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His widow collected his life insurance7*
money and went right on with the board-
ing-hous:
Pri ces were low, but she prospered,
aude wh applied to her for board
. she hai dotse ‘Vaeant' room in the house.
But by waiting a week our hero ob-
tained a small hall-room which had an-
swered his every Purpose, and where he
had lived ever sinc
Dwight Singleton “turned up his aristo-
cratic nose as he rang the bell of the
. humble dwelling, and mentally asked
himself how it was possible that human
beings lived in such places.
The door was opened by ‘Mrs. Guggen-
"heimer herself.
‘y good woman—.. began Singleton.
Bat ze was Gnterrupied by the woman.
aints presarve us! if it ain’t
Misther Dwight Singleton!”
It was very evident from the landlady’ 's
tone that the meeting was not one that
afforded her any especial pleasure.
~~ Nor did Singleton appear to be imbued
with any great enthusiasm as he recog-
s that you, Ann?” he stammered.
ve “gure, an’ it’s no wan else, unless I’m
misinformed,” was the ready reply.
Ah—er—how are you getting along?”
“I’ve no complaint to make, sorr, An’
twhat's yer business, if I may make so
1 © bowld as to ask? TI don’t suppose it’s
there a young man
named \ Westbrook stopping here?”
“Tv! '
“I ‘vould ‘Tike to see him.
At this moment the voice of Sam, who
had just left his room, and who stood at
the head of the stairs, interrupted the
dialogue.
“Please show the fentleman up-stairs,
Mrs. Guggenheimer,” he s
jure, will, sorr,” sot rned Mrs.
Guggenheimer, in a much more respectful
tone than she had used toward Single-
Her way of showing Singleton up was
X\ to
“Ye'll foind yer frind's room at the
head o’ the stairs, sorr.”
And as the young swell began to ascend
the staircase she mutter
egorra, the b’y’s tw! fet ‘the gintleman
“ye are yersilf ie he is only a special-de-
livery messinge
Singleton, on is part, soliloquized:
“Confound the hag! T'd much rather
not have been Secornized her
However, he twisted his features into
the semblance of a smile as he extended
, his hand to Sam.
you, my boy? * I'm really de-
lighted | to see you again.”
” Bed that’s a lie,” mused Mrs, Gug-
“ gethelace, “I don’t belave that felly
was iver plazed to see any wan in his
loife.
‘
~ And she entered the door of her own
moom, closing it with a slam that was
more emphatic and expressive than
“words.
“' She was acquainted with a chapter in
Dwight Singleton’s life that did not re-
dound to the credit of the young swell.
few years before he had been engaged
to be married to the daughter in a family
in which Ann had worked, the family of
a well-known banker.
Financial reverses had overtaken them,
and they became almost penniles
In this emergency, Singleton had brok-
en the engagement on some trifling pre-
text.
The young lady, proken- heartea at his
treachery, had died scarcely a year later,
and her untimely decease had m laid
by all who knew’her directly at “Dwight
ngleton’s door,
‘Sie Guggenheimer knew all this, and
had no yer¥*friendly feelings toward se
sy 1 veges fellow.
- “H
e's a rashcal—that’s fwhat he is,
she continued as she closed the door ot
room, “an’ it’s sorry I am that the
Singleton as politely as it he
addressing one of his society friends.
And how are you feeling this afternoon,
my dear Sam
“Very well, “thank you,” returned our
hero, rather frigidly.
“Glad to hear- it. pve, have you
thought over my off
“Please tell me again just what your
offer was, sir,” said Sam.
“It was simply this: that you enter a
large business house in Boston, where
you will have a chance to progress and
make a man of yourself.”
“The salary——'
“Would be seventy- -five dollars a month,
as I said.”
“You are certain that I can get tho.
position, Mr. Bingletou?”
GOLDEN
“Of course I am, or I would not venture
to. make fhe Bropesiion
Then I a
Singleton s “face lighted wu
He seemed as much pleased as if he had
Just received instead of conferred a favor.
Was this pure disinterestedness on his
part? Was he acting on the belief that
t was more blessed to give than to
ceive?
Sam could not believe so; he had too
good an insight to the chatacter of his
companion.
For some reason Singleton wanted to
get him out of Brooklyn.
What was that reason? ~ }
: That question he could not answer,
but of the fact he was quite sure.
He would have preferred to consult
Mr. Spring before coming to a decision,
ut as the alderman had refused to be
consulted, and as he had no one else to
ask advice from, and the salary was a
temptation, he had decided to go to
Boston,
“You accept?” cried Singleton, again
offering ‘the boy his hand, and looking
more, . delighted than ever.
“I do—that is, if, the work is anything
I am competent to “undertake,
Ob, that will be all fieht KS said Single-
or Wwhat sort of work is it?” persisted
Sam, who a natural desire to know
what kind of a place he was going to get
nto.
“Oh, it’s figuring, or something of the
sort,” was‘ the rather unsatisfactory re-
ply. “I'm no_ busi: ness man, de:
Sam," added Singleton, “and I can’t tell
you exactly what it is. But a boy has
filled the position for the last three years,
and I suppose you can do whet another
boy of your age can, can ‘ty
“I suppose so, sir.”
“Of course you can,
along first-rate.
hope so.”
Oh, you'll get
“I'd like to ask you one question, sir.”
“A dozen, if you ike,” said the accom-
modating Singlet
“Why haye you "taken all this trouble
for me?”
Singleton frowned.
“You’ ve asked me that question before.”
“T kno
“Then vidently you were not satisfied
with my answer, But can give no
other; I have more loose change than I
need for my own use, and it gives me
pleasure to help a smart boy along occa-
sionally.
most destroy the pleasure I feel in doing
‘a charitable act—you do, by Jove! I
thought I was doing you a great service,
but you take me te aoe as if the boot
were on the oth
And Singleton ‘tried to look virtuously
‘indignant,
.
uatin XU .
SAM STARTS FOR BOSTON,
AM was silenced but not convinced;
S he was shrewd enough to see that’
the robe of a philanthropist which
his companion — was trying to don
was a misfit,
After a brief silence, he asked
“What ts the name of the firm that I
am going to work for, sir?”
“Stafford & Stafford, the wel known
bankers,” replied Singleton. “Of course
you have heard of them
Sam never had, and trankly said so.
*“Indeed!” cried his companion with
Nlifted eyebrows. “Well, you will find that
they're pretty well-known in Boston.”
When am I to go?
“To-morrow at the. latest.”
“So soon? I could not go before, sir.”
“Well, you needn’t; but yon ill have
to. go then. Will you be ready
“Yes, sir.
“Good! And now I must bevoft, By the
bye, if you need any money I can let you
have some,
“I do-not need any, sir.
“Very well. I will procure tickets for
you on the 3 P, M, train to-morrow. You
will reach Boston at about half-past nine,
will be able to have a good sleep, and re-
port at the office of Stafford & Stafford
in the morning. I'll see you again in the
evening. Good-day.”
“Good-afternoon, sir.
Singleton {ook his leave in a anything but
_& good hum
Nor was ‘his mood improved when he
saw the rubicund face of Mrs. Guggen-
heimey peering a him through the half-
open back-par! or wit an expres-
tor that ‘ngicated dislike as plainly as
rons nod have done.
do I care for the hag?”
muttered the swell. “But, confound hert
I wish I hadn't met her.. Never mind!
I'll go and get a drink, and then, by tho
_tentive Singleton met. him
HOURS
way, I must buy a Herald and see if that
ereonal’ appeare
glanee at the “Personal” column
showed him that the notice he had writ-
ten in reply to the special-delivery letter
shad opened was there.
wasn't meeded: after all,” he mut-
tere a, “bu t had been it, would have
filled the San to perfection.” ~:
“He little guessed that there was an-
other who perused that “Personal” notice
even more eagerly than
Sam’s resignation was a surprise to
every one in the post-office.
The superintendent and the boys liked
him, and all were sorry to have him go.
His companions tried to persuade epim
to remain, but when they found that he
expected to. get seventy-five dollars a
month in his new place they desisted.
“But look out,” said one, “that they
ain’t workin’ no play on yer.”
Sam affected to laugh at this sugges-
ion; but, in’ truth, he had some misgiv-
ings on this point himself.
nit Singleton was “working a play” on
im—but he would not allow himself to
think of this.
e bad Durned his bridges now, and
ma go
ta tew. ‘minutes before three -o'clock
the next afternoon, the singularly at-
the en-
trance to the Grand Central Depot, with
his usual set smile and his usual extend-
ed han
. “Thought I'd step round, asI happened
to be in the neighborhood,” he said, “and
see that you got off safely. Fine day for
traveling, isn't it?
“Yes, indeed, sir.
“Well, I see you're getting nervous for
fear you’ll miss your train, sé I won't
veer, you. Good-bye, and good luck to
*G000- -bye, sir.
“Write me from Boston, won't you?”
“If you wish it.
“Of course I do. Well, once more,
good-bye, Good luck to you.”
Those words rung in Sam's ears, above
the roar car-wheels for some’
minutes after the train had started.
He did not, he could not, believe that
they were sincere; it seemed to him that
they meant exactly the opposite of what
they said.
For a time his mind was filled with
gloomy presentiments, but the strange-
ness of his surroundings soon drove these
morbid thoughts from his mind, and he
began to look about him with interest.»
Singleton, with the same inexplicable
liberality that he had manifested toward
Sam from the beginning of their singular
acquaintance, had purchased a parlor-car
seat for him, so he was in good—or, at
east, in well-dressed—company.
Upon the chair in front of him
seated a very prepossessing little miss ot
about fourteen.
Her bright blue eyes (which were once
in uwhile cast upon our hero with a
rather disdainful expression—for he was
quite plainly dressed, while she was at-
tired in the very latest style), her pink-
and-white complexion, her long, golden
hair, made quite an impression upon the
not usually susceptible Sam.
Our hero had always cherished a sort
of contemptuous pity for girls, whom:he
regarded as creatures quite inferior to
himself and his kind; but this young lady
somehow or other, seemed to him differ-
ent from any he’knew.
And he felt not a little “put out” that
she regarded him with such evident dis-
dain.
Wasn't he as good as she, even if her
clothes were a little better?
He determined that he wouldn't pay
any attention to her during the remainder.
of the journey.
But Somehow or other he couldn’t help
doing si
In spite of his efforts to control them,
his eyes would seek the graceful little
head bent over’ the last number of
Golden Hours,
At last the young lady, evidently feel-
ing that he was staring at her, bestowed
upon him what she plainly intended to be
a withering Took—an expression which
very plainly sai
“I wish you'd keep your eyes to your-
self, sir.”
Sam took the hint.
He colored up, fldgeted about in his’
seat, as boys will under such circum-
stances, and wished with all his heart
that he had taken some other train.
He had certainly ngt intended to offend
. thé young lady, but she evidently felt in-
ulted,
Our hero had yet to learn that a young
lady’s face must not be taken as an index
f her mind—that she often looks very
angry when she secretly feels pleased.
Sam's glance was perfectly respectful,
and it is more than probable that his
pretty traveling companion felt no’
N
n
- consumed while he was eating hi.
little flattered at the admiration which he
was not worldly-wise enough to .
However this may be, it is a fact that
there was a pretty young lady within a
hundred miles.
At New Haven there was a wait of ten
minutes for refreshments; and as Sam,
being a healthy boy, was hungry, he
availed bimselt “Ot it and hurried. to tke
dining-ro
was scarcely seated when,’ to his
surprise, the young lady who had occupied
be seat in front of him in the car took
her Place by*his side and called for cake
and ice-cream.
he amount of these edibles. that she
3 two
bolled eggs and his ham sandwich really
amaze
She was at work upon the third plate
ice-cream and eighth piece ef cake
when the conductor of the Boston express
roare
“All aboard!”
Sam dropped the remainder of his ham
sandwich, and was about to make a bolt
for the door, when he perceived that the
young lady was eating away just as un-
concernedly as if she had the whole af-
ternoon before her.
eg your pardon,” he said, gently
touching her arm, “but the train is going
to start.”
She gazed at him calmly as she sald:
“I think you are mistaken; the con-
ductor said there ,Wwould be half an hour
for refreshm:
“No, only ten minutes,” alta Sam;
“the train is going
The young lady fgnored him in a man-
ner which she intended to be very dig-
nifled.
“Another plate of ices -cream,”
addressing the attendant.
f you’re on the Boston express, miss,”
said the woman, “you’ etter hurry;
she’s just going to start.”
At this an alarmed look appeared in the
girl's eyes; she threw down a handful of
change and rushed to the door,
Sam quickly followed her, mentally
vowing that he would never be too offici-
ous again,
The next moment he uttered a cry of
horror,
The young lady had rushed directly in
front of a rapidly-moving, Westward-
bound locomotive.
she said,
CHAPTER XIV.
SAM MAKES A FRIEND,
NSTEAD of attempting to retreat or
| proceed on her way, the girl stood
still in front of the engine.
Three shrill whistles. sounded on
he air, mingled with the cries of the
bye -standers, but the young lady did not -
ove,
mghe was actually paralyzed with fright.
“She had not seen the locomotive ap-
proaching, and now that it was almost
upon her she was unable” to save her-
To all pe Peerances fhe was doomed to
suffer a horrible deat!
am was not the only one from whose
lips an exclamation of fear had escaped.
But he was the only one who made any
attempt to rescue the girl.
As he realized the frightful position in
which she was placed he darted forward.
he witnesses of the scene called upon
him to come back, but he paid no heed to
their cries,
In but a fraction of the time that it has
taken us to describe the event he had
seized the young lady around the waist
and lifted her from the tra
rushed to next instant the New ‘York express
ushe;
AS the *sound of its passing died away
a cherus of exclamations arose from the
crow
“Brave boy!”
“Pretty close call, that!”
“Rah for the
“I'd have done w mayselt it Td had an-
other momen
Let's make. up a purse for the lad!”
But above all rose the voice ot the con-
du AT oho of the Boston express
“A
lat train was already twelve Tainutes
ate; it had been delayed a full minute by
the accident oust described, ana could
wait no lon,
The young aay was helped to her seat
by Sam and the conductor, and the char-
table people who had been all ready to
make up a purse for our hero's benefit
were left uaring after the train as it
whizzed a
All the. ‘adie on board the car sur-
rounded the little miss, and literally
overwhelmed her with their expressions
of sympathy.
But she did not receive their attentions
very graciously.
X