutes to spare. Mrs. Hogan met him
with a smile of triumph.</p>

<p>“We’ve took off his clothes,” she said, “and I’ve
put a night gown on him, and he’s lying as peaceful
as can be.”</p>

<p>“Didn’t he refuse?” asked Paul, in surprise.</p>

<p>“No, and a good reason why. He was out of his
head, and so I asked Mr. McQuade, downstairs, to
come up and help me. And niver a word the old man
spoke, but seemed dazed like.”</p>

<p>“Where are his clothes?” inquired Paul, eagerly.</p>

<p>“Shure there they are!” said the nurse, pointing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
to a pile of wretched garments on a chair near the
bedside.</p>

<p>“I’ll stay here ten minutes, Mrs. Hogan,” said Paul,
“and give you a chance to go to your room.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, Paul. I’ll go and make a bit of tay
for the old man.”</p>

<p>Paul locked the door after her, and eagerly took
up the shabby old suit which had been worn for
years by old Jerry. He instituted a careful search,
and found himself richly rewarded. In one pocket
he found a bank book on the Bowery Savings Bank.
His eyes opened with amazement when he found
nearly three thousand dollars set down to the old
man’s credit. There was another book, marked the
Union Dime Savings Bank, a bank in the upper part
of the city. On this book deposits were entered to
the amount of eight hundred and ninety dollars.
Feeling something stiff behind the lining of the coat,
Paul hastily ripped it open, and found a certificate of
one hundred shares of Erie, then selling at forty
eight dollars per share. This appeared to be all, except
a few dollars in money.</p>

<p>“It is my duty to take care of them,” reflected
Paul. “Mrs. Hogan is no doubt honest, but others
might enter the chamber who would not scruple to
rob the old man. I will take care of them, and deposit
them in a safe place.”</p>

<p>He made a hasty calculation, and found that the
two savings bank books contained deposits amounting
to three thousand eight hundred dollars. The
value of the Erie stock he afterwards ascertained to
be four thousand eight hundred, making in all eight
thousand six hundred dollars.</p>

<p>“How strange that a man with so much money
should be willing to live so miserably!” he thought.
“Probably he has shortened his life by this means.”</p>

<p>At this point Mrs. Hogan reentered the room.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>

<p>Paul had replaced the clothes on the chair, and
she did not observe that they had been touched.</p>

<p>“Is there anything you want, Mrs. Hogan?” asked
Paul. “If so, I can leave some money with you.”</p>

<p>“I might, maybe, need to send Mike out to the
druggist.”</p>

<p>“Here’s a dollar, then.”</p>

<p>“Shure, Paul, you’re very kind to the old craythur,
though he’s no kin to you.”</p>

<p>“Oh, I expect to be paid back some time.”</p>

<p>“I’m sure you will. We’ll try to keep life in the
craythur, though it’s little he enjoys it.”</p>

<p>“Perhaps he enjoys it as much in his way as you
or I.”</p>

<p>“Shure it’s little I’d enjoy if I lived like him.”</p>

<p>“I agree with you, Mrs. Hogan. But I must be
going.”</p>

<p>About three o’clock there was a knock at Mrs.
Hogan’s door. A woman of thirty presented herself.</p>

<p>“Shure, and it’s I that am glad to see you, Mrs.
Barclay,” said the hospitable widow. “I haven’t set
eyes on you since you went over to live in Jersey
City.”</p>

<p>“No, I don’t often get over here. Today I had to
bring clothes to a customer, and thought I’d come
and see you.”</p>

<p>The visitor was Ellen Barclay, whom a strange
chance&mdash;or was it Providence?&mdash;had brought unwittingly
to the poor home of her husband’s father.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI_ELLEN_BARCLAYS_DISCOVERY" id="CHAPTER_XXVI_ELLEN_BARCLAYS_DISCOVERY">CHAPTER XXVI.<br /><span class="titlefont">ELLEN BARCLAY’S DISCOVERY.</span></a></h2>


<p>Mrs. Barclay had only experienced a feeling of
relief when her husband failed to return to her.
She had grown accustomed to taking care of herself
and the children without him, and his presence
seemed likely only to impose upon her an additional
burden. Though she earned her living in a humble
way, she was fairly educated, and could sew neatly,
but a brief trial with the needle satisfied her that it
would be quite impossible to obtain the comforts of
life for three persons in that way. So she had mastered
her pride, and entered the lists as a laundress.</p>

<p>“And how are the children, Mrs. Barclay?” asked
Mrs. Hogan.</p>

<p>“They are both well, thank God.”</p>

<p>“And do you never hear anything of their father?”</p>

<p>Mrs. Barclay’s face clouded.</p>

<p>“Yes,” she answered, “he came home a few days
since, but only stayed one day.”</p>

<p>“Didn’t he bring you any money then?”</p>

<p>“No; he borrowed some from me.”</p>

<p>“It’s a shame, so it is, in a great, strapping man
like him to leave you to work for the poor children.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Hogan had never seen Mr. Barclay, or she
would have recognized him in the man whom she
helped drive away from his father’s room, and was
utterly ignorant of the relationship between him and
the old man whom she was nursing.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>

<p>“I don’t know but it’s wrong,” said Ellen, “but I
believe I should be happy if I thought he would
never come again. He has only brought me trouble,
and I dread his influence upon the children; we are
better off without him. But how are you getting
along yourself, Mrs. Hogan?”</p>

<p>“I’ve no cause to complain,” answered the Irish
widow. “I’m well, and Mike and I pick up a living.
Just now I’m taking care of a sick man in the room
across the entry. It’s an ould man&mdash;a kind of miser
he is, I surmise&mdash;and his name is the same as your
own, Mrs. Barclay.”</p>

<p>The name of Barclay is not an uncommon one, but
this statement seemed to produce a strong impression
on Mrs. Hogan’s visitor.</p>

<p>“An old man named Barclay?” she repeated.</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“How old, should you think?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know, but he’s all dried up, and wrinkled.
He may be siventy.”</p>

<p>“May I see him?” asked the visitor, eagerly.</p>

<p>“Shure you may go in with me when I give him
his medicine.”</p>

<p>Ellen Barclay followed Mrs. Hogan into the opposite
room, and looked with strange interest at the
wan, emaciated old man stretched out on the bed.</p>

<p>“I’ve brought your medicine for you, Jerry,” said
Mrs. Hogan, soothingly.</p>

<p>“Jerry!” exclaimed the younger woman. “Is his
name Jerry?”</p>

<p>“Shure it is; and what thin?”</p>

<p>“My husband’s father was named Jeremiah. This
may be he.”</p>

<p>“Have you niver seen him?” asked Mrs. Hogan, in
surprise.</p>

<p>“Never; I did not know he was living till my husband’s
recent visit. Then he spoke of his father’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
being a miser, and his expecting to get some money
from him.”</p>

<p>“Well, well; if I ever heard the like! As like as
not old Jerry is your father in law. I’ll soon see.”</p>

<p>“Jerry, do you want to see your own son?” she
asked, bending over, and addressing her patient.</p>

<p>An expression of alarm overspread the old man’s
face.</p>

<p>“Don’t let him come in! Keep him away!” he exclaimed.</p>

<p>“Are you afraid of your own son, thin?” asked the
nurse.</p>

<p>“He is a bad man; he tried to rob me,” said the
old man, looking about him fearfully.</p>

<p>“I do believe it’s that man I threw the bilin’ water
on!” exclaimed Mrs. Hogan, in surprise. “What’s
your husband’s appearance, Mrs. Barclay?”</p>

<p>“He is tall and thick set, and his hair is inclined
to be red.”</p>

<p>“Has he a scar on his right cheek?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“That’s the same man I drove away last week, wid
the bilin’ water. He was trying to hurt old Jerry,
wasn’t he, Jerry?”</p>

<p>“Yes, yes,” muttered the old man. “He’s a bad
man, and he wanted to take away all my money, and
I’m so poor.”</p>

<p>“Is he so poor?” asked Mrs. Barclay.</p>

<p>“No, it’s only his fancy. He’s what you call a
miser; that’s what Paul says.”</p>

<p>“Where is Paul? Paul is a good boy!” murmured
Jerry, half unconscious, but his attention arrested by
the familiar name.</p>

<p>“Yes, he is a good boy,” repeated Mrs. Hogan.
“It’s he that engaged me to take care of Jerry, when
he was took sick, and he tould me he’d see that I was
paid.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>

<p>“How long has this boy been with him? I remember
now Mr. Barclay mentioned a telegraph boy. He
didn’t seem to like him. I should like to see the boy;
perhaps he could tell me something of the old man,
and help me to decide whether he is really my husband’s
father. On what day did James call here?”</p>

<p>Mrs. Hogan told her.</p>

<p>“It was the day after he left me. You say he got
no money?”</p>

<p>“No; but he would if I hadn’t come in.”</p>

<p>“It is strange he has not been here since.”</p>

<p>“No, it isn’t, Mrs. Barclay; he was took in by a
policeman, and I expect he’s on the Island.”</p>

<p>Ellen Barclay breathed a sigh of relief. Had her
husband been the man he should have been, such
news would have brought sorrow and distress. Now
she regarded it as an augury of peace. While he was
in confinement he would not be able to molest her.</p>

<p>“When can I see this boy, Paul?” she asked.</p>

<p>“Paul is generally at home some part of the evening,
though he’s liable to come in at odd times.”</p>

<p>“I will try to come over tomorrow evening, if you
think he will be at home.”</p>

<p>“It would be a good thing for you if the ould man
has money, as Paul thinks,” said Mrs. Hogan, in a low
voice.</p>

<p>“Not if my husband were free,” said Ellen Barclay.</p>

<p>“Thrue for you! He came near murderin’
the ould man. But there’s a dale of virtue in hot
water,” added Mrs. Hogan, with a laugh. “He
made a mistake when he tackled Bridget Hogan, I
can tell him that, now.”</p>

<p>“I shall have to go now, Mrs. Hogan. I left the
children alone.”</p>

<p>“Not without a cup of tay. I’m just goin’ to
make some for the ould man, and you’re welcome
to a cup.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>

<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Hogan. I know of old that
your tea is good.”</p>

<p>“It is that same, if I say so myself.”</p>

<p>“One thing I can’t understand,” said Ellen Barclay,
thoughtfully. “You say the telegraph boy
pays you for taking care of this old man?”</p>

<p>“Yes, he does.”</p>

<p>“But where does he get the money? Telegraph
boys are not usually paid a big salary.”</p>

<p>“That’s thrue; but Paul is such a favorite he
gets many presents. He’s an honest boy, and it’s
my hope my boy Mike will grow up just loike him.”</p>

<p>“I will see him for myself tomorrow evening. If
Jerry, as you call him, is really my father in law, I
ought to know it. He seems a very different man
from my husband. I can’t see any resemblance between
them.”</p>

<p>“That’s not strange, neither. Pat Hogan’s father
was a little, dried up shrimp of a man like ould
Jerry here, and Pat was five tin, or tin feet five, in
his stockings I disremember which.”</p>

<p>“I think it must be five feet ten,” said Ellen Barclay,
with a smile.</p>

<p>“No doubt you’re right, ma’am. But just come
round tomorrow evenin’ and see Paul, and then, maybe,
you’ll find out all you want to know.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII_JERRY_DISCOVERS_HIS_LOSS" id="CHAPTER_XXVII_JERRY_DISCOVERS_HIS_LOSS">CHAPTER XXVII.<br /><span class="titlefont">JERRY DISCOVERS HIS LOSS.</span></a></h2>


<p>It was not until late in the afternoon that Jerry
regained sufficient command of his faculties to
observe that his clothes had been removed.</p>

<p>He uttered a cry of alarm which brought Mrs.
Hogan into the room.</p>

<p>She found the old man struggling to rise in bed,
but without success, so great was his weakness.</p>

<p>“Don’t try to get up, Jerry!” she said, soothingly.
“Lie still, there’s a good man!”</p>

<p>“Bring me my clothes!” gasped Jerry.</p>

<p>“And what for do you want your clothes?” asked
Mrs. Hogan, supposing that he wished to dress.
“Shure the doctor said you must have them taken
off. It would be better for you.”</p>

<p>“Bring them to me&mdash;quick!” gasped the old man
once more.</p>

<p>“Shure, and what will you do with them?”</p>

<p>“Never mind, woman! Bring them to me, or I’ll
have you arrested for robbing me.”</p>

<p>“O, that’s it, is it?” retorted the nurse, bridling.
“If I couldn’t find anything to stale better’n them,
I’d remain honest to the end of my life.”</p>

<p>“If you won’t bring them here, I’ll get up myself.”</p>

<p>“Take the clothes, thin,” said Mrs. Hogan, lifting
them gingerly, as though afraid of contamination.
“Shure, I wouldn’t give two cents for the lot of ’em.”</p>

<p>She little knew why Jerry valued them, and what a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
quantity of wealth had been concealed in the soiled
garments.</p>

<p>With trembling fingers, and features working with
agitation, Jerry took the clothes, and began to feel
for his treasures. Alas for the old man! His worst
fears were realized. The bank books and certificate
of stock had been removed. Not a trace of them was
to be found. The poor man, for he was to be pitied,
uttered a sharp cry of anguish. The clothes dropped
from his nerveless hands, and he fell back on the bed
as if stricken with a mortal wound.</p>

<p>“Help! Help! Police!” he ejaculated. “I’ve been
robbed.”</p>

<p>“Robbed is it?” inquired Mrs. Hogan, puzzled.
“And of what have you been robbed, ould man?”</p>

<p>“There were two savings bank books in the
pockets. You’ve taken them!”</p>

<p>“Well, well, if I ever heard the loike!” exclaimed
Mrs. Hogan, indignantly. “So you call me a thafe,
do you?”</p>

<p>“Give them back to me!” said the old man, imploringly.
“I&mdash;I am so poor. It will kill me if I lose
my money.”</p>

<p>“Two savings bank books, indade!” said Mrs.
Hogan. “It’s my belafe you’re an ould humbug, you
that have always called yourself so poor. And how
much money was there in them?” she asked.</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I&mdash;no matter. Give me the books, or I’ll send
for the police.”</p>

<p>“Go and welcome, this minute, if you please. You
ought to know better than to call an honest woman a
thafe.”</p>

<p>“Somebody has taken the books,” wailed Jerry.</p>

<p>“Very likely Paul’s taken care of them for you.
He was here alone with the clothes.”</p>

<p>“Where is Paul?” demanded Jerry, with peevish
eagerness.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>

<p>“He’s at his work, but I’m expecting him back
every minute. If he has taken the books, they are
all right. Paul’s an honest boy, and a fine boy.”</p>

<p>“Do you think he would rob me, Mrs. Hogan?”
asked Jerry, piteously.</p>

<p>“It’s a shame to be askin’ such a question,” said
Mrs. Hogan. “Shure you know Paul wouldn’t demane
himself by such an act. But here he is to
answer for himself.”</p>

<p>She heard Paul’s step on the stairs, as he came up
whistling. Directly afterwards he entered the room.</p>

<p>“What’s the matter?” he asked, looking from one
to the other.</p>

<p>“The ould man’s in a great taking about bein’
robbed, Paul,” answered Mrs. Hogan. “He says some
savings bank books have been taken from his
clothes.”</p>

<p>“Where are they, Paul?” wailed the old man.</p>

<p>“They are safe, Jerry. I took them from your
pockets, and the railroad shares, too, and have left
them with a Safe Deposit Company, for safe keeping.”</p>

<p>“Are you sure they are safe, Paul?”</p>

<p>“Yes, much safer than they would be here. Of
course Mrs. Hogan is honest, but other persons might
come into the room.”</p>

<p>“Bring them back to me, Paul. I want to see
them.”</p>

<p>“I can if you insist upon it, Jerry. But you are
too sick to look after them. Besides, suppose your
son should come in some day. He could rob you
easily, and you would never see your property again.
Shall I show you the receipt for them?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>Paul drew from his pocket the receipt given him
by the Safe Deposit Company, and displayed it to the
old man.</p>

<p>“Let me keep this?” said Jerry.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>

<p>“Yes, if you like.”</p>

<p>This seemed to satisfy him, and he clutched the
paper with a deep sigh of relief.</p>

<p>“Shure, and you’ve calmed him down, Paul,” said
Mrs. Hogan. “Was it really true about the books?”</p>

<p>“It was really true, Mrs. Hogan. He has a good
deal of money, though he doesn’t look it.”</p>

<p>“Thin it’s a fool he is to live as he does, whin he
might live like a gintleman.”</p>

<p>“He will never live differently. When he dies it
will go to his son, who will get through with it in
short order.”</p>

<p>Then Mrs. Hogan told Paul about the visit of Ellen
Barclay, and her discovering a relation in old Jerry.</p>

<p>“I wish she might have some of the money.
Shure, she nades it with her young children.”</p>

<p>“I would much rather she would have it than his
son, who is a ruffian and a burglar.”</p>

<p>“And you’ll help her to it, if you can, Paul?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I will. I don’t want Jerry’s money myself.
I am young, and my prospects are good. All I want
is that it should go into the right hands.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII_JERRY_FINDS_A_NEW_RELATION" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII_JERRY_FINDS_A_NEW_RELATION">CHAPTER XXVIII.<br /><span class="titlefont">JERRY FINDS A NEW RELATION.</span></a></h2>


<p>Ellen Barclay came over the next evening according
to appointment, and had an interview with Paul.
She had at first been disposed to look upon him with
suspicion, as likely to divert Jerry’s money from his
legal heirs, but the interview dispelled all such ideas.
The telegraph boy was so frank and free spoken, and
showed such an interest in helping her, that she was
strongly impressed in his favor. He even told her
the particulars of his first encounter with her husband,
and in what manner he had defeated his plan
of gaining possession of Mr. Cunningham’s money.</p>

<p>“Yes,” said Ellen, bitterly, “he is a husband to be
proud of.”</p>

<p>“Has he always been as bad?” asked Paul.</p>

<p>“Yes; I had not been married to him a month before
I found out that I was wedded to a criminal.
He treated me brutally, and I only breathed freely
when he was away from home. Within a year from
the wedding day, he was condemned to a year’s imprisonment,
and at least half the time since he has
been in confinement.”</p>

<p>“Leaving you to support yourself, I suppose?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I have had to support myself and the children.
Even when he was a free man, he did little or
nothing for the family.”</p>

<p>“How did you support yourself?” asked Paul.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>

<p>“At first I undertook to maintain myself by the
needle, but the miserable pittance I received showed
me that I must try some other means of support. On
inquiry I found that nothing paid as well as fine
laundry work for ladies. It was a trial to my pride,
for I was well brought up and educated, to take in
washing for a living, but I would rather do that than
see my children suffer. So I stifled my pride and
became a laundress. I was fortunate in securing
customers, and I have wanted for nothing, neither
have my children&mdash;nothing at least that was necessary
to comfort. But when my husband came home
lately, and proposed to put upon me the additional
burden of his support, I became discouraged.”</p>

<p>“I hope better days are in store for you,” said
Paul.</p>

<p>“Not while my husband lives, and can find me
out,” said Ellen Barclay, sadly.</p>

<p>“Do you wish me to introduce you to your husband’s
father?”</p>

<p>“Do you think it will be best?”</p>

<p>“We had better try the experiment at any rate.
He may die, and if he does his money ought to go to
you.”</p>

<p>“It would be a great relief to me if my children
would be provided for.”</p>

<p>“Follow me, then.”</p>

<p>Following Paul, Ellen Barclay went into the chamber
occupied by old Jerry.</p>

<p>The old man looked up, noticing Paul only.</p>

<p>“Do you think I will get well, Paul?” he asked.</p>

<p>“Yes, Jerry, if you receive proper care, and have
nourishing food.”</p>

<p>“But&mdash;I am so poor, Paul.”</p>

<p>“That is a mistake, Jerry, as you and I know.”</p>

<p>“Don’t let any one know of the few dollars I have,
Paul.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>

<p>“I won’t let your son know; he is the only one of
whom you need be afraid. Did you know he was
married, and had two children?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I think he said something of it.”</p>

<p>“Would you like to see his wife?”</p>

<p>“I&mdash;I don’t know,” answered the old man, in an
uncertain voice.</p>

<p>“This lady is your son’s wife,” said Paul, beckoning
Ellen to come forward.</p>

<p>The old man regarded her with an uneasy look.
“I hope you are not like James,” he said; “he is a
bold, bad man!”</p>

<p>“No one knows that better than I, Mr. Barclay. It
was a sad day when I married him.”</p>

<p>“You have found him out, too?”</p>

<p>“Yes, to my sorrow.”</p>

<p>“You won’t try to get my money?” asked Jerry,
anxiously.</p>

<p>“No, but I should like to bring my children here
to see their grandfather.”</p>

<p>“Are they&mdash;like him?”</p>

<p>“No, thank Heaven!”</p>

<p>“Then you may bring them.”</p>

<p>“I will. Can I do anything for you?”</p>

<p>“No, except to keep James away.”</p>

<p>“You have made a good impression on him,” said
Paul, when they had left the room together.</p>

<p>“Thanks to you,” said Ellen, earnestly. “You are
a good boy, and an unselfish one. Hereafter I shall
trust you fully.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX_A_NEW_COMMISSION" id="CHAPTER_XXIX_A_NEW_COMMISSION">CHAPTER XXIX.<br /><span class="titlefont">A NEW COMMISSION.</span></a></h2>


<p>“If Number 91 is unemployed, send him to No. 75,
Windsor Hotel, at eleven o’clock.”</p>

<p>This message came to the telegraph office at which
Paul was enrolled.</p>

<p>The superintendent called him to the desk.</p>

<p>“Here is a call for you, Number 91,” he said. “It
comes from a lady, Mrs. Louisa Holbrook. Do you
know her?”</p>

<p>“No, sir.”</p>

<p>“Are you familiar with the name?”</p>

<p>“No, sir; I never heard it before.”</p>

<p>“She has evidently heard of you. It is now ten
o’clock. At half past ten you may start for the
Windsor Hotel. If you arrive there before eleven,
you may wait till the hour, and then report at the
room indicated.”</p>

<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

<p>Paul arrived at the Windsor Hotel at ten minutes
before the hour. This magnificent hostelry is situated
on Fifth Avenue, and occupies the entire block between
Forty Sixth and Forty Seventh Streets. It is
built of brick, and has an air of quiet elegance which
makes it a favorite with ladies and others who like to
be spared the noise and bustle which attend other
prominent hotels in the city. On the corner just
above stands the luxurious home of Jay Gould, the
railroad king. A few blocks above is the great Catholic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
Cathedral, destined one day to rank among the
famous churches of the world. Still further up, on
the opposite side, are the stately houses occupied by
the Vanderbilt family. These things, however, did
not occur to Paul, for he was too familiar with the
leading buildings on the avenue to give them a
special thought, further than to reflect, “The men
who occupy these fine houses were once poor boys&mdash;many
of them. I wonder whether it will ever be my
fortune to live as handsomely!”</p>

<p>It was only a thought, not seriously entertained.
Paul wanted to rise, but an active, healthy boy seldom
thinks of luxury, or craves it. That comes later,
after he has attained manhood.</p>

<p>Paul entered the hotel, and, going up to the office,
expressed a wish to see Mrs. Louisa Holbrook.</p>

<p>“Were you sent for?” asked the clerk.</p>

<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

<p>“Then you may go up at once. Here”&mdash;to a bell
boy&mdash;“show this boy up to No. 75, Mrs. Holbrook’s
room.”</p>

<p>Though the room was only on the second floor,
Paul followed the bell boy into the elevator. At the
second landing he got out, and followed the hotel attendant
to the door of a room fronting on the
avenue. The bell boy knocked, and a voice said,
“Come in!”</p>

<p>“It is a telegraph boy, ma’am,” said the servant.</p>

<p>“He may come in, and you can go.”</p>

<p>Paul entered the room&mdash;a large and handsome one&mdash;and
found himself in presence of a lady not much
over thirty years of age, with a pleasant face and
manner.</p>

<p>“You are Number 91?” she asked.</p>

<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>

<p>“I suppose you are surprised that I should have
sent specially for you,” the lady said, with a smile.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>

<p>“I wondered how you came to hear of me,” said
Paul.</p>

<p>“That is easily explained. I am a cousin of Mr.
Cunningham.”</p>

<p>Paul’s face brightened. It was pleasant to serve
any one connected with a family from which he had
received so much kindness.</p>

<p>“That explains it,” he said; “all the family have
treated me very kindly.”</p>

<p>“I assure you that you stand very high in their
estimation,” said Mrs. Holbrook, smiling once more.
“My young cousin Jennie was here yesterday, and
on learning the nature of my business urged me to
send for you.”</p>

<p>“I am very much obliged to Miss Jennie,” said
Paul with genuine pleasure, for though too young to
be in love, he liked Jennie Cunningham better than
any girl he had ever seen.</p>

<p>“It is time I explained the errand on which I propose
to employ you,” said Mrs. Holbrook. “You
must know, then, that I have an old aunt living at
the village of Rockville, in Connecticut. She is advanced
in years, and possessed of large wealth. She
has a comfortable home, and prefers to keep house
rather than live with any of her relatives. She does
not live alone, however. She employs a housekeeper,
a Mrs. Mercer, whose son, a young man of twenty
five, also finds employment on the place. This
woman, I have reason to think, is an artful person,
who, knowing my aunt to be wealthy, has ingratiated
herself with her, and is evidently scheming for her
property, or at any rate a handsome share of it. If
it were any person who had a rightful claim, I think
I may say for myself and my cousins that we would
not interfere in the matter, as we are all moderately
rich. But we decidedly object to our aunt’s falling
into the hands of an artful adventurer like this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
housekeeper. You are wondering, no doubt, how all
this concerns you. I will come to that. Mrs. Cunningham
tells me you are a sharp, shrewd boy, and I
propose to send you down as a confidential messenger,
to look about you, judge of the progress the
housekeeper has made in her designs, and, if you see
anything wrong, apprise us, or, if there is any chance,
open my aunt’s eyes to the real character of the persons
she has trusted.”</p>

<p>Paul listened to Mrs. Holbrook’s statement with
attention. Some difficulties, however, presented
themselves to his mind.</p>

<p>“Unless I am in the house,” he said, “I shall find
it difficult to carry out your instructions.”</p>

<p>“You will be in the house. I shall give you a letter
to my aunt, saying that you are a boy in whom I
am interested, and that I am anxious to have you
pass a few weeks in the country. Can you drive a
horse?”</p>

<p>“There is nothing I like better,” answered Paul,
promptly.</p>

<p>“Can you take care of a horse?”</p>

<p>“Yes, indeed.”</p>

<p>“How did you acquire this knowledge in the
city?”</p>

<p>“Not far from where I live is a stable, kept by
a man whom I know well; I have been in there a
good deal, and helped him when he needed it. Sometimes
I would drive out for him.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Holbrook nodded approvingly. “I am glad
to hear it,” she said. “My aunt is fond of riding,
and has a horse and carriage. She can make you
useful in that way, and also as her secretary if she
needs any one to write for her, or read to her. I
suppose you are equal to such duties?”</p>

<p>“Yes, ma’am. I am not to go as a telegraph boy, I
presume?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>

<p>“No; have you another suit?”</p>

<p>“Yes, but I am afraid it is not good enough.”</p>

<p>“Then I will fit you out. I may as well write a
letter first to my aunt, and then I will see about
proper clothes for you. I think I will go to Brokaw
Brothers. Can you go with me at once?”</p>

<p>Paul answered in the affirmative.</p>

<p>“What is your name?”</p>

<p>“Paul Parton.”</p>

<p>“A very good name. That will do quite nicely.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Holbrook sat down at the desk, and wrote the
following letter:</p>

<blockquote>

<p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear Aunt</span>:</p>

<p>“I am taking a liberty in sending you a boy in whom I am
interested, with the request that you will give him a home for a
few weeks, if he should be contented. I know you have a large
house and plenty of room. I think a young companion will
help enliven the house. Paul Parton (that is his name) will be
happy to be of service to you in any way. He understands
horses, and will drive you out any time, harness and unharness,
read to you or write for you, should you require it. I ask you
to receive him as a guest, for my sake, but to make him useful.</p>

<p>“I hope, my dear aunt, you are in comfortable health, and in
a condition to enjoy life, notwithstanding your advanced years.</p>

<p class="marginrightindent">
<span style="padding-right:4em">“Your affectionate niece,</span><br />
“<span class="smcap">Louisa Holbrook</span>.”
</p></blockquote>

<p>“There,” said Mrs. Holbrook, after reading the
letter to Paul, “I think this will secure you an entrance
into my aunt’s house, and should it be read
by the housekeeper, as is likely to be the case, it will
tell her nothing. Now we will go out and see about
getting you a supply of clothes.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX_PAULS_RECEPTION_AT_ROCKVILLE" id="CHAPTER_XXX_PAULS_RECEPTION_AT_ROCKVILLE">CHAPTER XXX.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL’S RECEPTION AT ROCKVILLE.</span></a></h2>


<p>Paul found himself unable to start for Rockville
in the afternoon. He was obliged to make arrangements
at home for an indefinite absence, and procure
from the savings bank a supply of money for current
expenses, which he left in the hands of Mrs. Hogan.
His outfit was provided by Mrs. Holbrook, who made
it as ample as if Paul were the son of a well to do
family, instead of a telegraph boy, dependent upon
his own exertions for a scanty living in a shabby
tenement house.</p>

<p>When his new patroness parted from him, she put
a pocketbook into his hands.</p>

<p>“This is not intended for remuneration,” she said,
“for I shall pay the telegraph company their usual
charges. But I wish you to have money to use, as
you may require it.”</p>

<p>“Thank you,” said Paul. “You are very kind.”</p>

<p>“No, I am only considerate and just.”</p>

<p>“Have you any special directions to give, Mrs.
Holbrook?”</p>

<p>“None beyond what I have already given. I must
trust greatly to your own good judgment and discretion.
I am sure I can do so with confidence, after
the good report Mr. Cunningham has made of you.”</p>

<p>“Thank you; I will try to deserve your confidence.”</p>

<p>“You may write to me from time to time, when you
have anything to communicate.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>

<p>Paul promised to do so, and at nine o’clock took a
train at the Grand Central Depot for Rockville.</p>

<p>Fairly seated in the cars, he opened the pocketbook
given him by Mrs. Holbrook.</p>

<p>It contained three five dollar bills, and five dollars
more in small notes.</p>

<p>“Mrs. Holbrook is very liberal,” he reflected, complacently.
“It will be a pleasure to be in her
service. I am fortunate in finding such good
friends.”</p>

<p>Paul was fortunate, but his good fortune was
deserved. He always tried to do his duty, was always
courteous and obliging, and not afraid to work.
Such boys generally find friends. If any of my
readers think they are badly treated by their employers,
and are poorly provided with friends, let
them consider whether they have taken pains to
deserve them.</p>

<p>Paul had never traveled, and two hours’ ride on
the cars from New York to Rockville, on a pleasant,
sunny morning, interested him very much.</p>

<p>He knew very little of the country, having spent
most of his time in the lower part of the city. He
began to think the world was more beautiful than
he imagined.</p>

<p>Finally, the cars came to a stop; the conductor
called out “Rockville!” and Paul, with curious anticipation,
stepped from the cars upon the platform.</p>

<p>There was the usual crowd around the depot. On
the platform stood a man with a whip in his hand,
evidently a driver.</p>

<p>“Carriage for the hotel, or any part of the village!”
he called out.</p>

<p>Paul stepped up to him and inquired: “Can you
tell me how far from here Mrs. Granville lives?”</p>

<p>“The widder Granville?” queried the driver.</p>

<p>“I suppose so. She is an old lady.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>

<p>“Just so. Well, she lives about a mile away, on
the Plainfield Road.”</p>

<p>“Can you take me there?”</p>

<p>“Well, as you ain’t over and above hefty, I guess
the horses can manage it,” added the driver, humorously.
“Just hop on. We’ll be starting directly.”</p>

<p>Paul got on the front seat with the driver, feeling
disposed to a social chat with that personage. There
was but one other passenger, a lady, who was bound
for the hotel.</p>

<p>“Are you going to visit the widder?” asked the
knight of the whip.</p>

<p>“I am expecting to stay at her house a little
while.”</p>

<p>“I suppose you know her?”</p>

<p>“No, I have never seen her. I bring a letter from
her niece in New York, Mrs. Louisa Holbrook.”</p>

<p>“I’ve heard tell of her. She was down here a week
last summer. I guess she and the housekeeper
couldn’t hitch hosses.”</p>

<p>“Mrs. Mercer is the housekeeper, I believe,” said
Paul.</p>

<p>“Folks call her the housekeeper. I call her the
boss,” said the driver. “She’s got the old lady under
her thumb, if all accounts are true.”</p>

<p>“Is she agreeable?”</p>

<p>Amos, the driver, emitted a short laugh. “Wait
till you see her,” he said, significantly.</p>

<p>“Do you think Mrs. Granville stands in dread of
her?” asked Paul, rather anxiously.</p>

<p>He was beginning to think his task might be a
hard one.</p>

<p>“No; the old lady is easy goin’, that is all. If
she ever got roused she’d turn out to have a will of
her own, or I’m greatly mistaken. Bless your soul,
Mrs. Mercer wouldn’t dare to go too far, for she
wants the old lady to leave her a good slice of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
property. But she gets round her in an underhand
way. For instance, if her son wants to go off anywhere,
and it isn’t convenient for him to drive the old
lady out, Mrs. Mercer persuades her that she isn’t
looking well, or that the wind is cold and raw, and
she’d better stay at home. I shouldn’t be surprised
if she’d get the old lady to make a will in her favor.”</p>

<p>“I wonder what sort of a reception the housekeeper
will give me,” said Paul, thoughtfully.</p>

<p>“Very likely she will not be over glad to see you,
especially when she knows you’re a friend of Mrs.
Holbrook. That lady saw through the housekeeper’s
little schemes, and did what she could to put a spoke
in her wheel&mdash;that’s why she hates her.”</p>

<p>“Well, all I can do is to hope for the best.”</p>

<p>“Be yer expectin’ to stay long?” asked Amos,
curiously.</p>

<p>“That depends on whether the housekeeper will
let me, from what you tell me.”</p>

<p>“You’ll find it dreadful dull.”</p>

<p>“Perhaps so, but I’m going to offer to drive out
Mrs. Granville, and I’m willing to take care of the
horse or horses, if she wants me to.”</p>

<p>“Frost will like that, for he’s lazy, and will be glad
to get rid of the work.”</p>

<p>“I suppose Frost is the housekeeper’s son.”</p>

<p>“Yes, that’s the one I mean.”</p>

<p>“What sort of a fellow is he?”</p>

<p>“Good enough for those who like him,” answered
Amos, dryly. “I don’t.”</p>

<p>“Does he resemble his mother?”</p>

<p>“He’s a chip of the old block, but not half so
smart. His mother thinks him an angel, and what
she wants the old lady’s property for is not so much
for herself as for her son.”</p>

<p>“You think I won’t find him a pleasant companion,
then?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>

<p>“I know you won’t.”</p>

<p>“Then I hope I shall like Mrs. Granville.”</p>

<p>“She’s a good old lady and awful rich. The only
weak thing about her is her trusting the housekeeper.”</p>

<p>“I should think she would prefer to have some
relative with her.”</p>

<p>“She won’t get any to stay with her till she discharges
Mrs. Mercer. The housekeeper makes herself
as disagreeable as possible to any relation, because
she’s afraid they will get an influence over the
old lady’s mind and interfere with her.”</p>

<p>“Perhaps she may think the same of me.”</p>

<p>“Like as not. You can tell better in a few days.
But there’s the house, the big white one on a little
hill to the left.”</p>

<p>“It is a very nice one.”</p>

<p>“Oh, yes, it’s a good house. Why shouldn’t it be?
The old lady’s got plenty of money.”</p>

<p>“Have you any idea how much?”</p>

<p>“It’s risin’ a hundred thousand dollars, I heard
Squire Taylor say once. Squire Taylor is her lawyer,
and he’s likely to know.”</p>

<p>“No wonder the housekeeper has designs upon it.”</p>

<p>“Just so&mdash;I shouldn’t mind if the old lady would
leave me a slice. You might put in a good word for
me&mdash;Amos Drake&mdash;when you get acquainted.”</p>

<p>“I’ll think of it,” answered Paul with a smile. “I
owe you something for all the information you’ve
given me.”</p>

<p>“That’s all right. You seem a good sort of chap,
and you’re welcome.”</p>

<p>Amos drew up in front of the house, and reined in
the horses; while Paul descended from the carriage.</p>

<p>“How much is the fare?” asked Number 91.</p>

<p>“Twenty cents.”</p>

<p>“That’s near enough,” said Paul, handing him a
quarter.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>

<p>“You’re a gentleman,” said Amos. “Now I’ll have
a cigar when I get back to the hotel.” Paul walked
up the path to the front door of the mansion and
rang the bell.</p>

<p>In about a minute the door opened, and he found
himself confronting a tall, grim looking woman with
thin face and figure, and iron gray hair.</p>

<p>“Who are you, and what is your business?” she demanded
in a chilly tone. Paul had no doubt in his
own mind that it was the housekeeper.</p>

<p>“My name is Paul Parton, from New York, and I
have a letter for Mrs. Granville.”</p>

<p>“You can give me the letter.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, but I would prefer to give it to Mrs.
Granville&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Humph! Are you one of her relations?”</p>

<p>“No, but I come from Mrs. Holbrook, her niece.”</p>

<p>“Oh,” said the housekeeper, grimly. “Well, I don’t
think you can see Mrs. Granville; she’s got a headache,
and can’t be disturbed.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI_A_DEFEAT_FOR_THE_HOUSEKEEPER" id="CHAPTER_XXXI_A_DEFEAT_FOR_THE_HOUSEKEEPER">CHAPTER XXXI.<br /><span class="titlefont">A DEFEAT FOR THE HOUSEKEEPER.</span></a></h2>


<p>The housekeeper held the door half way open, and
evidently meant to prevent Paul from entering. If
he had been less determined, or more easily abashed,
he would have given up his purpose. But Number
91 had a will of his own.</p>

<p>“I don’t accept a dismissal from you, madam,” he
said, eying Mrs. Mercer with a steady glance. “I
demand to see Mrs. Granville.”</p>

<p>“Hoity toity! Who are you, I’d like to know?”
demanded the housekeeper, amazed and exasperated.</p>

<p>“A visitor to Mrs. Granville,” answered Paul;
“you, I suppose, are a servant.”</p>

<p>“Do you dare to call me a servant, you impudent
boy?” answered Mrs. Mercer, raising her voice.</p>

<p>“What are you, then?” asked Paul, calmly.</p>

<p>“I am Mrs. Mercer, the housekeeper, I’d have you
to know.”</p>

<p>“So I suppose, and Mrs. Granville is your employer.
By what right do you dare to send away her
visitors?”</p>

<p>Mrs. Mercer was quite unused to being defied so
boldly, and she could hardly express her indignation.</p>

<p>“Well, I never heard of such impudence!” she ejaculated.</p>

<p>In her anger she would have closed the door, but
just at that moment a voice was heard from the floor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
above&mdash;the voice of Mrs. Granville, who had been attracted
by the housekeeper’s loud tones.</p>

<p>“What is all this, Mrs. Mercer?” she asked, in a
tone of authority.</p>

<p>“It’s a boy who wants to force his way in, ma’am,”
said Mrs. Mercer, in a sulky tone.</p>

<p>“What boy is it?” asked her mistress.</p>

<p>Paul answered this question himself.</p>

<p>“I come from New York with a letter from your
niece, Mrs. Holbrook,” he said.</p>

<p>“Then come in at once,” said the old lady, in an
imperative tone. “Why did you not admit him at
once?”</p>

<p>“I didn’t know,” answered the housekeeper, confused.</p>

<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Paul, “I told you this,
and you said Mrs. Granville had a headache, and
would not see me.”</p>

<p>“What do you mean by this misrepresentation,
Mrs. Mercer?” demanded the old lady, sternly.</p>

<p>“I offered to take the letter up to you,” said Mrs.
Mercer, a little alarmed at the evident anger of her
mistress.</p>

<p>“When Mrs. Granville reads the letter she will
understand why I preferred to hand it to her myself.”</p>

<p>“Why did you say I had a headache? Why do
you presume to send away my visitors, Mrs. Mercer?”
demanded the old lady, thoroughly aroused.</p>

<p>“I meant it for the best,” said the woman, sulkily.</p>

<p>“Never presume so far again. Now, young man,
come up and let me see you.”</p>

<p>Paul passed the discomfited housekeeper, and, going
upstairs, followed the old lady into a pleasant
sitting room.</p>

<p>“I am sorry to have been the means of disturbing
you,” said Paul, politely. “Mrs. Holbrook sends you
this letter, and wishes me to give you her love.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>

<p>“You are a nice looking boy,” said the old lady,
letting her glance rest approvingly on Number 91.
“I hope Louisa is well.”</p>

<p>“Very well, thank you.”</p>

<p>She put on her glasses, and read the letter.</p>

<p>“So you are Paul Parton,” she said, as she folded
up the letter.</p>

<p>“Yes, madam.”</p>

<p>“A New York boy?”</p>

<p>“Yes, madam.”</p>

<p>“I am afraid you will find it dull here.”</p>

<p>“O no, Mrs. Granville, I am sure I shall like the
country, for a while at least.”</p>

<p>“Do you know how to drive?”</p>

<p>“Oh, yes; I am used to horses.”</p>

<p>“On the whole, I am glad Louisa sent you down
here. Frost Mercer, who usually drives me, has been
getting lazy of late, and makes excuses when I want
to go out.”</p>

<p>“I won’t do that, Mrs. Granville. I shall be only
too glad to go.”</p>

<p>“You are sure you won’t upset me?”</p>

<p>“I don’t believe I shall,” answered Paul, smiling.
“I don’t care about being upset myself.”</p>

<p>“I think, on the whole, I shall like to have a boy
about,” said the old lady, thoughtfully.</p>

<p>“I am afraid Mrs. Mercer might object to me.”</p>

<p>“I am the mistress of the house. Mrs. Mercer is
only the housekeeper,” said the old lady, with an
unwonted assumption of dignity. “Please ring the
bell, Paul.”</p>

<p>Paul did so.</p>

<p>Presently the housekeeper entered in answer to the
summons. She looked askance at Paul.</p>

<p>“Mrs. Mercer,” said her mistress, “you will prepare
a room for this young gentleman. He will remain
here, for the present.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>

<p>Mrs. Mercer looked disagreeably surprised.</p>

<p>“Perhaps you had better read this letter from my
niece, Mrs. Holbrook, as it will save explanations.”</p>

<p>The housekeeper read the letter, and her thin lips
tightened with displeasure.</p>

<p>“There is no need of your getting a boy to drive
you around, ma’am,” she said. “My son is perfectly
able to do it.”</p>

<p>“Your son is very apt to be engaged when I want
to drive out,” returned the old lady, dryly.</p>

<p>“I will see that it don’t happen again,” said the
housekeeper, anxious to keep Paul out of the house.</p>

<p>“There is no occasion for that. Mind, I don’t
blame your son. Paul here will have nothing else to
do, and can drive me as well as not. Besides, he will
read to me, and spare my eyes.”</p>

<p>“Frost would be willing to read to you.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Granville smiled.</p>

<p>“I don’t think reading aloud is one of your son’s
accomplishments,” she said. “His voice is not exactly
musical.”</p>

<p>This was certainly true, for Frost Mercer had a
voice deep and croaking, like a frog’s.</p>

<p>“I am sorry you are so prejudiced against my poor
boy,” said Mrs. Mercer, mortified and displeased.</p>

<p>“You are a foolish woman, Mrs. Mercer. I am
only going to make it easier for Frost, and give this
young gentleman something to do. Paul, you may
go with Mrs. Mercer, and take possession of your
room. Go where you please, till half past twelve, our
dinner hour. After dinner, I may take a drive.”</p>

<p>“You’d better get your life insured, then, ma’am,”
muttered Mrs. Mercer. “Boys ain’t to be trusted
with horses.”</p>

<p>“Is your horse very lively or skittish?” asked Paul.</p>

<p>“No,” answered Mrs. Granville. “He is very gentle
and tractable.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>

<p>“Then I don’t think there is any need of insuring
your life, Mrs. Granville.”</p>

<p>“<em>I</em> wouldn’t ride out with you,” said the housekeeper,
spitefully.</p>

<p>“Perhaps you will think better of me after a while,
Mrs. Mercer,” said Paul, good naturedly.</p>

<p>The housekeeper closed her lips firmly and shook
her head.</p>

<p>“I’ve made one enemy, that’s clear,” said Paul to
himself&mdash;“probably two, for the housekeeper’s son
isn’t likely to be my friend.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Mercer led the way to a small room on the
next floor.</p>

<p>“You can go in there,” she said, ungraciously.</p>

<p>“Thank you,” said Paul.</p>

<p>It occurred to him to wonder why so small a room
should be assigned him, while there seemed to be
plenty of larger ones. In the arrangement of the
room, however, there was nothing to be desired.
Everything was neat and comfortable. To Paul, accustomed
to a shabby tenement house, it seemed luxurious,
and he was disposed to enjoy it for the time,
be it long or short.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII_FROST_MERCER_IS_CONTRARY" id="CHAPTER_XXXII_FROST_MERCER_IS_CONTRARY">CHAPTER XXXII.<br /><span class="titlefont">FROST MERCER IS CONTRARY.</span></a></h2>


<p>Mrs. Mercer, the housekeeper, was seriously annoyed
by the appearance of Paul upon the scene.
For years she and her son had had charge of Mrs.
Granville’s affairs, and they had taken care to turn
the charge to profitable account. The wages which
each received formed only a part of this advantage.
They bought everything for the house, and levied
tribute from every tradesman as a compensation
for turning the trade in his direction. The result
was that Mrs. Granville, without being aware of it,
paid a larger price than any one else for what
articles she purchased, the storekeepers and others
compensating themselves in this way for the percentage
they had to pay the housekeeper and her
son.</p>

<p>It is for this reason that Mrs. Mercer never cared
to have any visitor in the house. She feared her
dishonesty might be found out. She was especially
afraid of any one sent by Mrs. Holbrook, who during
her stay had been bold enough to interfere with the
housekeeper.</p>

<p>When she had ushered Paul into his chamber, she
went out to the barn, where she found her son, not
at work, but sitting on an old rocking chair which he
had carried out for his convenience, smoking.</p>

<p>“Well, mother, what’s up?” he asked, on Mrs.
Mercer’s entrance.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>

<p>“We have got a visitor,” answered his mother,
abruptly.</p>

<p>“We?”</p>

<p>“Well, Mrs. Granville.”</p>

<p>“Who is it&mdash;the Holbrook woman?” queried Frost,
taking his pipe from his mouth.</p>

<p>“No, but it’s some one she sent.”</p>

<p>“Man, woman, or child?”</p>

<p>“It’s a boy&mdash;about sixteen, he looks.”</p>

<p>“What on earth should she send a boy for?” asked
Frost, in surprise.</p>

<p>“To make mischief, I reckon.”</p>

<p>“What can a boy do?”</p>

<p>“I read the woman’s letter. She sends him to take
your place.”</p>

<p>“What?” exclaimed Frost, in some alarm.</p>

<p>“Why, she hints that he can drive out the old
lady, read to her, and make himself generally useful.”</p>

<p>“That will make it lighter for me,” said Frost, who
was lazy, “if he does the driving.”</p>

<p>“Yes, but don’t you see what a chance he will have
to work himself into the confidence of the old
woman?”</p>

<p>“What sort of a boy does he seem to be?”</p>

<p>“I’ve only seen him five minutes, but I’ve found
out that he is impudent. When I didn’t want to let
him in, he actually defied me&mdash;asked by what right I
sent away Mrs. Granville’s visitors.”</p>

<p>“So he is inclined to make trouble, is he?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“Suppose I give him a thrashing?”</p>

<p>“It won’t do, Frost.”</p>

<p>“You think I am not a match for a boy of sixteen?”</p>

<p>“No, not that; but we must not be imprudent.
Better get rid of him by underhand means.”</p>

<p>“Such as what?”</p>

<p>“I don’t know yet; I will consider. Meantime I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
thought I would come out and put you on your
guard.”</p>

<p>“All right, mother. I guess we can checkmate the
young meddler. Is he in the house?”</p>

<p>“Yes; I’ve put him in the small room.”</p>

<p>“Next to mine?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“All right; I’ll look him over at dinner time.”</p>

<p>In this, however, Frost counted without his host.
Mrs. Granville was accustomed to have her meals
brought up to her own room. Today she expressed
the wish that Paul should dine with her. This displeased
the housekeeper.</p>

<p>“I suppose Frost and I are not good enough company
for the young man,” she said, sulkily.</p>

<p>“My good Mercer, you are much mistaken,” said
Mrs. Granville, soothingly. “I thought he would be
company for me; besides, it will give me a chance to
ask him some questions about Louisa.”</p>

<p>“Very well, ma’am,” said the housekeeper, but she
didn’t look satisfied.</p>

<p>“What do you think, Frost?” she said, as she went
downstairs. “Master Paul&mdash;that’s his name&mdash;is to
dine with the old woman upstairs. I suppose he is
too good to eat with us.”</p>

<p>“I don’t know as I care much, mother; I don’t
want his company.”</p>

<p>“Nor I, for the matter of that, but it’s putting this
young popinjay over our heads. They’ll be getting
thick together, and the boy will be pulling our noses
out of joint.”</p>

<p>“If he does, I’ll pull his out of joint,” muttered
Frost.</p>

<p>“Bide your time, Frost. We’ll put our heads together
and see if we can’t send him packing.”</p>

<p>After dinner Mrs. Granville expressed a desire, as
it was a fine day, to go out for a drive.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>

<p>“I shall be very happy to drive you,” said Paul,
cheerfully.</p>

<p>“You are sure you can drive?” asked the old lady,
anxiously.</p>

<p>“I should smile,” Paul was about to reply, when it
occurred to him that this form of expression did not
sound exactly proper. “I am used to driving,
ma’am,” he said, instead.</p>

<p>“Then about two o’clock you may go out to the
barn and ask Frost to harness up.”</p>

<p>“O, I’ll do that, Mrs. Granville.”</p>

<p>When he went out to the barn, he found Frost
Mercer sitting at his ease, engaged at his favorite
business of smoking a pipe.</p>

<p>“I suppose you are Frost,” he said, with a smile.</p>

<p>“I am Mr. Mercer,” answered Frost, in a forbidding
tone.</p>

<p>“I beg your pardon. I will call you Mr. Mercer,
if you prefer it. I am Paul Parton.”</p>

<p>“I don’t know as that concerns me,” said Frost,
staring at Paul in an unfriendly manner.</p>

<p>“It is just as well you should know my name, as I
am living in the house,” said Paul, independently.
“Mrs. Granville wishes me to drive her out If you
will show me what carriage she uses and so forth, I
will harness up.”</p>

<p>This was, on the whole, satisfactory to Frost, as he
would not have the trouble of harnessing.</p>

<p>“There’s the carriage,” he said, “and there’s the
harness. You can find the horses if you use your
eyes.”</p>

<p>“Thank you; you are very obliging,” said Paul,
with a little touch of sarcasm.</p>

<p>“The old lady doesn’t seem to value her neck,”
observed Frost.</p>

<p>“What makes you think so?”</p>

<p>“In letting you drive her.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>

<p>“O, that’s it. I think I shall bring her back safe.”</p>

<p>“I don’t know about that. You’re a city boy, ain’t
you?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“What chance have you had to learn about horses?”</p>

<p>“I know a little about them.”</p>

<p>“Well, I wash my hands of it. If the team is upset,
Mrs. Granville will have herself to blame for it.”</p>

<p>“I don’t think you need to worry,” said Paul. “I’ll
promise to bring her back safe.”</p>

<p>He set to work to harness the horses. Frost surveyed
him with critical eyes, but he could see no evidence
of ignorance on Paul’s part. He did his work
quickly and skillfully, and then, opening wide the
barn doors, led the horses out. Then he jumped into
the carriage and was about to drive to the house.</p>

<p>“Come back and shut the barn doors!” called out
Frost from his rocking chair.</p>

<p>Paul turned and looked back.</p>

<p>“I don’t think it will do you any harm to do that
yourself,” he said, “if you can spare the time from
smoking.”</p>

<p>“Hey, what’s that?” demanded Frost, angrily.</p>

<p>“I don’t think it will be necessary to repeat it,”
said Paul, coolly; “you heard me.”</p>

<p>“None of yer sass, boy!” said Frost, wrathfully.</p>

<p>Paul did not deign to answer him. He saw that
Frost did not intend to be pleased with anything he
did, and that there was no use in trying to conciliate.</p>

<p>“I hate that boy!” reflected Frost, following Paul
with a venomous expression. “My mother is perfectly
right. He’s a dangerous visitor. We must get rid
of him one way or another.”</p>

<p>Paul drove around to the front of the house and
found Mrs. Granville ready at the door&mdash;with the
housekeeper at her side.</p>

<p>“I do hope you won’t meet with an accident,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
Mrs. Mercer with an air of deep solicitude. “Frost
is ready to drive you. It will be safer.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, my good Mercer, but Paul tells me he
understands driving.”</p>

<p>“I shouldn’t mind if she broke her neck,” muttered
the housekeeper, following the carriage with her
eyes, “if I only knew it was all right now in her
will.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII_A_STARTLING_DISCOVERY" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII_A_STARTLING_DISCOVERY">CHAPTER XXXIII.<br /><span class="titlefont">A STARTLING DISCOVERY.</span></a></h2>


<p>Paul proved a satisfactory driver, and the old
lady’s fears were soon dissipated.</p>

<p>“You drive better than Frost Mercer,” she said in
a tone of satisfaction.</p>

<p>“I am glad to hear you say so, Mrs. Granville,”
said Paul, well pleased.</p>

<p>“Frost nearly upset me one day. I don’t think he
is generally intemperate, but I suspect he had been
drinking something that day.”</p>

<p>“He doesn’t seem to like me,” Paul ventured to
say.</p>

<p>“What makes you think so?”</p>

<p>Hereupon Paul related his reception when he went
to the barn to harness the horses.</p>

<p>Mrs. Granville listened thoughtfully.</p>

<p>“He should not have acted so,” she said; “I presume
he didn’t like the idea of being superseded.”</p>

<p>“Has he been with you a long time?”</p>

<p>“He and his mother have been in my service for a
long time. I think Mrs. Mercer is of a jealous disposition.
She never wishes me to have any one here,
but she is very faithful and loyal.”</p>

<p>“I wonder if that is the case,” thought Paul. The
housekeeper did not seem to him like one who would
be unselfishly devoted to the service of any one.</p>

<p>Several days passed. Every day Mrs. Granville
rode out, sometimes in the forenoon, sometimes in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
the afternoon, and the effect was perceptible in her
improved health and spirits.</p>

<p>“It is fortunate for me that you came here,” she
said one day. “Before you came I rode out only
once or twice a week. It seems to do me great good
to drive every day.”</p>

<p>“Why did you not go out every day, Mrs. Granville?”
asked Paul.</p>

<p>“Frost did not seem to like the trouble of going
out with me,” she answered. “He often sent word
that he was at work, and could not go conveniently.”</p>

<p>Paul wondered whether he was engaged smoking
in the barn. In his guess he came near the truth.</p>

<p>“Besides,” added the old lady, “I did not like to
ride out with him as well as with you.”</p>

<p>Paul thanked her for the compliment.</p>

<p>“I like to talk with you, but Frost was not very
social, and we had very little conversation.”</p>

<p>One afternoon Mrs. Granville asked Paul to drive
round to the grocery store. She wished to get a
supply of a particular kind of cheese which she had
neglected to order through the housekeeper.</p>

<p>It so happened that there were several customers
ahead of her, and she had to wait her turn. These
were being supplied with various articles, and the
old lady could not help overhearing what passed between
them and the storekeeper. One thing in
especial attracted her attention&mdash;the prices that
were charged. They were in every instance below
those charged on the bills handed in to her by Mrs.
Mercer. Mrs. Granville made careful note of these
prices, and on the way home broached the matter to
Paul.</p>

<p>“What does it mean, Paul, do you think?” she
asked.</p>

<p>Paul’s wits had been sharpened by his city experience,
and he rapidly penetrated the secret.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>

<p>“You always buy through Mrs. Mercer, do you
not?” he asked.</p>

<p>“Yes; but what of that?”</p>

<p>“If I answer it may prejudice you against the
housekeeper, and perhaps unjustly.”</p>

<p>“Still it is only right that you should tell me.”</p>

<p>“Can Mrs. Mercer buy wherever she pleases?”</p>

<p>“Yes; I leave the choice of the place to her.”</p>

<p>“Is there another grocer in the village?”</p>

<p>“Yes; there are two.”</p>

<p>“Then I think she charges this grocer a commission
for carrying your trade to him, and he makes up
for it by charging you a higher price.”</p>

<p>“Is that often done?” asked Mrs. Granville, surprised.</p>

<p>“Yes, I feel sure of it. I remember one evening in
the city listening to a conversation between two
coachmen employed in private families. They were
boasting of the amount of their commissions obtained
from blacksmiths, dealers in hay and oats, and so on.”</p>

<p>“But that is dishonest,” said the old lady, indignantly.</p>

<p>“They don’t look upon it in that way,” answered
Paul.</p>

<p>“And do you agree with them?” asked the old
lady, half suspiciously.</p>

<p>“No, I don’t,” answered Paul, promptly. “I think
they ought to be satisfied with their wages.”</p>

<p>“You are right. As for Mrs. Mercer and Frost,
they are paid more than most employers would pay,
for I am rich, and, thank Heaven, not mean.”</p>

<p>“Don’t condemn them without feeling certain,”
said Paul; “I may be wrong in their case.”</p>

<p>“I won’t feel satisfied until I have ferreted the
matter out,” said Mrs. Granville. She was very good
and liberal, but any attempt at imposition made her
very angry.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>

<p>“How will you find out?”</p>

<p>“You will see.”</p>

<p>The old lady relapsed into silence, and was evidently
busy with her thoughts. When she reached
home, she called Paul’s services into requisition.</p>

<p>“Paul,” she said, “open the drawer of my bureau&mdash;the
upper drawer&mdash;and take out a file of bills you
will find in the left hand corner.”</p>

<p>Paul did so.</p>

<p>“They are Mr. Talbot’s bills.”</p>

<p>Mr. Talbot was the grocer whose store she had
left.</p>

<p>“Now we will compare the bills with the prices I
heard being charged to the customers who were being
waited on in the store.”</p>

<p>This she did with Paul’s help.</p>

<p>The result was that she found herself charged two
cents a pound extra on sugar, five cents on butter,
three cents on cheese, five cents each on tea and
coffee, and so on. Besides she found that excessive
quantities of each had been bought, more than three
persons could possibly have consumed. What became
of the surplus, unless it was thrown away, she
could not possibly divine. Of course the housekeeper’s
commission increased with increased sales.
The real explanation, however, was that Mrs. Mercer
had a widowed sister living in the next town. She
often called on Mrs. Mercer, and never went away
without a liberal supply of groceries, taken from the
private stores of Mrs. Granville.</p>

<p>This the old lady did not learn till afterwards.</p>

<p>If Mrs. Mercer had known in what way her mistress
and Paul were engaged, she would have quaked with
apprehension, but of this she had no suspicions.</p>

<p>The next afternoon Mrs. Granville drove over once
more to Mr. Talbot’s store, and asked for a private
interview with him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>

<p>“Certainly, ma’am,” said the unsuspecting grocer,
obsequiously.</p>

<p>“Why is it, Mr. Talbot,” asked the old lady, coming
straight to the point, “that you charge me higher
prices than you do to your other customers?”</p>

<p>“What makes you think I do?” stammered the
grocer.</p>

<p>“I’ll tell you. Yesterday I was present when some
of your customers were buying butter, sugar, and
other articles. I noted the prices, and then went
home and examined my bills. I find you charge me
from two to five cents a pound more than to others.
Tell me frankly why this is, and I may overlook it.”</p>

<p>“I don’t make any more profit out of you than
out of them,” said the grocer.</p>

<p>“But how is this&mdash;you charge me more?”</p>

<p>“The extra charge does not go into my pocket.”</p>

<p>“I suspected as much. Into whose then?”</p>

<p>“If I must tell you, it is Mrs. Mercer’s. It is the
only condition on which she gives me your trade.”</p>

<p>“Thank you; it is right that I should know.”</p>

<p>“Shall you speak to Mrs. Mercer about this when
you get home?” asked Paul, as they were driving
homeward.</p>

<p>“Not immediately. I want to observe her a little
more. It is a shock to find that one to whom I
have been kind for so many years has deceived me so
basely.”</p>

<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Mercer, who was becoming more
and more jealous of Paul, was arranging a scheme to
injure him with Mrs. Granville.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV_A_PLOT_AGAINST_PAUL" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV_A_PLOT_AGAINST_PAUL">CHAPTER XXXIV.<br /><span class="titlefont">A PLOT AGAINST PAUL.</span></a></h2>


<p>The housekeeper and her son had seen, with increasing
alarm, the growing attachment of Mrs.
Granville for Paul.</p>

<p>“Something’s got to be done, Frost,” she said, decidedly.
“That boy is setting the old woman against
us.”</p>

<p>“That’s so, mother; she never wants me to go
with her now. I might as well be out of the house,
so far as any notice of me goes.”</p>

<p>“She’s mighty cool to me, too, Frost. I suspected
how it would be when that boy came into the house.
He’s the artfulest young one I ever knew.”</p>

<p>“The two of us ought to be a match for him,”
grumbled Frost. “I’ll give him a lickin’ if you say
so.”</p>

<p>“It would do no good. She’d only take his part,
and as likely as not send you packing. No, we must
adopt a different course.”</p>

<p>“What shall it be? You’re smarter than I am,
mother. I’ll do whatever you think best.”</p>

<p>“I’ve thought of a plan, Frost,” said Mrs. Mercer,
and she proceeded to communicate it to him.</p>

<p>“That’ll do,” said the son, in a tone of satisfaction.
“We’ve got to give her a bad opinion of her favorite,
and then we’ll get rid of him.”</p>

<p>This conversation took place in Frost’s room one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
evening. This room adjoined Paul’s, and it so happened
that in the upper part of the room there was
a round hole in the partition, made probably for the
entrance of a funnel, which rendered it easy for conversation
to be heard in the adjoining room. Paul
had been spending the evening in Mrs. Mercer’s
room, but was dismissed earlier than usual, and had
retired to his own bed room. So it chanced that he
heard the details of the plot against him.</p>

<p>It did not surprise him much, for he was quite
aware of the housekeeper’s hostility towards him.
He had been on the point of lighting his lamp, but
decided not to do so, and noiselessly prepared for
bed. He felt that forewarned was forearmed, and he
determined to tell Mrs. Granville what he had heard.</p>

<p>This he did the next morning. The old lady listened
attentively.</p>

<p>“I did not believe Mrs. Mercer capable of such
wickedness,” she said. “After all the kindness I have
heaped upon her, too!”</p>

<p>“I suppose she is jealous of me,” suggested Paul.
“For my part, I wish her no harm. I would not
have told you, except to defend myself in advance of
any charges she may make against me.”</p>

<p>“You have done right, Paul,” said the old lady,
kindly. “Mrs. Mercer selfishly wishes to monopolize
all my favors. Whatever I may do for you would
not have interfered with her, if she had behaved
properly. Now she must take the consequences of
her folly.”</p>

<p>Early in the afternoon, Mrs. Granville directed Paul
to bring the carriage round to the door. When they
had driven a quarter of a mile, she said: “You may
drive me to Coleraine, Paul.”</p>

<p>This was an adjoining town, about four miles
away.</p>

<p>Reaching the town, the old lady directed Paul to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
drive her to the office of her lawyer. Finding him
in, she said: “You may take the horse to the stable,
and come back in an hour. I have some business to
attend to.”</p>

<p>“Certainly, ma’am,” said Paul, obediently.</p>

<p>He returned in an hour, but had to wait half an
hour longer. Then the old lady came out, and seemed
unusually cheerful.</p>

<p>“Paul,” she said, “I have been making my will.”</p>

<p>“I thought it might have been made already,” said
our hero.</p>

<p>“So it was, but I have made a new one.”</p>

<p>Paul did not feel called upon to reply.</p>

<p>“I have not forgotten you,” continued Mrs. Granville,
kindly.</p>

<p>“Thank you very much,” said Paul, gratefully.
“I won’t pretend to be sorry, but I hope it will be a
long time before I reap any benefit from it.”</p>

<p>“I am sure of that, Paul,” said the old lady.
“You are not selfish and self seeking like Mrs. Mercer
and Frost. They were handsomely remembered
in my former will, but I had not found them out
then.”</p>

<p>When they reached the house, Mrs. Mercer herself
opened the door. There was a look of blended mystery
and triumph on her face as she admitted them.</p>

<p>“Can I speak with you a minute in private, Mrs.
Granville?” she said with a significant glance in
Paul’s direction.</p>

<p>“Certainly, Mrs. Mercer. Paul, you may go out
and put up the horse.”</p>

<p>“It’s coming,” thought Paul.</p>

<p>“Well, what is it, Mercer?” asked the old lady, as
she led the way into her own chamber.</p>

<p>“It’s about that boy, ma’am.”</p>

<p>“About Paul?”</p>

<p>“Yes, ma’am. I know you think him an angel.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>

<p>“Well, not quite that, Mercer,” smiled Mrs. Granville.</p>

<p>“At any rate, you think a great deal of him.”</p>

<p>“Yes, I do.”</p>

<p>“I never liked him for my part,” continued the
housekeeper, spitefully. “I always distrusted him.
I thought him a snake in the grass.”</p>

<p>“Come, Mercer, that’s rather a heavy indictment
of the poor boy.”</p>

<p>“I can prove all I say, ma’am,” said the housekeeper.
“I thought you were wrong in trusting him.”</p>

<p>“What has he done? Come to the point.”</p>

<p>“You see this, ma’am,” said Mrs. Mercer, producing
a breast pin set with pearls.</p>

<p>“Yes, it is mine.”</p>

<p>“Where do you think I found it?”</p>

<p>“Suppose you tell me.”</p>

<p>“In the boy’s bureau drawer, while you were out.”</p>

<p>“How did you happen to be examining his drawer?”
asked the old lady, sharply.</p>

<p>“Because from things I have noticed I suspected
he meant to rob you. I didn’t expect to find that, I
confess, but I did think I should find something.
This favorite of yours is nothing but a thief.”</p>

<p>“You may call him, Mrs. Mercer. It is only fair
to hear what he has to say for himself.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Mercer needed no second bidding. She hurried
to the stables and found Paul occupied in unharnessing
the horses.</p>

<p>“Frost,” she said, “just finish unharnessing the
horses. Mrs. Granville wants to see this young gentleman.”</p>

<p>Frost obeyed with unwonted alacrity, and Paul
quietly followed the housekeeper into the house. He
was not particularly alarmed, for he had already put
a spoke in the housekeeper’s wheel, though she was
quite unaware of it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>

<p>“Has Mrs. Granville an errand for me to do?” he
asked, suppressing a smile.</p>

<p>“You’ll find out what she wants of you,” returned
the housekeeper, tossing her head. “Young man,
your course is about run!”</p>

<p>“Is it?” asked Paul, innocently.</p>

<p>He followed Mrs. Mercer into Mrs. Granville’s
chamber. The old lady was sitting in her arm chair
by the window.</p>

<p>“I’ve brought him, ma’am,” said Mrs. Mercer.
“Now you can find out for yourself what a viper he
is.”</p>

<p>“Paul,” said the old lady, mildly, “Mrs. Mercer
tells me she found this breast pin in your bureau
drawer. Do you know anything about it?”</p>

<p>“No, ma’am,” answered Paul, not betraying the
slightest confusion.</p>

<p>“Of course he would say so,” remarked the housekeeper.</p>

<p>“Yet, Mrs. Mercer says she found it in your
drawer.”</p>

<p>“What was she doing there?” asked Paul.</p>

<p>“Tracking a thief!” answered Mrs. Mercer, spitefully.</p>

<p>“She charges you with stealing the breast pin from
my room, Paul.”</p>

<p>“Yes, I do; how did it get into your drawer unless
you stole it? Answer me that, Mr. Paul Parton.”</p>

<p>“I suppose you put it there,” returned Paul, calmly.</p>

<p>Mrs. Mercer held up both hands in indignant protest.
“Did you ever hear the likes, ma’am?” she
ejaculated. “He’s a thief, and unfit to stay in your
house.”</p>

<p>“Excuse me, Mrs. Mercer,” said Paul, quite coolly,
“but didn’t you arrange this little plot against me
last evening in conversation with your son?”</p>

<p>“What do you mean?” ejaculated the housekeeper.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p>

<p>“I happened to be in my room, and overheard
you.”</p>

<p>“Do you believe this impudent lie, Mrs. Granville?”
the housekeeper asked, desperately.</p>

<p>“I have reason to believe Paul,” answered the old
lady, “for this breast pin, which you say you found
in Paul’s room during my absence, I distinctly remember
leaving in my own bureau drawer when I
left the house this afternoon.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Mercer was panic stricken. She turned to
leave the room, quite overwhelmed, but Mrs. Granville
called her back.</p>

<p>“Stay, Mrs. Mercer,” she said, “I have something
to say to you.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV_PAUL_RETURNS_TO_NEW_YORK" id="CHAPTER_XXXV_PAUL_RETURNS_TO_NEW_YORK">CHAPTER XXXV.<br /><span class="titlefont">PAUL RETURNS TO NEW YORK.</span></a></h2>


<p>The housekeeper turned at the bidding of her mistress,
and gazed at her in apprehension, waiting for
her to speak.</p>

<p>“I wish to speak to you about another matter,
Mrs. Mercer. I have made a discovery which reflects
seriously upon you.”</p>

<p>“What is it?” asked the housekeeper, nervously.</p>

<p>“Why, it is that for a long time&mdash;I don’t know how
long&mdash;I have been paying Mr. Talbot higher prices
for groceries and other articles than he charges any
one else.”</p>

<p>“I didn’t know it,” answered Mrs. Mercer.</p>

<p>“Do you mean to say that he imposed upon you?”</p>

<p>“That’s just what I do say,” answered the housekeeper,
gaining boldness. “I’ll give him a piece of
my mind.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Granville eyed <a id="Ref_190">her</a> gravely.</p>

<p>“It is too late to impose upon me, Mrs. Mercer,”
she said. “I know why he charged me extra prices.”</p>

<p>“He wanted to make money out of you, I suppose.”</p>

<p>“He or some one else. It is useless to misrepresent.
I know that this extra sum went into your
pocket. Wait,” seeing the housekeeper about to
speak. “I learned his usual prices, and with Paul’s
help I went over the bills for the last three months,
and have discovered how much I have been swindled.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>

<p>“It’s <em>his</em> doings, I’ve no doubt,” said Mrs. Mercer,
bitterly, referring to Paul.</p>

<p>“You are mistaken; though if it were true it would
not help you any. I myself discovered the overcharge,
and simply employed Paul to look over the
bills with me.”</p>

<p>“Talbot lied!” said the housekeeper, desperately.
She could not have expected this denial would benefit
her, but she was reluctant to confess her guilt.</p>

<p>“I believe he tells the truth,” returned her mistress.
“What have you to say?”</p>

<p>“I can’t say anything; it wouldn’t do any good,”
said Mrs. Mercer, sullenly. “You’re so infatuated
with that boy that you won’t do me justice.”</p>

<p>“Let me remind you,” said the old lady with dignity,
“that Paul has nothing whatever to do with
the matter. I think well of him, it is true, and am
even attached to him, but your wrong doing commenced
before he came, and your senseless jealousy
has betrayed you into a disgraceful plot against him.
Of course you and your son cannot remain in my
employment.”</p>

<p>The housekeeper had not anticipated this. It was
a terrible thought that she and Frost must go forth
from the home that had known them so long.</p>

<p>“Forgive me, Mrs. Granville,” she pleaded in great
agitation. “I will give up all the money I have
made out of my purchases on your account&mdash;I will,
indeed&mdash;and more, too, if you insist upon it. Only
let me stay! Think of the years I have been in your
service!”</p>

<p>“You should have thought of that, Mrs. Mercer.
You should have thought of my kindness to you and
your son, and rejected the temptation to rob me as
you have done.”</p>

<p>“I will give it all back&mdash;I told you I would,” said
the housekeeper, with feverish lips.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>

<p>“It’s too late! I have lost confidence in you. You
are not the woman I supposed; for a small gain you
have thrown away a great prospect. You and your
son were down in my will for a handsome sum. This
day I have made a new will.”</p>

<p>“And given your property to that boy, I suppose?”
said the housekeeper in passionate anger.</p>

<p>“I decline to tell you in what way I have disposed
of my money!” returned the old lady with dignity.
“And now for the future. You and your son will
leave me at the end of this week.”</p>

<p>“I will leave this very day!” exclaimed Mrs. Mercer,
angrily.</p>

<p>“You can do as you please, but I should not advise
you to do so. You did not wait for my conclusion.
You will leave at the end of the week, but if you remain
till then, you will not go empty handed. I will
not only let you keep what you have wrongfully
taken, but in acknowledgment of past services, I will
pay you and Frost three months’ wages in advance to
keep you until you find new employment.”</p>

<p>“I will stay,” said the housekeeper, sullenly.</p>

<p>“It will be best.”</p>

<p>“Shall you keep this boy with you?” she could not
help asking, jealously.</p>

<p>“Probably not long. He will wish to go back to
the city.”</p>

<p>This assurance relieved Mrs. Mercer, and almost
reconciled her to her own departure.</p>

<p>At the end of the week, however, Mrs. Granville
closed her house for a time, employing a neighboring
farmer to take care of the land, and went to New
York, under Paul’s escort, to make her niece a visit.
When she parted with Paul, she placed in his hands
a check for one hundred dollars.</p>

<p>“That is for yourself,” she said. “Come and see
me every week. You will not lose your time.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>

<p>When Paul returned to his old home, he found <a id="Ref_193">a</a>
great change in old Jerry. He was better in health,
though still feeble, but his mind seemed more at rest.
Mrs. Hogan was sick, and his daughter in law, Ellen
Barclay, was in attendance upon him. To Paul’s increased
surprise the two children, Jimmy and Mary,
were in the room, and seemed on very good terms
with their grandfather.</p>

<p>“You didn’t expect to see me here, Paul,” said Mrs.
Barclay.</p>

<p>“No, but I am glad to find you here,” said the telegraph
boy, cordially.</p>

<p>“Mrs. Hogan has been sick with a fever, and it
was necessary that some one should take her place.
So I came.”</p>

<p>“But it must be inconvenient for you to come over
from Jersey City every day.”</p>

<p>“I have left Jersey City, and occupy an apartment
upstairs.”</p>

<p>“How does old Jerry&mdash;Mr. Barclay&mdash;look upon
you?”</p>

<p>“We are very good friends. I am more used to
nursing than Mrs. Hogan, and I make him comfortable.”</p>

<p>“I thought he might be prejudiced against you on
account of your husband.”</p>

<p>“He was at first, but we have talked freely about
him, and he finds that I, too, am in fear of him. So
we have made common cause and he trusts me.”</p>

<p>“I am very glad of it,” said, Paul, earnestly. “It
is as it should be; I don’t think Jerry can live long,
and you and your children ought to get the benefit
of his money.”</p>

<p>“You are a good boy, Number 91. I misjudged
you at first. I thought you were plotting for the old
man’s money, and so, I am sure, did my husband.”</p>

<p>“You don’t think so now?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>

<p>“No, I know you better.”</p>

<p>“It is strange,” said Paul, smiling, “but out in the
country, where I have spent the last few weeks, I was
suspected of plotting for the property of an old lady
by whom I was employed. The housekeeper was
very much exercised in mind, and tried to fasten a
charge of theft upon me.”</p>

<p>“I hope she was not believed.”</p>

<p>“No; Mrs. Granville knew me better.”</p>

<p>“I wish the lady you mention would leave you
something, Paul.”</p>

<p>“I don’t trouble myself with such thoughts. I
have good friends, and I am sure that I shall prosper
if I keep my health.”</p>

<p>“No one deserves success better.”</p>

<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Barclay. I value your good
opinion.”</p>

<p>This conversation took place in the entry. Just
then the feeble voice of Jerry was heard, calling
“Ellen.”</p>

<p>His daughter in law hastened to the bedside of the
old man, and attended to his wants. Paul followed
her into the room.</p>

<p>Five minutes later a heavy step was heard on the
stairs, and the door was opened; all turned to see
who was the visitor. The old man uttered a cry of
alarm. His eyes were on the door, and he was the
first to recognize the intruder.</p>

<p>“James!” he cried.</p>

<p>“You’re right, father,” said James Barclay, gruffly;
“I’m glad you welcome me so warmly.”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI_JAMES_BARCLAY_REAPPEARS" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI_JAMES_BARCLAY_REAPPEARS">CHAPTER XXXVI.<br /><span class="titlefont">JAMES BARCLAY REAPPEARS.</span></a></h2>


<p>“Go away! Go away!” ejaculated the old man in
terrified accents.</p>

<p>“Couldn’t think of it, father,” said James, throwing
himself on the sofa and lighting his pipe. “What,
leave you and my wife&mdash;how on earth did you find
the old man out, Ellen? Now all the family’s together,
we’ll live together in peace and happiness.
We’ll never desert the old man, will we, Ellen?”</p>

<p>“I wish you would not smoke here, James. It is
bad for your father, who has a difficulty in breathing.”</p>

<p>“Oho! You take the old man’s part against me, do
you?” said James Barclay, his brow darkening.
“You haven’t seen me for weeks, and you begin to
jaw already.”</p>

<p>“Ask him to go away, Ellen,” said Jerry, feebly.</p>

<p>“Oh, you’re anxious to get rid of me, are you?”
sneered James Barclay. “You would drive me away
from my family, would you? Are you still living in
Jersey City, Ellen?”</p>

<p>“No, I have taken a room here.”</p>

<p>“That’s right. I’ve no objection. What does the
doctor say about the old man? Is he going to die?”</p>

<p>“Hush, James,” said his wife. “How can you be
so inconsiderate?”</p>

<p>“Who says I am going to die?” asked Jerry, terrified.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>

<p>“I hope you will live a good while yet,” said Ellen
Barclay, soothingly. “I will take every care of you.”</p>

<p>“I’m not such an old man,” interrupted Jerry. “I
ought to live a&mdash;a long time.”</p>

<p>“Come, dad, you’re unreasonable,” said James,
coarsely. “You’re seventy, if you’re a day. You
don’t want to live forever, do you?”</p>

<p>“My own son wants me to die,” moaned Jerry.</p>

<p>“Well, you’ve had your share of life. Ain’t you
goin’ to give me a chance?”</p>

<p>“Why will you talk in this way, James?” expostulated
his wife, as the old man gave a cry and buried
his face in the bed clothes.</p>

<p>“How have I been talking? It’s the truth, ain’t
it?”</p>

<p>“You are only making your father worse.”</p>

<p>“Well, if you’re anxious to get rid of me, give me
a few dollars, and I’ll stay away till tomorrow.”</p>

<p>“I have no money of my own, James.”</p>

<p>“Then whose money have you?”</p>

<p>“I have some money that Paul gave me to buy
necessaries for your father.”</p>

<p>“Then give me some.”</p>

<p>“I have only a little of that left. I must ask Paul
for more&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

<p>“Oh, the telegraph boy’s got the money, has he?
Look here, you young rapscallion, I’ll take charge of
the old man’s money. I am his son, and I am the
proper party to do it. So hand over!”</p>

<p>“I have no money of your father’s. I have been advancing
money of my own.”</p>

<p>“That’s too thin. You haven’t got any money of
your own.”</p>

<p>“I don’t care whether you believe it or not. However,
I’ll give you two dollars if you’ll go away now.”</p>

<p>“Hand it over, then. I won’t come back till tomorrow.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>

<p>The old man was in such a nervous condition, that
Paul was glad to obtain even such a brief respite as
this. He drew from his pocket a two dollar bill, and
handed it to James Barclay, who immediately got up
and walked towards the door.</p>

<p>“By, by!” he said, “I’ll be back to-morrow.”</p>

<p>“No, no,” said the old man, “I&mdash;I don’t want to
see you.”</p>

<p>“Now, there’s an affectionate father for you!” said
James Barclay, with a mocking smile. “He don’t
want to see his only son.”</p>

<p>“You haven’t given him much reason to miss you,
James,” said Ellen Barclay, mildly.</p>

<p>“So you turn against me, too, Mrs. Barclay,” said
her husband, with a frown. “A nice wife you are,
upon my word!”</p>

<p>“Shure you’re a jewel of a husband yourself!” interposed
Mrs. Hogan, who had entered during the
conversation.</p>

<p>“And you’re the woman who threw hot water upon
me, you old jade!” retorted James, his face black
with anger. “I’ve a great mind to wring your neck
for you.”</p>

<p>He made a step forward, which alarmed Paul, lest
he might proceed to carry out his threat.</p>

<p>“Oho!” laughed Barclay. “The kid is going to
defend you.”</p>

<p>“And a fine boy he is!” said Mrs. Hogan. “But
don’t you trouble yourself, Number 91. I’m a match
for the ould brute any time.”</p>

<p>Mrs. Hogan, standing with her arms akimbo,
looked thoroughly fearless and undaunted. She was
a powerful woman, and, though James Barclay was
of course her superior in physical force, he would not
have found her an unresisting victim.</p>

<p>“Why don’t he go away?” was heard in a wailing
voice from the bed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>

<p>“He is going directly,” answered Ellen Barclay, in
a soothing voice.</p>

<p>James Barclay’s brow contracted.</p>

<p>“So you’re sowing mischief between my father and
me, my lady!” he said. “Well, it’s just what I expected.
But don’t you forget one thing! I’m the
rightful heir of that old ninny on the bed there, and
if anybody tries to cut me out, he’ll find I’ve got
something to say about it.”</p>

<p>“That’s a pretty way to talk of your father&mdash;as an
ould ninny,” said Mrs. Hogan, indignantly.</p>

<p>“Never you mind! It’s none of your business. I
suppose you’re looking for a slice of the property
yourself.”</p>

<p>“No, I’m not Mr. James Barclay. I’m an honest
woman, and can earn my own living.”</p>

<p>“I’m glad to hear it. But I’m not so sure of the
telegraph boy. He’s been living on the old man all
his life, and he means to be provided for when he
dies.”</p>

<p>“I don’t know what your father would have done
without him,” said Mrs. Hogan. “He’s worked for
old Jerry ever since he was six years old&mdash;when his
own flesh and blood deserted him. Isn’t it so, Jerry?”</p>

<p>“Yes, Paul is a good boy,” responded Jerry, feebly.</p>

<p>“Oh, no doubt; he’s an angel,” sneered James
Barclay. “I say, Number 91, as you seem to have
my father’s money, I’ll just mention that I shall want
ten dollars tomorrow.”</p>

<p>“I have no money of your father’s, Mr. Barclay,
and I shall not be able to advance you the money
myself.”</p>

<p>“Well, it’s got to come from some quarter,” said
Barclay; “whether he gives it to me, or you, I don’t
care, as long as I have it.”</p>

<p>“You ought to earn your own living&mdash;you’re big
and strong enough,” said Mrs. Hogan, with spirit.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>

<p>“Thank you; you’re a fine woman,” said James
Barclay, mockingly. “If Mrs. Barclay would only
be obliging enough to leave me a widower, I might
take you for my second wife.”</p>

<p>“And leave me to support you!” retorted Mrs.
Hogan. “Thank you for nothing. I’d rather be a
widow all the days of my life than to marry you.”</p>

<p>James Barclay laughed.</p>

<p>“And yet some people think me good looking,” he
said.</p>

<p>“Then they must be blind; however, it isn’t the
way you look, it’s the way you behave that sets me
aginst you.”</p>

<p>“That’s a pity; for your sake, my sweet Mrs.
Hogan, I might be tempted to turn over a new leaf.”</p>

<p>“Shure, it’s more than one new leaf you’ll need to
turn over, I’m thinkin’.”</p>

<p>Paul laughed at this retort, and even the victim of
Mrs. Hogan’s sarcasm was forced to laugh, too.
Then, greatly to the relief of all present, the unwelcome
visitor left the house.</p>

<p>“Shure, I pity you, Mrs. Barclay,” said Mrs. Hogan,
sympathetically, “for havin’ such a husband as that.
What made you marry him?”</p>

<p>“Because I thought him a different man, but the
delusion didn’t last long. Before three months had
passed I found that he had married me for a few
hundred dollars left me by my aunt. When he had
spent them, he treated me with neglect.”</p>

<p>“Shure’s it’s the way wid the men!”</p>

<p>“I hope not with all of them, Mrs. Hogan,” said
Paul, smiling.</p>

<p>“No, Paul, I don’t mean you. I wouldn’t mind
marrying you if you were old enough.”</p>

<p>“There, I’ve had one offer,” said Paul. “Excuse
my blushes!”</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII_JAMES_BARCLAYS_SCHEME" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII_JAMES_BARCLAYS_SCHEME">CHAPTER XXXVII.<br /><span class="titlefont">JAMES BARCLAY’S SCHEME.</span></a></h2>


<p>James Barclay presented himself the next day, true
to his notice, and demanded ten dollars. Paul was
not at home, and the only persons to whom he
could appeal were his father, his wife, and Mrs.
Hogan.</p>

<p>“I haven’t any money, James,” answered Mrs. Barclay,
“except seventy five cents, and that I must
spend for medicines for your father, and something
for his supper.”</p>

<p>“Where did that money come from?” inquired
Barclay.</p>

<p>“From Paul.”</p>

<p>“Number 91?”</p>

<p>“Yes.”</p>

<p>“Just as I thought! He’s got my father’s money,
and doles it out to you a little at a time.”</p>

<p>“He says it is his own money.”</p>

<p>“That’s a likely story. When could a common
telegraph boy get so much money?”</p>

<p>“He isn’t a common telegraph boy! He is a very
smart boy.”</p>

<p>“An uncommon telegraph boy, then, if you prefer
it. By Jove! I think he is that myself. It isn’t
every boy of his age who could so pull the wool over
an old man’s eyes as he has.”</p>

<p>“He is a very good boy!” said Mrs. Barclay, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
had learned to appreciate Paul, though she was at
first inclined to do him injustice.</p>

<p>“So he is&mdash;of the kind!” retorted her husband.
“If you were not blind you would see that he has
got hold of my father’s property, and means to keep
the lion’s share of it for himself. When will he be
home?”</p>

<p>“Not till six o’clock.”</p>

<p>“And it’s only three. I don’t think I can wait.”</p>

<p>It was fortunate that he did not see the look of
satisfaction upon his wife’s face. It would have incensed
him, for his temper, as the reader has had
occasion to learn, was not of the best.</p>

<p>“Look here!” he said, after a moment’s reflection,
“give me the seventy five cents. I’ll make it do till I
get a chance to see this telegraph boy.”</p>

<p>“But, James, I really can’t spare it. I need it to
buy some supper and medicines for your father.”</p>

<p>“And I need it to buy some supper for myself!”
returned her husband, roughly. “There’s plenty
more money where that came from.”</p>

<p>“Oh, James! how can you be so hard and selfish!”</p>

<p>“Hard and selfish, just because I don’t want to
starve. I s’pose you’d be glad to read my obituary
in the paper some fine morning, Mrs. Barclay, eh?”</p>

<p>“Shure she wouldn’t read much good of you, I’m
thinkin’,” said Mrs. Hogan.</p>

<p>“Don’t be hard on me, Mrs. Hogan. Remember
I’ve promised to marry you, if Ellen, here, ever gives
me the chance.”</p>

<p>“Shure thin I hope she’ll live forever. She’s welcome
to you, though I wish she had a better husband,
as she well desarves, poor dear!”</p>

<p>“I’ll come around again tonight,” was James Barclay’s
parting assurance.</p>

<p>“Don’t you come if you’ve got any other business
to attind to! We can spare you.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p>

<p>But James Barclay did come, and was fortunate
enough to find Paul at home. There his good fortune
ended, however. Paul positively denied having
any money belonging to old Jerry, and as positively
refused to advance James any money of his own.</p>

<p>“Do you expect me to believe that story, Number
91?” demanded the visitor with lowering look.</p>

<p>“I don’t care whether you believe it or not, but it’s
true all the same.”</p>

<p>James Barclay was silent for a moment, and then,
considerably to Paul’s surprise, went out without
further disturbance. The fact was that a new scheme
had occurred to him. He was thoroughly convinced
that Paul had his father’s property in his possession.
If he could get the telegraph boy into his power&mdash;kidnap
him, in fact&mdash;he would be able to extort from
him the money, or learn where it lay concealed.</p>

<p>“Good evening!” he said; “we shall meet again!”</p>

<p>But James Barclay’s plans were frustrated in a
tragic way. On leaving the house he met an old acquaintance
who proposed to him to join forces in a
burglary that evening. Barclay was at the end of
his resources and readily agreed. He had so often
got off scot free that he was disposed to underestimate
the danger incurred. It was destined to be the
last crime in which he was to take part. He was surprised
at his work by a private watchman, and fatally
shot dying almost instantly.</p>

<p>When Paul read in the morning papers the account
of Barclay’s tragic end he was shocked, though he
could not mourn for one whose life had been a curse
to himself and all connected with him. To old Jerry
his son’s death was a positive relief, as may readily
be imagined.</p>

<hr class="chap" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>




<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII_CONCLUSION" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII_CONCLUSION">CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br /><span class="titlefont">CONCLUSION.</span></a></h2>


<p>Three months passed, during which Paul faithfully
attended to his duties as a telegraph boy. He was
held in high consideration by the superintendent,
who was very naturally influenced by the fact that
Paul had made so many influential friends.</p>

<p>But the time was coming when he would no longer
be Number 91.</p>

<p>One night he received a note signed Eliot Wade,
asking him to call in the evening at the Albemarle
Hotel. He presented himself promptly, and was cordially
greeted by the young man from St. Louis, to
whom he had rendered an important service.</p>

<p>“I am glad to see you, Paul,” said the young man.</p>

<p>“And I am glad you have not forgotten me, Mr.
Wade.”</p>

<p>“There was no danger of that. Well, Paul, I have
come to New York for the purpose I mentioned to
you&mdash;that of starting a branch establishment here.”</p>

<p>“Have you secured a store, sir?”</p>

<p>“Yes, I shall be located at &mdash;&mdash; Broadway.”</p>

<p>“That is a fine location.”</p>

<p>“I hope it will prove so. And now, Paul, are you
engaged&mdash;in business, I mean?” he added, smiling.</p>

<p>“I am still a telegraph boy&mdash;Number 91.”</p>

<p>“Will you resign your position, and enter my service?”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>

<p>“Willingly, sir. In a year or two I shall be too old
for a telegraph boy, and it will be well to learn some
business. I suppose you will not want me for some
time.”</p>

<p>“On the contrary, I need you at once. There will
be a good deal of work attendant upon getting
started, and I shall find plenty of work for you.”</p>

<p>“I shall be glad to begin next Monday, sir. I
don’t want to leave the telegraph office without
notice.”</p>

<p>“Very well; let it be so. Will twelve dollars a week
satisfy you at first?”</p>

<p>“Do you really mean it, Mr. Wade?” asked Paul,
in surprise.</p>

<p>“Certainly.”</p>

<p>“But I shan’t earn so much.”</p>

<p>“Leave that to me,” said the young man, smiling.
“I intend to have you earn that sum, and more next
year.”</p>

<p>Paul expressed his gratitude, and immediately gave
notice at the telegraph office that he was about to
leave.</p>

<p>“I expected it, Number 91,” said the superintendent,
“knowing what powerful friends you had secured.
I am sorry to lose you, but I wish you success and
prosperity in your new business.”</p>

<p>Paul thought best to make some change in his
residence. He had already secured a separate room
for himself in the old tenement house, Jerry’s sickness
making it necessary. Now he persuaded old
Jerry to pay the rent of a modest flat up town, to
which he and James Barclay’s family removed. Paul
hired a room not far away.</p>

<p>The location was not far from Central Park, and
the better air and diet very much improved the health
of the old man, who has become less miserly, and
finds comfort in the society of his son’s family.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>

<p>Paul makes frequent calls on Mr. Cunningham, who
receives him as a valued friend. Whether Paul’s partiality
for Jennie Cunningham will lead to anything
when he gets older, I must leave the reader to conjecture.
It must be remembered that he is no longer
a telegraph boy, but a rising young business man.</p>

<p>Mrs. Granville retains her partiality for him, and
makes no secret of the fact that she has remembered
Paul in her will. Paul would be surprised if he knew
the legacy he is to receive; but he wisely keeps the
matter out of his thoughts, and earnestly hopes the
old lady may live many years yet.</p>

<p>It is rather a curious circumstance that Mark Sterling
is employed as a boy in the same establishment
where Paul is a clerk.</p>

<p>When Mark applied for the place he was not aware
that the telegraph boy, upon whom he had looked
down so scornfully, was also employed there. When
he found it out, and that Paul was above him, he was
tempted to resign; but the place was a good one, and
he decided to wait awhile. He feared Paul would
retaliate upon him, but he was soon undeceived.</p>

<p>The ex telegraph boy treated him so cordially, and
showed such an obliging spirit, that Mark was won
in spite of himself, and the two became friends. I
have no doubt that the improved social condition of
Paul, and the prospect that Mrs. Granville would
leave him a legacy, influenced Mark. At any rate, he
has now become a friend of Number 91.</p>

<p>The telegraph boys who used to serve in the same
office with Paul are proud to point him out as a graduate
of the office, and his rise in life encourages them
to hope for future advancement.</p>

<p>“I have had many boys in the office,” said the superintendent
on a recent occasion, “but never one
that came up to <span class="smcap">Number</span> 91.”</p>

<p class="center">THE END.</p>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<div class="boxit">

<p class="center xlargefont">THE CREAM OF JUVENILE FICTION</p>

<p class="center xxlargefont">Boys’ Own Library</p>

<p class="center" style="font-size:130%"><span class="smcap">A Selection of the Best Books Written
by the Most Popular Authors
for Boys.</span></p>

<blockquote>
<p>The titles in this splendid juvenile series
have been selected with care, and as a result
all the stories can be relied upon for their
excellence. They are bright and sparkling,
not overburdened with lengthy descriptions
but brimful of adventure from the first page
to the last&mdash;in fact, they are just the kind
of yarns that appeal strongly to the healthy
boy who is fond of thrilling exploits and
deeds of heroism. Among the authors whose
names are included in Boys’ Own Library
are Horatio Alger, Jr., Edward S. Ellis,
James Otis, Arthur M. Winfield and Frank
H. Converse.</p>

<p>Catalogues will gladly be sent, post free
on application.</p></blockquote>

<p class="center xlargefont" style="margin-top:1.5em">In Cloth.<span style="padding-left:3em">Attractive Covers.</span></p>

<p class="center xlargefont">Price, 75 cents per Volume.</p>

<p class="center largefont" style="margin-top:2em">STREET AND SMITH, <em>New York and London</em>.</p>

</div>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->


<div class="boxit">

<p class="center xlargefont">DARING ADVENTURES IN THE PHILIPPINES</p>

<p class="center xxlargefont">Cast Away in the Jungle</p>

<p class="center">Being the first volume of the “Round World Series”</p>

<p class="center xlargefont">By VICTOR ST. CLAIR</p>

<blockquote>
<p>Here is the tale of two wide-awake American
lads who, as civil engineers just from college,
journey to the island of Luzon to lay out a road
through the <a id="Ref_end"></a> trackless forest for a lumber company.
The volume is filled with adventures
of a healthy kind, and gives in addition much
information concerning the Philippines and their
strange inhabitants.</p></blockquote>

<p class="center xlargefont" style="margin-top:1.5em"><em>Finely illustrated and bound in Cloth</em></p>

<p class="center xlargefont"><em>Stamped in Colors and Gold</em></p>

<p class="center xlargefont"><em>Price, $1.25</em></p>

<p class="center largefont" style="margin-top:2em">STREET AND SMITH, <em>New York and London</em>.</p>

</div>

<hr class="tb" />

<div class="chapter"></div><!--Page break for ePub-->

<div class="transnote">
<h2 style="margin-top: 0em">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2>


<p>The Table of Contents was created by the transcriber and placed in
the public domain.</p>

<p>Page numbers skip from 58 to 61 and from 63 to 66 in the original text,
but no content is missing.</p>

<p>Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
mentioned.</p>

<p>Punctuation has been made consistent.</p>

<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors
have been corrected.</p>

<p>The following changes were made:</p>

<p><a href="#Ref_190">p. 190</a>: “him” changed to “her” (eyed her gravely.)</p>

<p><a href="#Ref_193">p. 193</a>: “a” added (found a great)</p>

<p><a href="#Ref_end">End-advertisements</a>: “tractless” changed to “trackless” (the trackless
forest)</p>

</div>

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52616 ***</div>
</body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-08-22 12:42:06 +0000