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 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
 Lyman took the little boy's hand, and the two turned off Clark
Street, and went in pursuit of Peggy.
 CHAPTER XXVII.
OLD PEGGY.

Tim Roach was not only selfish, but liked to make mischief. He
resolved to be revenged upon Johnny for declining to "treat" him to
a dinner, and having plenty of time on his hands, took pains to seek
out the humble home tenanted by old Peggy.
It was on the third floor of a tall, shabby brick house, not far from
the Chicago and Alton depot. Tim had been there before, and didn't
require directions. He ascended the rickety staircase, nearly treading
on two dirty faced children belonging to a neighbor of Peggy's, who
were playing on the landing. As a third child, older, made her
appearance, Tim stopped long enough to inquire, "Is Peggy at
home?"
"Yes," answered the girl. "She's home, but, oh my, ain't she tight!"
"That's nothin' new," said Tim, composedly.
He knocked at Peggy's door, and receiving no answer, opened it.
The old woman had thrown herself on a truckle bed at one corner
of the room, and was breathing noisily with her eyes half closed.
"Is it you, Johnny!" she asked, without turning her head.
"No, it's me!"
"Who's me?"
"Tim Roach."
"What do you want?"
 "I've just seed Johnny, Peggy."
"Has he sold many matches? Where is he?"
"I seed him in an eatin' house. He was eatin' a bully dinner."
"What!" exclaimed Peggy, now thoroughly roused, raising herself
on her elbow. "What's that you say, Tim Roach?"
Tim, quite enjoying the commotion he had raised, repeated his
information.
"So he's spendin' my money in fillin' his stomach, the little
wretch!" exclaimed Peggy. "That's why he brings home so little
money. The ungrateful little imp that I've slaved and slaved for these
last six years, takin' advantage of a poor old woman when her back's
turned! Where was it, Tim, dear?"
Tim mentioned the restaurant.
"And what was he eatin', Tim?"
"He ordered a cup o' coffee and beefsteak—I don't know what else
he had."
"I'll learn him to chate and decave me!" said the old woman,
angrily. "He only brought home twenty-five cents yesterday, and I
takin' care of him, and buyin' him close and vittles."
"I guess he buys some dinner every day," said Tim.
"And I never to suspect it! Tim, dear, you're a good boy to come
and tell me. You wouldn't treat your best friend that way?"
"No, I wouldn't!" said Tim, virtuously. "What are you goin' to do to
him, Peggy?"
"Where's my stick, Tim? Do you see it anywhere?"
"No, I don't," answered Tim, after a search.
"Some of them children downstairs must have carried it off."
"I can buy you a cane for ten cents."
 "And where would the ten cents come from I would like to know.
I'll bate him wid my fists, the ongrateful young kid."
"What are you goin' to give me for tellin' you, Peggy?" asked Tim.
"I'll give you a penny the next time I see you," said Peggy,
vaguely.
"That isn't enough. Give me a nickel to buy a glass of beer?"
"I haven't got it, Tim. I wish I had, for I'm awful dhry myself."
"I wouldn't have come all the way to tell you if I'd know'd that,"
said Tim, discontentedly.
Just then a noise was heard on the stairs, and Tim, opening the
door wider, looked out.
"Here's Johnny now, Peggy!" he said in excitement.
"Come home the middle of the afternoon, too, the young rascal!"
ejaculated the old woman. "I'll fix him!"
"So here you are, you young——," commenced Peggy, as Johnny
made his appearance, but the threat with which she was about to
conclude, died in the utterance, when she saw that Johnny was
closely followed by a tall man of middle age.
"Who are you, sir?" she asked irritably, "and what brings you
here? If you're the agent, I haven't got any money for you."
"Don't you remember me, Peggy?" asked Lyman, sinking with rare
courage into a chair which cracked under his weight.
"No, sir, I don't. If I had my glasses, perhaps——"
"I see you've got company, Peggy," continued Lyman, with a
significant look at Tim. "I would like to speak to you alone. It'll be to
your advantage, mind," he added, detecting a suspicious look on the
old woman's face. "Just send the two boys out to play, and we'll
speak together."
"First, hand over what money you've got, Jack," said Peggy. "I
ain't goin' to have you wastin' it outside. Let me see your matches!
How many boxes did you sell?"
"Five," answered Johnny.
"Only five!" exclaimed the old woman, holding up her hands. "You
were playin' in the strates, I'll be bound!"
"No, I wasn't, Aunt Peggy. I tried to sell more, but——"
"Oh, yes, I understand! And you'd done so well you thought you'd
buy yourself a dinner off my money. Come here and let me shake
you!"
"Tim told you!" said the little boy, with a reproachful look at his
betrayer.
"Yes, he told me, and he was a good bye for doin' it."
"He said he'd tell if I didn't buy him some, too."
"Is that threu?" asked Peggy.
"Hark to him!" said Tim, with virtuous indignation. "It's a lie, and
he knows it."
"Did you spend all the money, Jack?" demanded Peggy. "If you did
——"
"But I didn't, Aunt Peggy. Some good people gave me some
money, and——"
"It was for me, then. How dared you spind it?"
"I've brought most of it home, Peggy. See here!" and Johnny took
out a handful of small silver coins and pennies, and poured them
into the old woman's lap.
Peggy was agreeably surprised. She saw that there was nearly a
dollar, much more than Johnny generally brought home, and it put
her in a good humor.
"You've done well, Jack!" she said. "I won't grudge the money you
spent for a bit of dinner. Now go out and play wid Tim."
"I don't want to play with him. He told on me."
 "My lad," said Lyman, "can't you bring a bottle of beer for your
good aunt and myself. Here's money; you can bring back the
change."
"You go, Jack, for the gentleman," said Peggy, quite restored to
good humor. "I don't mind sayin' that my throat is just parched with
bein' so dhry."
Johnny went out, and soon returned, for he had not far to go. In
spite of his company being so unwelcome, Tim went and returned
with him.
"Won't you give me a little, Peggy," he asked.
"No, I won't. You wanted Jack to trate you on my money. Now
clear out, and never let me see your ugly face here ag'in."
"That's the thanks I get for tellin' you!" complained Tim. "And
after runnin' myself out of breath, too!"
"Clear out wid you! And you, Jack, go back and see if you can't
sell some more matches. It's only the middle of the afternoon, and
there's plenty of time before sunset to sell half-a-dozen boxes."
Johnny obeyed, not unwillingly, for he was not partial to home,
nor did he enjoy Peggy's company. Tim accompanied him, but
Johnny, gentle as he was, refused to have anything to say to him.
Tim felt that he was badly treated. Johnny turned his back on him,
and Peggy had utterly failed to acknowledge the service he had
rendered her. Tim was of opinion that it was a cold world, and that
there was little encouragement to be virtuous.
 CHAPTER XXVIII.
LYMAN'S PLAN.

"Here's your health, Peggy!" said Lyman, emptying his glass.

"Thank you, sir!" said Peggy, following his example. "You're very
kind, I'm sure, and I ought to remember you, but my memory ain't
what it was."
"So you don't remember me?"
"I can't remimber that I iver set eyes on your face before, sir."
"Then you don't remember the man that brought you a small child
to take care of near six years ago?"
"Shure it's himself!" ejaculated the old woman, peering curiously
into Lyman's face. "I only saw you twice, and that's why I forgot.
Shure it was a cruel thrick you played upon a poor old woman, when
you gave her a baby to take care of, and then, five long years never
sent her even a penny. It's hundreds and hundreds of dollars I've
spent on little Jack, and he no kin to me!"
"No doubt he has been brought up in the lap of luxury! He looks
like it," said Lyman with an amused smile.
"And now you've come to pay me all I spent on the child?"
insinuated Peggy.
"Well, not just yet. The fact is, Peggy, unavoidable circumstances
prevented my communicating with you, and the same won't admit of
my paying over the hundreds of dollars that Jack has cost you."
 "Then what do you want of me?" inquired the old woman
disappointed.
"I think I can see a way by which both of us can make something
out of the boy. By-the-way, it strikes me just at present that he is
supporting you instead of you taking care of him."
"He only brings in a few pennies a day," said Peggy. "Shure it's
hardly enough to pay his salt."
"Then Jack must be immoderately fond of salt. However, I'll let
you into a secret. His grandfather is looking for him."
"His grandfather?"
"Yes; no doubt you are surprised that Jack possesses a
grandfather, but that is a fact. His grandfather is my uncle, and what
is more to the purpose he has a fair property."
"And little Jack is goin' to be rich?" gasped Peggy in amazement.
"Well, I don't know! That depends on whether we allow his
grandfather to find him."
"And why shouldn't he? Wouldn't he be givin' a big reward?"
"That is where you come to the point, my good Peggy. If he will
make it worth our while, we may restore him to the old gentleman."
"And how much would he be givin', d'ye think?" asked Peggy, her
bead-like eyes sparkling with greed.
"I shouldn't wonder, Peggy, if you might get a hundred dollars out
of it."
"A hundred dollars—after my takin' care of the boy ever since he
was a babby. Now you're jokin'."
"Well, you see, his grandfather isn't a rich man—" explained
Lyman, fearing he had unduly raised the expectations of the old
woman.
"You said he was!" retorted Peggy sharply.
 "I said he had a comfortable property—for a country town. That
means a few thousand dollars."
"He sha'n't have him for such a thrifle," snapped Peggy.
"The police might take him from you, without your getting a cent."
"How would they know, unless you told 'em?" asked Peggy
suspiciously.
"Look here, Peggy!" said Lyman in a conciliatory tone. "We've got
to stand by each other in this thing. Just leave the matter in my
hands, and I'll manage it as well as I can. I'll get as much money
from the old gentleman as I can."
"And you'll give me half?"
"Of course—that is, after necessary expenses are paid."
"And what am I to do then?"
"Nothing, except to stay here, and see that nobody gets hold of
Jack. Does he know who he is?"
"He thinks I'm his aunt."
"And is proud of the connection, no doubt," said Lyman, who
could not restrain his tendency to sarcasm. "Well, perhaps that is as
well. Don't let any one know that it is not true. We can keep quiet till
the time comes to make it known. Now, I'll leave you, and take the
first step by writing to my uncle. Good afternoon, Peggy! I'll call
again in a day or two."
"Couldn't you leave me a dollar or two before you go?" whined
Peggy. "Me health is very poor, and I can't work, and it's only a few
pennies the boy brings in."
"You're better off than I am," said Lyman curtly, "for I am out of
employment and I have no boy to bring me in pennies. I don't know
but I'd better take Jack at once, and then you won't have to take
care of him."
 "I'll kape him," said the old woman hurriedly—for she had no wish
to lose the income the match boy brought in, small as it was. "I'll
kape him, for he's used to me life, and he's happier here."
"Just as you like, Peggy!" returned Lyman with a smile at the
success of his stratagem. "I'd help you if I could, but I'm almost at
the bottom of my purse as it is. I'll see you again in a day or two,
and report progress."
"I've done a good day's work," reflected Lyman, as he picked his
way downstairs, nearly slipping on a piece of orange peel on one of
the steps. "It was a piece of good luck, my finding Jack so soon after
seeing that St. Louis paper—but I must write an effective letter to
my uncle."
Lyman went to the Sherman House, and entering the writing-room
procured a sheet of note paper, and penned the following note:
"Chicago, September 7, 18—.
"My Dear Uncle:
"I am afraid you are feeling anxious about me, and I will therefore relieve
your affectionate solicitude, by saying that I am well in health, but low—very
low in pocket. It costs more to live in Chicago than in Pocasset, and the sum
of money with which you provided me is nearly gone. As I am a little afraid
this hint won't be sufficient to open your heart, let me add that I can make it
worth your while to be generous.
"It has come to my knowledge that you have sent out Mark Manning in
search of your grandson. How you came to suspect that my cousin left a boy
I can't imagine, but I don't mind telling you that you are correct. She did
leave a boy, whose name is Jack Ransom. He is now about eight years of age.
I know where he is and can lay my hands upon him at any moment. Whether
I will or not depends on how you propose to deal with me. Of course it isn't to
my interest that the boy should be found, as outside of him I am your natural
and legal heir. I know that Mark Manning is scheming to get possession of
your property when you are gone, but I am sure you wouldn't throw it away
on a stranger, when your brother's son is living.
"Now, Uncle Anthony, I am going to make you a proposition. Bear in mind,
if you please, that I am the only one who can restore little Jack to you. Only
one other person knows about him and she never heard of you, and doesn't
know Jack's last name. If you will guarantee me five thousand dollars within
 three months, two thousand being cash down, I will myself bring on little
Jack, and place him in your arms. Now, I am sorry to say that the boy has a
miserable home, and is scantily supplied with the necessaries of life. A
miserable career of poverty and perhaps crime, awaits him unless you come
to my terms. Let me know as soon as possible what you propose to do.
"A letter directed to me at the Chicago post-office will reach me safely.
"Your affectionate nephew,
"Lyman Taylor."

Anthony received this letter in due time, and deemed it of

sufficient importance to warrant a visit to New York. He wished to
lay it before Mr. Hardy, and ask his advice.
 CHAPTER XXIX.
MARK RECEIVES A TELEGRAM.

"My good friend," said Mr. Hardy, "have you any reason to think
your nephew's statement is to be relied upon?"
"I hope so," answered Anthony. "I am getting to be an old man,
and I should like to feel that some one of my own blood would
survive me, and profit by a part of the competence which God has
bestowed upon me."
"It may be simply a money-making scheme on the part of Lyman,"
said the agent, thoughtfully. "Finding that he has little chance of
becoming your heir, he wants to secure a handsome reward for
restoring to you your grandson. Why has he not proposed it before?"
"Because he did not know I had any property to leave, or else
because he supposed his own chances of inheriting good. After the
last interview with me, he probably lost the hope of profiting by my
death."
"There is something in what you say, Mr. Taylor. What is your own
idea?"
"I would give five thousand dollars, if necessary, to secure the
return of my grandson. It would give me an object to live for."
"I should be exceedingly sorry to see that sum pass into the hands
of such a rascal as your graceless nephew."
"Would you offer two thousand?"
"I would hold no serious negotiations with him."
 "But I would run the risk of leaving the poor boy to a life of
poverty, and myself to a lonely old age."
"My idea is this. I will telegraph to Mark Manning, who is now in
St. Louis, the particulars of your nephew's offer, with instructions to
go at once to Chicago, find out Lyman, and put a detective on his
track. If his story is true, he probably visits the boy from time to
time. In this way it can be discovered where the boy lives, and steps
can be taken to secure him."
"I approve of your plan," said Anthony. "Let it be carried out at
once."
"There will be this advantage," added Hardy. "Your enterprising
nephew will not realize any benefit from his nice little scheme for
trading upon your affections."
"Do as you think best, my good friend. Your judgment is always
better than mine."
John Hardy rapidly penned the following despatch.
"Mark Manning, Planter's Hotel, St. Louis: Go at once to Chicago and find
Lyman Taylor. He knows where child is. Employ a detective, and track him to
boy's residence. Don't let him suspect your object. Keep me apprised of your
progress.
John Hardy."
This despatch reached Mark within two hours. He had been in St.
Louis several days, and had learned nothing. Two or three persons
had called upon him with bogus information in the hope of a reward,
but he was sharp enough to detect the imposition. He was beginning
to despair of success when Mr. Hardy's telegram was received. Mark
brightened up. He saw his way clearer now.
He went out to purchase a ticket for Chicago, and on his return
found a second telegram in these words:
"Lyman admits knowledge of boy, and offers to restore him for five
thousand dollars."
 "I will endeavor to thwart Mr. Lyman Taylor," said Mark to himself.
"He is a greater rascal than I thought."
Mark paid his bill and took the next train for Chicago. He arrived
late, and registered at the Fremont House, where he prepared
himself for the difficult work that lay before him by taking a good
night's rest. In the morning he awoke hopeful and determined, and
after breakfast went out to walk. He had no clue to the where-
abouts of Lyman, but thought it possible he might meet him as he
had done before in the streets.
He walked about for two hours, keeping his eyes wide open, but
though he scanned many hundreds of faces, that of Lyman Taylor
was not among them. Yet his walk was to be more successful than
he anticipated.
Little Jack still continued his street trade of selling matches. Peggy
was not willing to give up the small revenue she obtained from the
boy's sales. Sometimes, also, a compassionate passer-by would
bestow a dime or nickel on the boy, pitying him for his thin face and
sad expression. Sometimes, if Tim were not by, he would buy a
cheap lunch, for the scanty rations which he received from Peggy,
left him in a chronic state of hunger.
It was fortunate that the poor boy indulged himself thus, or his
feeble strength would hardly have held out against hunger and hard
work combined.
Unwittingly Jack had made an active enemy in Tim Roach. His
refusal to treat, Tim persuaded himself, was very mean, and his
indignation was increased by the ill-success of his attempt to secure
pay for the information given to Peggy. He was anxious to be
revenged upon Jack, and was only waiting for an opportunity.
Malice generally finds its opportunity after awhile. One day Jack
set down his basket of matches a moment while he ran into a shop
to change a twenty-five cent piece. Tim was close at hand, and slyly
secured the basket, and fled swiftly through a narrow passage-way
with his booty. He had not only secured a stock of merchandise, but
he had got Jack into trouble.
When Jack came out and found his basket gone he was in dismay.
"Who took my basket?" he inquired of an applewoman, who kept
a stand close by.
"There was a bye here just now—bigger than you. He must have
run off wid it when my back was turned away."
"Where did he go?" asked Jack, anxiously.
"I didn't mind."
"What was he like?"
"Shure I've seed him here afore wid you. You called him Tim."
"It was Tim Roach!" exclaimed Jack. "He's a mean boy. He took it
to get me into trouble."
"Shure he looks like a thafe."
The tears started to Jack's eyes.
"I don't know what to do," he said, piteously. "I am afraid Peggy
will beat me when I get home."
"Who is Peggy?" asked a new voice.
Jack looked towards the speaker. He saw a pleasant-faced boy,
apparently about sixteen.
"She's the woman I live with," answered Jack.
"What will she beat you for?" asked Mark, for it was he. He had
just come up, and hadn't heard of Jack's misfortune, but his heart
was stirred to sympathy, by the sadness visible upon the little boy's
face.
"For losing my matches," and thereupon Jack told his story to his
new acquaintance.
"How much were the matches worth?" asked Mark.
 "There were fourteen boxes. They cost me three cents a piece.
Then there was the basket. That cost a quarter."
"Do you know where to buy more?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then take this dollar bill, and get a new supply."
Jack's little face glowed with gratitude.
"Oh, how kind you are!" he said.
"Do you generally stand here?" asked Mark.
"Yes, sir."
"Does this Peggy send you out every day?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is she related to you?"
"I thought she was my aunt," answered the match boy, "but last
evening a gentleman called on Peggy, I heard them talking when
they thought I was asleep," Jack continued in a lower tone. "I heard
the gentleman say I had a grandfather living at the East, and that he
would pay a good sum to get hold of me. I wish he would, for Peggy
doesn't give me enough to eat, and sometimes she beats me."
"Tell me about this gentleman," said Mark in excitement. "Is he
tall?"
"Yes, sir."
"With black hair and whiskers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know his name?"
"No, sir; but there he is now!"
Mark followed the direction of the boy's finger, and he recognized,
though his head was turned, the familiar form of Lyman Taylor on
the opposite side of the street.
 CHAPTER XXX.
MARK MAKES ARRANGEMENTS WITH JACK.

Mark's excitement was at fever heat. In the most wonderful

manner he had succeeded almost without an effort. He could not
doubt that this boy was the very one of whom he was in search.
He was apprehensive that Lyman would turn, and on recognizing
him penetrate his design and arrange to defeat it. But fortunately
the object of his dread appeared to have other business in hand and
kept on his way, never turning back.
"How old are you?" he asked, thinking it best to make assurance
doubly sure.
"Peggy says I'm goin' on eight," answered the match boy.
"That is the right age," thought Mark.
"Have you always lived in Chicago?" he continued.
"No, sir; Peggy brought me from St. Louis when I was a very little
child."
"I suppose you don't remember much about St. Louis?"
"I don't remember it at all."
"What does Peggy do for a living?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
"Nothing much," he answered; "she says she isn't well enough to
work."
"Surely she does not depend wholly upon what you earn?"
 "I don't know. Sometimes she gets money in a letter. I think it
comes from her son."
"Then she has a son?"
"Yes."
"Where does he live?"
"I saw one of his letters once. It said Fall River on the wrapper. I
think he works in a factory."
"Fall River is a city in Massachusetts. I have never been there, but
I hear that they have factories there."
"So you can read writing?" asked Mark after a pause.
"Yes, a little."
"And I suppose you can read books and papers?"
"A little. I went to a primary school for a little while, and
afterwards a lady used to hear my lessons. She lived in the same
place with us."
"Did you like studying?"
"Ever so much. I should be happy if I could go to school again,
but Peggy says I know enough, and she needs me to earn my
living."
"Do you know the name of that gentleman you pointed out to
me?"
"No, I don't think I heard Peggy mention his name."
"How long has he been in the habit of coming to see you and
Peggy?"
"He has only been there two or three times. Peggy didn't
remember him at first. I think they used to know each other a good
while ago."
"Suppose this gentleman's story were true, and you had a
grandfather at the East who could take good care of you, would you
be willing to go to him?"
"Would he be kind to me? Do you know him?" asked the little
fellow eagerly.
"Yes, I know him, and I am sure he would be very kind to you.
Would you be willing to leave Peggy?"
"Yes," answered little Jack promptly.
"How does she treat you?"
"If I bring home a good bit of money, she pats me on the head
and says I am a good boy, but if I am not lucky she is very cross,
and sometimes she beats me."
Mark's sympathies were aroused. Jack was so small, and weak in
appearance, that it seemed to him revolting to think of his being at
the mercy of a cruel old woman. Half unconsciously his fist doubled
up, his teeth closed firmly together, and he just wished he had the
merciless Peggy in his power.
"Is Peggy temperate?" he asked.
Jack looked at him inquiringly.
"Does she drink?" Mark asked, changing the form of his question.
"She drinks beer, and sometimes whiskey," answered Jack.
"Does she get—drunk?"
"Sometimes."
"How does it affect her?"
"It makes her sleepy or cross. I always run away when she has
been drinking—when I can, but sometimes she locks the door and
fastens me in. Then, if I can, I hide under the bed."
"Poor boy! you have a hard time of it. Now, Jack, can you keep a
secret?"
Jack nodded, and his face assumed a cunning look, for the poor
boy had more than once felt obliged to practice dissimulation, in the
rough school in which he had been trained.
"Yes," he answered.
"Then I am going to tell you a secret. Your grandfather sent me
out here to find you."
"He sent you!" ejaculated Jack.
"Yes."
"But I thought he sent that gentleman—the one I pointed out to
you."
"No; that gentleman, as you call him, is your mother's cousin. He
is a near relation of yours."
"But he spoke to Peggy about carrying me back to my
grandfather."
"He has an object in view. He won't give you up to your
grandfather unless he gets a large sum of money. I suppose he has
promised to give Peggy some of the money."
"Yes, I heard him promise Peggy a hundred dollars."
Mark smiled.
"Then I think he is going to cheat Peggy," he said. "He wants five
thousand dollars for himself."
"Why, that is a good deal more than a hundred dollars."
"Yes, it is fifty times as much. Did Peggy seem to be satisfied with
a hundred?"
"No; she said it was very little, but he said perhaps my
grandfather would give her as much as that every year."
"It is evident he proposes to take the old woman in."
"I don't care, if he will only take me back to my grandfather. Will
he give me enough to eat?"
"My poor child, are you hungry?" asked Mark, compassionately.
 "Yes; I think I am always hungry," sighed Jack. "Peggy says I eat
too much."
"You don't look much like it. Now Jack, one thing more. Would you
be willing to leave Peggy, and go to New York with me?"
"Would you take me to my grandfather?"
"Yes; that is just what I want to do."
"I am ready to go now," said Jack, putting his hand confidingly in
Mark's.
"That is well, but it will be better to wait till to-morrow. What time
do you get up in the morning?"
"About eight o'clock. It isn't any use to go out too early."
"And at what time do you come here, Jack?"
"About half-past eight or nine."
"Then I will meet you to-morrow, somewhere about that time, and
I will have tickets ready to take us to New York. We can catch the
ten o'clock train. There isn't any danger of Peggy keeping you, is
there?"
"Not unless she thinks I am goin' to run away."
"She mustn't suspect that. We must be sure to keep that from her.
I suppose you have no other clothes than those you have on?"
"No, sir."
"I will hunt up a clothing-store, and get you fitted out before we
start. I shouldn't like your grandfather to see you in that ragged
suit."
Jack looked down at his jacket, frayed, tattered and greasy, and
said:
"I've often wished I had nice clothes like that boy," and he pointed
out a boy of about his own age, dressed in knickerbockers.
 "You shall have your wish to-morrow, Jack. Now I suppose you
had better go and buy some more matches, so that Peggy won't
suspect anything."
"Yes, sir."
"You'll be sure to meet me to-morrow, Jack?"
"Yes, sir."
"And don't let Peggy suspect from your looks that anything is
going on."
"Yes, sir."
"Everything looks favorable," thought Mark as he walked slowly to
his hotel. "To-morrow at this time Peggy and the worthy Lyman will
be mourning for a lost boy."
 CHAPTER XXXI.
JACK TALKS IN HIS SLEEP.

Jack was naturally very much excited by the new prospects that
opened out before him. He had seen little happiness in his short life.
It is a sad thing to say that he had hardly ever known what it was to
eat a full meal. Cold and pinching privation, and long, toilsome days
in the streets, had been his portion hitherto. Was it possible, he
asked himself, that all this was to be changed.
Was he to have a home like other boys, and a relation who was
able to supply him with the comforts of which he knew so little?
It seemed like a dream, and little Jack might have been tempted
to distrust the information which had been given to him. But
somehow he could not help feeling confidence in what Mark told
him. He felt that Mark would not deceive him, and the dream must
come true after all.
Jack finished out the day as usual, and went home. Peggy's
attention was at once called to the new basket.
"Where did that come from?" she asked.
"My basket was stolen, and a kind gentleman gave me money to
buy this." Jack answered.
"Was the matches stole too?"
"Yes; he gave me money enough to buy as many as I lost."
"Who stole 'em? Do you know?"
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