Richard repeated his kicking, and presently there were sounds of
footsteps within, the turning of a key in the lock, and then the door
opened cautiously, revealing Mrs. Linyard.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed. "Come in! I was afraid it might be some
drunken man; there's so many here of a Sunday, trying to get in."

"Aunt Betty, don't you know me!" piped up Pep's voice, all in a tremble.

Mrs. Linyard turned and surveyed the street urchin eagerly.

"Mercy me! if it hain't Tom's boy!" she ejaculated. "Where in the world
did you come from?"

"Mr. Dare brought me," replied Pep.

Mrs. Linyard caught him up in her arms.

"Who'd a believed it!" she cried. "Mr. Dare a doing of it. Why, you're
as dirty as a pig! Where's your dad and your marm and sister Mary?"

"Dad's sick. We just left him. Marm and Mary are dead. Mr. Dare says
you've got money for dad. I'm so glad, 'cause he's sick."

"Mother and Mary dead!" The sad news brought the tears to the woman's
eyes. "Poor dear! Poor Tom!"

"Mr. Clover is very sick," said Richard. "He has no one to care for
him but Pep. Is Mr. Linyard at home?"

"Yes; taking his nap on the sofa. I'll call him--or no, come up. My,
what a surprise 'twill be for him! He'd about given up."

Taking Pep by the hand Mrs. Linyard led the way up to her "best room,"
where her husband lay sound asleep on a lounge.

"Get up, Doc!" she cried, shaking him vigorously. "Get up! Here's your
nevvy; and Mr. Dare has found Tom! Just think of it--he's found Tom!
Wake up, Doc! Was ever there such a man! To keep on sleeping with such
good news to hear!"




CHAPTER XXVI.

A SCENE IN THE STOCK-ROOM.


But Doc Linyard did not sleep for any great length of time after his
good wife began to shake him. A moment later he sprang up, rubbing his
eyes.

"Ship ahoy!" he cried heartily. "What's up, what's the trouble?" Then
catching sight of Richard and Pep: "Hello, visitors! How are you,
Dare?"

"Here's Tom's son," repeated Mrs. Linyard. "Mr. Dare has found Tom."

"_What!_" The old sailor looked at the street urchin. "Bless my
heart if it _hain't_ Tom's son! Well, well, Dare; this is better
than getting them letters back." And he took hold of Pep with both
hands.

Richard had it on his tongue's end to say that Pep was the one who had
taken the letters in the first place, but a second thought made him
keep silent. It would do no good to tell, and he would be willing to
vouch for the boy's honesty in the future.

Richard's story, as well as Pep's, was soon told, and then Doc Linyard
and his wife prepared to accompany the two back to Frying Pan Court.

"I'm glad I've got a little money saved," said the old sailor to
Richard, as they hurried across town. "Poor Tom shan't want for anything
while there's a shot left in the locker. It's funny he wouldn't let
us know his condition."

"He was allers sensitive," put in Mrs. Linyard, "and I suppose coming
down made him more so."

It was not long before the little party reached the dingy garret room
where the sufferer lay. Frank received them with a warning for silence.
He said he had had quite a turn with the sick man, but now Mr. Clover
had dropped back exhausted and was dozing.

Mrs. Linyard wept bitterly as she knelt beside the form of her sick
brother. Yet she was thankful that he had been found, and her gratitude
to Richard was outspoken and genuine.

It was decided that the sick man should be at once removed to one of
the private wards of a neighboring hospital, where Mrs. Linyard might
see him daily; and then have him taken to her own home as soon as it
was deemed safe to do so.

Frank, who was somewhat acquainted with the methods of procedure,
accompanied the old sailor to the institution and helped him to make
the necessary arrangements.

Half an hour later an ambulance drove into Frying Pan Court. Tom Clover
was removed with the greatest of care, the garret room was locked up,
and Pep, like one in a dream, went off with his newly-found uncle.

It was nearly sundown when the two boys reached the Massanets' again.

"How long you've been!" exclaimed Mattie, who let them in.

"And we've had quite an adventure," replied her brother.

"Ees zat so?" put in Mrs. Massanet. "You must tell ett, Francois."

"I will, mother," replied Frank. "But Richard will have to help; it's
really his story."

"Then both go ahead," cried Mattie. "Only _do_ go ahead. I am dying to
hear!"

Of course Mrs. Massanet as well as Mattie was highly interested in the
boys' story, and both were deeply touched at the account of Frying Pan
Court and the scene in the little garret room.

"I want to know little Pep," said Mattie. "He is too bright a chap to
run the streets." "I guess Doc Lanyard won't let him do that any more,"
returned Richard. "Especially if he gets that money he's expecting
from England."

"That sailor didn't lose anything by being kind to you," remarked
Frank. "I declare you deserve a reward."

"If only some old soldier would turn up, so that you could get your
father's pension," went on Mattie, "that would be better than a reward."

"You're right," replied Richard. "Even if we only got a thousand dollars
it would help along wonderfully at home."

Monday morning found the two hard at work in the stock-room. About ten
o'clock Mr. Mann came up, and beckoned to Richard to come to one corner.

"I want to find out about an order that was shipped on the tenth to
Pittsburgh," he said, when they were alone. "There is something wrong
about it. You were here by yourself on that day. Do you remember it?"

"To Pittsburgh?" repeated Richard slowly. "Yes, I do. Mr. Williams
filled that order."

"Mr. Williams!" Mr. Mann looked surprised. "I don't understand."

"Mr. Williams came up here while I was alone and offered to help me.
I said that the Pittsburgh order I couldn't read very well; so he took
it and filled it. He will probably remember it."

"Probably he will," replied Mr. Mann, "and in that case the trouble
is certainly _all_ downstairs. You need not mention this occurrence
to any one."

Mr. Mann went below; and there were no more interruptions for that
day. But trouble was in the air, and on the following day the climax
came.

Richard was alone in the stock-room, Frank having just gone below on
business. There was a clatter on the stairs, and turning to see what
was the matter Richard confronted Earle Norris.

The shipping-clerk was pale, but his manner showed that he was also
angry, whether reasonably or not remained to be seen.

"You little greenhorn, you!" he cried. "What do you mean by getting
me into trouble?"

"I don't know as I have," replied Richard, as coolly as he could; and,
not wishing to engage in a personal encounter, he very wisely placed
several cases between himself and his angry accuser.

"Yes, you have!" roared Norris. "You told Mr. Mann that that order
from Pittsburgh was sent down all right, and that if any of the goods
were changed they were changed downstairs."

"I told no one anything of the kind," replied Richard briefly, though
he could readily understand the mistake under which Norris was laboring.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I did not."

"Oh, come, I know better. If you didn't, who did? Massanet wasn't
here."

"That's true, too; but, nevertheless, I didn't tell Mr. Mann."

"You're a--" began the shipping-clerk passionately.

"Here! here! Stop that, Norris!" came a voice from the elevator; and
the next instant Mr. Williams stepped into the room. "What do you mean
by creating such a disturbance?"

"Dare is trying to put up a job on me," began the shipping-clerk. "He
told Mr. Mann that that order for Pittsburgh was sent down 0.K. and--"

"And so it was," replied Mr. Williams calmly.

"No, sir; it was--"

"Hold up, Norris; there is no use of further words," said Mr. Williams
sharply. "You were discharged half an hour ago, and you had better
leave. It was I that told Mr. Mann that the order had gone down all
right, because I filled it myself. I suspected you for a long time,
and I wanted to find out the truth. Dare and Massanet are entirely
innocent in the matter. I have much more information against you--and
also a book-dealer who has sold you old books and bought your new
ones--but we will let that drop. I have learned that your family is
quite a respectable one. For their sake, as well as your own, I advise
you to turn over a new leaf. You can go."

For an instant Norris hesitated. Then he turned, and without a word
of reply hurried down the stairs.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone.

"I am sorry he placed you two up here in such a false position," said
Mr. Williams to Richard. "Please tell Massanet of it, too. Neither of
you shall lose anything by it."




CHAPTER XXVII.

A FIRE AND ITS RESULT.


As one proof of Williams & Mann's good intentions towards Richard, the
boy found his salary on the following week increased to eight dollars,
and Frank received a proportionate addition to his pay.

In the middle of the week a new shipping-clerk, a German by the name
of Bretzwartz, was engaged, and, though everybody in the establishment
found it hard at first to understand the young man's broken English,
yet he was such a jolly fellow--as well as an honest and capable
one--that he was soon on good terms all around.

During the evenings of this week Richard wrote a great number of letters
to the Grand Army and other military organizations, in the hope of
finding some one who had known his father during the war or immediately
after it.

On Thursday evening Frank accompanied him to the neighborhood in which
Mr. Dare had once resided; but, though the two spent nearly three hours
in the search, no trace of any former acquaintance was found.

"You see it's different here from what it is in the country," said
Frank, when they were returning. "Here you often find that people don't
know who lives next door, or even in the same house with them. It
sounds queer, but it's true. No one is introduced, no one is sociable,
and the majority are continually moving, in the hope of finding a
better dwelling or cheaper rent."

"Yes, I noticed that," replied Richard, with something like a sigh.
"Out in the country everybody knows everybody else, and outside of a
few prim people all are as sociable as can be. But I suppose if one
wants to make money one must expect to give up some comforts."

"You're right there," replied Frank.

During the week Pep met them twice on the Bowery. He was cleanly washed,
had his curly hair brushed, and wore a brand-new suit. In his altered
appearance Richard hardly knew him.

"Dad's better," was the urchin's reply to the boy's question. "Uncle
Doc is going to take him out of de hospital next week, so as Aunt Betty
can nurse him herself. She's awful kind, she is."

"And how do you like the change?" asked Frank.

"I feel like I was dreamin'," was Pep's answer. "It don't seem natural--
these clo'es and that nice home. It's like de times long ago."

"Are you selling papers yet?" asked Richard.

"No, sir. Uncle Doc says I'm to go to school in a week or so. He says
I must have an eddication, and he's going to help dad get his money
and invest it so it's safe, and all that. Here's yer dollar."

As Pep concluded, he suddenly dived into one of the pockets of his new
trousers, and, after considerable difficulty, extricated a silver
dollar.

"Never mind, Pep, you can keep it," said Richard, yet well pleased to
see the urchin's evident desire to right the wrong he had done.

"No, no, it's yours," exclaimed Pep earnestly. "I won't keep it nohow.
And say," he added in a whisper, "I'm awful glad you didn't say nothin'
to me uncle of it. It's de first time I stole anything, and it's the
last, too, and I wouldn't have Uncle Doc or Aunt Betty know it for de
world."

"You can make sure they shall never hear of it," returned Richard, as,
after more urging, he took the coin. "I can understand how desperate
you felt that morning we met at the newspaper office, and we'll let
the whole matter drop."

"Thank you, sir."

And Pep felt much relieved.

"You must come up Sunday," put in Frank. "Come up to dinner, same as
you were going to."

"Thank you, Mr. Massanet, I will," replied Pep. "My uncle expects both
of you down soon, too."

And they separated, Pep being on his way to Frying Pan Court to get
a few treasured belongings that still remained there.

Early the following morning Richard and Frank started for the store
together. It was a clear, but windy day, thick clouds of dust flying
in all directions. As they passed the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a fire engine dashed past, on its way down the street.

"Hello! there's a fire somewhere!" exclaimed Frank.

"Can we go to it?" cried Richard. He had not yet seen a conflagration
in the city, and was anxious to see how such a thing would be handled.
Frank looked at his watch.

"We've got twenty-five minutes," he replied. "Come on; if it's in the
neighborhood we can take a look at it."

Both boys started off on a run. They reached Spruce Street, and followed
the engine around the corner.

A dense volume of black smoke greeted them.

The crowd was thick, and the two had hard work making their way forward.

"_It's our place!_" cried out Frank suddenly. "And the whole store
is afire, too!"

"Our place!" ejaculated Richard. "Oh, I hope not!"

But it was only too true, and in a moment they stood opposite the
establishment of Williams & Mann, now all blaze from top to bottom.

"Stand back there!" exclaimed a burly policeman, waving his club at
both boys. "Stand back."

"We work in the place," explained Frank.

"Can't help it," was the reply. "The insurance patrol has charge of
the goods. You'll have to get out of the way. Lively, there!" added
the officer, as a hook and ladder truck came dashing up the street.

So Richard and Frank fell back into the crowd, and were immediately
joined by Bretzwartz, the German shipping-clerk.

"I guess the place is a goner," remarked Frank, as the flames shot out
of the upper windows.

"Wonder how it caught?" said Richard.

"Der poiler in der pasement busted," put in Bretzwartz. "I chust come,
and vos putting on mine odder coat ven I heard an explosion vich knock
me mine feets off, and I rund out like I vos killed, and der whole
place was on fire in two seconds already."

"Was Larry killed?" asked Frank.

Larry was the engineer and porter around the place.

"No, he vos out, getting a pite to eat," replied the shipping-clerk.

Despite the efforts of the firemen, the flames made rapid progress,
and in an hour the "fireproof" building was known to be doomed. Both
of the heads of the firm had been sent for, and Mr. Williams soon put
in an appearance.

He was pale and excited, and shook his head sadly when his many
employees offered their services in any way they could be used.

"We can do nothing at present," he said. "The insurance companies have
entire charge."

"I hope you are covered, Mr. Williams," said Richard earnestly.

"Very nearly so," was the reply. "The stop to business will be our
worst loss. There is no telling when we will be able to resume. I only
trust the accounts in the safes are all right."

By noon the fire was under control. It had burnt itself out, and all
that remained of the establishment was its four scorched walls, and
the mass of half burned stock and fixtures within. Part of the stock
had been saved, and this was transferred to an empty store near by.

The boys assisted in this work until late in the evening, and also all
day Saturday.

In the middle of Saturday afternoon Mr. Mann came to them and paid
them their week's wages.

"You had both better find other places," he said. "We have got into
difficulty with the insurance companies, and it may be some time before
our claim is adjusted. Besides, Mr. Williams speaks of retiring, and
in that case I will probably join some other firm,"

This was dismaying news. Yet neither could blame Mr. Mann, though it
threw them both out of employment without notice.

"You may help us here next week," went on Mr. Mann. "But next Saturday
will finish the job. I will give both of you first-class
recommendations, and if I hear of any openings will let you know."

And Mr. Mann went away to carry his news to the other clerks.

"It's too bad," said Frank, when he was gone. "It won't be an easy job
to find another place."

"No, indeed," replied Richard. "Still, we can't complain of the way
they have treated us."

Both of the boys wore sober faces that night. To Richard came the ever-
recurring, thought, what next?




CHAPTER XXVIII.

A LUCKY RESOLVE.


"Well, Richard, we are gentlemen of leisure now."

It was Frank who spoke, and the occasion was the Monday morning
following their final week with Williams & Mann.

"Yes; but it doesn't suit me in the least," returned Richard. "To be
idle is the hardest work I can do. Have you anything in view?"

"Not a thing. I put in twelve applications last week to as many
different houses, but as yet I haven't heard from a single one."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I hardly know. I don't think it will pay to make any personal
applications."

"I'm going to try it," returned Richard, resolutely. "They can't say
any more than no, and each no will save just two cents in postage if
nothing else."

"When do you intend to start out," asked Frank, who could not help
admiring Richard's pluck.

"In about an hour. It is too early yet to catch the heads of the firms."

"Going to start at any particular place?"

"Yes."

"Where?--or perhaps you don't care to tell," added Frank hastily.

"Yes, I do," replied Richard, smiling quietly. "I am going to try the
stationer on the corner."

"Who? Martin? Why, he has such a small store I'm sure he doesn't need
help. He and his son and a boy do all the business."

"Never mind. I made up my mind to stop at every place, and his is the
first on the route; so I'll call, if only for the principle of the
thing."

"That's an idea!" cried Frank. "You are bound to have a place if there
is a single one vacant. Well, Dick, I trust with all my heart that
you'll succeed," he added warmly.

"You had better start out, too, Frank."

"Oh--I--I don't think it's much use," said the other hesitatingly.

"Oh, yes, it is, and you know it. Now confess that it is only your
lack of 'nerve' that keeps you from it."

Frank colored slightly.

"Well, I guess it is," he admitted. "I never was a good hand at
approaching people."

"Then you ought to break yourself in at once. Just break the ice and
you'll have no further trouble. I remember just how bad I felt when
I first came to New York to look for work. But I'm over it now, thank
goodness!"

And truth to tell in the past few weeks Richard had lost much of his
former shyness.

Frank Massanet was silent for a moment.

"I guess I will," he said finally. "I'll start out and have the thing
over at once. Which way do you intend to go--up or down?"

"I thought I would try down town first."

"Then I'll go up. We can compare notes at supper-time."

"So we can. I hope we both have luck," said Richard.

But he did not feel particularly elated over the prospects. His former
search for employment had convinced him that desirable situations were
rarely to be had--there was always some one on hand to fill a vacancy
as soon as it occurred.

He felt, however, that he must obtain employment of some kind, and
that quickly. The small amount of money he had in hand would not last
him long, and though kind-hearted Mrs. Massanet might be willing to
let him remain awhile without paying board, he knew that now, with her
son idle, the good woman could not afford so generous a course.

Richard had not gone to see Mr. Joyce as yet. He hesitated for several
reasons. In the first place the leather merchant had been so kind to
him that the boy felt it would be encroaching upon good nature to
solicit further aid, and in the second place, Mr. Joyce must know he
was out of a place, and would help him if he could, without being
bothered about it.

"I won't go to him until after I've done all I can for myself," had
been Richard's conclusion. "I would rather show him that I can help
myself."

Richard had written home about the fire, and had added that he would
probably lose his place in consequence, but he had not sent word home
that he was now idle, thinking it would be time enough to do so when
he found himself unable to obtain another situation.

The store to which Richard had referred was a small but neat one,
situated upon the corner of the street in which the Massanets lived
and Second Avenue. It was kept by Jonas Martin, an elderly man, and
his son, James. The stock consisted principally of books and stationery,
although the proprietors also kept papers and magazines, for which
there was a steady daily demand.

"I suppose there is hardly any use in striking him," thought Richard,
as he entered the store. "But I said every place, so here goes."

He found the elderly Mr. Martin behind a desk, writing a letter. The
storekeeper's face wore a troubled look.

"Good-morning," began Richard. "Is this Mr. Martin?"

"That's my name," was the reply. "What can I do for you?"

"I am looking for a place, sir. I worked for Williams & Mann, but they
burned out, as, no doubt you know, and that threw me out of work. Have
you anything open? I can furnish good recommendations."

Richard had carefully rehearsed this little speech, and now delivered
it so that his hearer might understand every word that was uttered.

Mr. Martin looked at him sharply, and then rubbed his chin reflectively.

"What made you think I needed help?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know, sir. Every proprietor needs help at one time or
another, and I've made up my mind to find a place if there is any
open."

"You have recommendations, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

And Richard handed over those he had received from Williams & Mann.

Mr. Martin read them carefully.

"It seems to be all right," he said, as he handed back the paper. "If
I thought you would answer my purpose I would look you up."

"Then you need help?" asked Richard, quickly, glad to think he had
struck an opening with so little trouble.

"Yes, I do. My son James who helps me is sick in Philadelphia, and
consequently I have only the errand boy to relieve me. It is too much
for me and I must get a clerk."

"I would like you to try me," said Richard eagerly. "I would do my
best to suit, even if the place was only a temporary one."

"It might be permanent. The business is growing. But of course when
my son came back I could not pay a clerk so much."

"How much would you pay now?"

"How much do you expect?" asked Mr. Martin cautiously.

"I was getting eight dollars a week at my last place."

"I would be willing to pay that. But I want some one who is trustworthy
and willing to learn. Have you other recommendations?"

"I can refer you to Mr. Timothy Joyce," replied Richard; and he wrote
down the leather merchant's name and address on a bit of wrapping
paper.

Mr. Martin looked at the neat handwriting.

"Come round to-morrow morning this time," he said. "I will look up the
references this afternoon and if I find them satisfactory you can come
to work at once."

"Thank you, sir. Good-morning."

By this time there were two customers waiting, so not wishing to detain
the storekeeper longer. Richard nodded pleasantly and left the place.




CHAPTER XXIX.

FRANK'S IDEA.


"That's what I call luck!" thought Richard, as he hurried back to the
Massanets' home. "I'm mighty glad I called on Mr. Martin. He seems to
be a gentleman and will no doubt do what is right. I hope Frank has
been equally fortunate."

Mrs. Massanet was surprised to see him returning so soon.

"What ees eet?" she asked, anxiously. "I hope you no deesheartened
a'ready?"

"No, indeed!" returned the boy; and he told her of his good fortune.

"Zat ees nice!" exclaimed the Frenchwoman. "I hope you gits zee place
widout trouble."

And then she gave a little sigh as she thought of her son's uncertain
search.

"Maybe Frank will be as lucky," said Richard, who fancied he could
read her thoughts.

"I sincerely hope so," returned Mrs. Massanet.

Not having anything special to do for the rest of the day, Richard sat
down and wrote a long letter home. He intended not to send it until
the following day, when he could add a postscript that the new place
was positively his.

Five weeks in the great metropolis had worked wonders in the boy. He
no longer looked or felt "green," and he was fast acquiring a business
way that was bound, sooner or later, to be highly beneficial to him.

In these five weeks he had received several letters from friends and
not a few from home, the most important news in all of them being the
announcement of his sister Grace's engagement to Charley Wood, and
baby Madge's first efforts to master her A B C's.

"I wish I could afford to bring them all to New York," had been
Richard's thought. "Or else near enough so that I could go home to
them every night. It would be so pleasant to have them around me.
Perhaps some day I can afford to get a little cottage right near the
city, which would be nicest of all; for I am sure mother would like
to have a garden, even if it was a small one."

His letter for home finished, Richard spent an hour or more in the
preparation of an advertisement which he intended to insert in one of
the army journals on the following week. The advertisement gave his
father's full name, company, regiment and so forth, and asked for the
address of any one who had known him during the war, with promise of
reward for information.

By the above it is easy to see that Richard was now in earnest about
getting his father's pension money. Not only was he satisfied that
they were entitled to it, but just now when his mother and sisters
were struggling in Mossvale to make both ends meet, it was actually
needed.

During the time that he had been working Richard had sent home every
cent that he could spare. To be sure, the total amount had not been
large--only a few dollars--but in the country this went a long way,
and for it, as well as for the fact that it showed the son and brother's
willingness to help, those at home were extremely grateful.

It was dinner-time when Richard had finished writing out the
advertisement. Mrs. Massanet had prepared only a lunch, reserving a
regular meal for the evening.

After he had eaten the time hung heavy upon Richard's hands. He put
on his hat and sauntered down the street, and finally concluded to pay
a visit to his friends at the Watch Below. He had not seen Doc Linyard
since that visit to Frying Pan Court, and he was curious to know how
Tom Clover was, and if the property in England had been heard from
further.

It being the middle of the afternoon, trade at the small restaurant
was slack, and Richard found both the old sailor and his wife glad to
see him.

"Tom's mendin' fast," was the old sailor's reply to Richard's question
concerning the sick man. "We are goin' to bring him down here to-morrow
or the day after. He's in his bearings again--right mind, you know--and
I think as how the worst is over."

"And where is Pep?"

"Pep's to school; I sent him last week. He's got to have an eddication,
no two ways on it. Betty's goin' to manage it with Tom when he is
well."

"I am glad to hear that. And how about your property?"

"Oh, it's safe. Last week I run afoul of an old lawyer friend of mine--
saved his life onct in a blow off Cape Hatteras--and he's taken it in
tow. He's written to the lawyers on the tudder side and we're to fix
it up just as soon as Tom's strong enough to sign articles." "Good
enough," said Richard, heartily.

During the course of the conversation which followed he told Doc Linyard
of his hopes of finding some one who had known his father during the
war.

"Tom is an old soldier!" exclaimed Doc. "He took to the army and I
took to the navy."

"Is that so? What regiment was he in?"

"I don't know. He was in Boston at the time, and was drafted from
there."

"My father went from here. But he might he able to put me on some sort
of a track," added Richard, who was unwilling to let even the smallest
chance escape him.

"I'll ask him about it when he's strong enough. How much would the
pension money amount to?"

"Not less than a thousand dollars--perhaps twice that."

"Phew! It's worth workin' for."

"Yes, indeed!" put in Mrs. Linyard. "I hope you get it, Mr. Dare; you
deserve it."

When Richard returned to his boarding-place he met Frank Massanet at
the door. He could see by his friend's face that he had not met with
success.

"I tried twenty-six places," reported Frank. "Every one had all the
help needed. One man offered to put me on the road, selling goods on
commission, but I was to pay my own expenses. The offer didn't appear
good and I declined it. How did you make out?"

Richard told him. Of course Frank was surprised.

"It wasn't luck though," he said, "it was sticking to the principle
you started out on. I trust it is a sure thing. It will give you an
insight into the retail trade, so that you may start for yourself some
day. I would start in for myself to-morrow, if I had the capital."

"Do you understand the retail business?" asked Richard, with much
interest.

"Pretty well. Last year and around the holidays I tended during the
evenings for a firm on Fourteenth Street, and I had a good chance to
learn all the ins and outs. Besides, I was in the business when I went
to school--carrying papers and parcels between school-hours."

"How much would you need to start?"

"I've got six hundred dollars saved. If I had twice that I wouldn't be
afraid to hire a store and try it."

"Can't you raise the other?"

"I haven't tried yet. I would rather use my own money--or take a
partner, if I could find the right fellow."

"I'd like to go in with you," said Richard. "I think we would get along
first-rate together."

"I know we would," cried Frank, enthusiastically. "Can't you raise the
money?"

"I don't think I can. I'll think of it though."




CHAPTER XXX.

MR. MARTIN'S CLERKS.


The idea of some day going into partnership with Frank Massanet was
an attractive one to Richard. He felt that the stock-clerk would not
venture into business on his own account unless he was moderately
certain of success, and that would mean more money and a certain feeling
of independence.

Richard was up early on the following morning and on hand at Mr.
Martin's store long before that gentleman put in an appearance. He
found the place in charge of the boy, who was busy sorting out the
morning papers and folding them.

"I'm waiting for Mr. Martin," said Richard, by way of an explanation
for standing around.

"Are you the new clerk?" asked Philip Borne, for such was the boy's
name.

"I expect to be," replied Richard. "Did Mr. Martin say anything about
me?"

"Said he expected to see you this morning. He'll be here in about half
an hour. He's terribly worried over his son Jim, who's sick in
Philadelphia. The doctors telegraphed last evening that they were
afraid he couldn't live."

"It's too bad. I trust, for Mr. Martin's sake, they are mistaken."

In less than half an hour the proprietor put in an appearance. He
looked even more worried than the day previous.

"I am glad you are here, Dare," he said. "I saw Mr. Williams last night
and he gave you a good recommendation. But he was almost afraid you
had not had enough experience in the retail trade to take charge, which
just at present you would have to do, because I must go to Philadelphia
by the first afternoon train by the latest."

Richard's hopes fell.

"I will do the best I can, Mr. Martin," he said, earnestly. "Although
I'll admit I thought to come here only to help, and--"

"Yes, yes, I understand; and that is all right," interrupted the
storekeeper, hastily. "I expected to stay, up to last night, but now
I must go. If I could only get some one here besides you, some one who
understood customers. Phil can help some, but he is too young."

"I know the very person!" exclaimed Richard. "He has had just the
experience you desire, and I can get him at once, too."

And Richard told Mr. Martin about Frank Massanet.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Williams mentioned him to me. Do you think he can come
to-day?"

"Yes, sir. I'll go at once and find out."

"Do so; I'll promise that you shall lose nothing by it," returned Mr.
Martin.

In a moment Richard was on his way back to the house. He found Frank
just finishing breakfast.

"Why, what's up?" asked the stock-clerk. "What brings you back?"

"Nothing only--I've got a situation for you," replied Richard as coolly
as he could, although he could not suppress a hearty smile.

"A situation for me!" ejaculated Frank, in undisguised wonder. "Surely
you don't mean it!"

"Don't I though? Just come along and see."

"Where?"

"At Martin's."

"But I thought you had accepted--"

"One position. So I have, but there is another for you. Come along,
I'll tell you all about it on the way."

And Richard got Frank's hat and put it on his friend's head and had
him out on the street almost before he could realize it.

At Mr. Martin's store a general explanation followed, and Richard and
Frank were hired at a joint salary of sixteen dollars per week. They
were to have entire charge of the business, and with the aid of Phil
were to do the best they could until they heard from Mr. Martin again,
which the storekeeper hoped would be in a few days. The proprietor
spent an hour in giving all the instructions he could in that limited
time, and then, half distracted, hurried off to catch an early train
for Philadelphia.

"Well, this is a queer go, to say the least," exclaimed Richard, after
Mr. Martin had gone. "It's more like a dream than anything else."

"He would never do as he has--leave two entire strangers in charge of
his place--if he was not distracted by this bad news about his son,"
returned Frank; and he hit the exact truth.

"Well, now we are here, we must make the most of the opportunity,"
said Richard. "Let us consider ourselves partners and push _our_
business for all it is worth."

Both boys started in with a will. The first customer was a little girl,
and both Richard and Frank desired the honor of waiting upon her.

But the girl wanted a cent's worth of red chalk, and as neither could
find the article in demand the would-be purchaser was turned over to
Phil, who in turn handed the cash to Frank, while Richard gravely made
the entry upon the daily sales-book.

But the two set diligently at work, and by evening had the stock fairly
well located in mind and also the prices. During the day trade had
been fairly brisk, and when closing up time came they found they had
taken in twenty-eight dollars.

"I don't know if that's good or bad," said Richard. "We certainly sold
goods to all who wished them."

"The thing is to sell to those who don't know whether they want to buy
or not," observed Frank. "Still I guess twenty-eight dollars is fair
enough for Tuesday."

Both were on hand early next morning. According to Mr. Martin's
instructions the show-windows were emptied, and after they had been
cleaned, Frank, assisted by Richard, dressed them again.

Now, Mr. Martin's window dressing had always been of the plain, old-
fashioned kind, not altogether suited to the present times. He only
put in a few staple articles and left them unchanged for a long time.

But Frank Massanet proceeded on different lines, and when he and Richard
had finished the improvement was apparent. Nearly every class of goods
in the store was represented, and anything new or special was given
a prominent place.

"That looks hot," said Phil, who was given to slang. "Never saw it so
showy before."

And the many people who stopped to gaze at the display seemed to justify
his statement.

"How often should a window like that be cleaned?" asked Richard.

"At least once a week," replied Frank. "And twice a week is not too
much, if you have the time to spare."

Both Richard and Frank worked diligently all day. Of course many things
were strange to them, and they made some laughable blunders; but they
invariably took things so pleasantly that none of the customers seemed
to mind.

When night came they found that they had taken in five dollars more
than the day previous.

"It's on account of fixing up the window," said Richard.

"Partly that, and partly getting used to customers and the run of
stock," replied Frank.

They were soon on the way home. Richard had sent his letter to his
mother the day previous, and was now expecting one in return.

"Here is your usual letter," said Mattie Massanet, appearing at the
door.

"Thank you," replied Richard. "Excuse me if I look at it at once. I
want to see if it contains anything important."

Richard tore the letter open and began to read. His eyes had glanced
over scarcely a dozen lines when he uttered a cry of dismay.

And no wonder, for the communication contained the startling
intelligence that fire had visited Mossvale, the Dare cottage was
burned to the ground, and his mother and sisters were left without a
home.




CHAPTER XXXI.

TOM CLOVER'S STATEMENT.


The news from Mossvale was certainly a cruel blow to Richard, and, as
he read the letter written by his sister Nancy, his cheeks paled.

"What is it?" asked Frank, seeing that something was wrong. "No one
dead, I hope."

"No, not as bad as that," replied Richard faintly; "but bad enough.
Read it."

Frank took the letter and glanced at it hastily. The important passages
ran as follows:

"It is awful news. Our home is burned to the ground, and I am writing
this at Mrs. Wood's where we are all staying. The fire started in the
barn (we think a tramp must have done it), and the wind carried the
sparks over to the house, and in ten minutes it was all ablaze. It was
one o'clock at night, and no one was around to help us. Mother, Grace
and I saved all we could, but that was not much, because we did not
have time, and it got so awfully hot. When the fire was out, Charlie
made us all go over to his house, and sent a team over for what stuff
we had saved.

"Mother is awfully excited, and Grace is sick over it. Madge is all
right, and so am I. But I think it's awful, and I don't know what we
are going to do. Mrs. Wood and Charley, are very kind, but we can't
stay here very long, even if Grace is engaged to Charley.

"Mother says there is an insurance on the house and furniture for nine
hundred dollars, but she hasn't been able to find the papers yet, and
maybe they have been burned, too. If you can, come down right away.
I suppose they don't like to let clerks off in New York, but they ought
to make an exception in a case like this."

Frank handed the letter over to his sister Mattie.

"I'm sorry for you and your folks, Dick," he said earnestly. "Of course
you'll go at once."

"How can I?" replied Richard helplessly. "Mr. Martin will--"

"Never mind Mr. Martin," interrupted Frank. "Your first duty is to
your family. I'll get along as best I can, and I'll explain to Mr.
Martin if he gets back before you do."

"But what will you do for meals? You must have time to get them?" went
on Richard, anxious lest his friend should be assuming too much.

"He can take lunch along, and I'll bring him his dinner," put in Mattie.
"You go, Dick; your mother and your sisters need you."

Richard needed no further urging. Whatever Mattie said must certainly
be right. He glanced at the clock.

"Quarter to ten. I wonder when I can get a train?" he cried.

A consultation of a time-table showed that no train for Mossvale could
be had until nine-thirty the next morning.

"It's too bad!" he groaned. "I could have taken one just an hour ago
if I had known."

There was nothing to do, however, but wait, and so Richard retired
with the rest.

He passed a sleepless night, thinking over what had happened, and
trying to form some plan for the future. But he could arrive at no
conclusion, and found that he must wait until he had talked the matter
over with the others.

He was the first one up in the morning, and, having over three hours
yet to wait, took a walk around to the store to see what Phil was
doing.

"There is a telegram for you; just came," said the boy, and he handed
it over.

"More news from home," thought Richard. "But we have no telegraph
office. Wonder what it means?"

And he tore the telegram open.

It ran as follows:

"PHILADELPHIA, _June_ 28.

"RICHARD DARE:

"My son is dead. Close store until further orders.

"JONAS MARTIN."

Richard had just finished reading the dispatch when Frank came up.

"You are ahead of me," said Frank. "What have you there?"

"Word from Mr. Martin. His son is dead, and we are to close the store
until further notice."

Here was more sad news. Phil, who had known young Mr. Martin well, and
liked him, felt it the most.

"It will break old Mr. Martin all up," he said sadly. "He thought a
heap of his son. The two were alone in the world."

"I can get away easily enough now," said Richard, with a sorry little
laugh. "I won't hurry back as soon as I intended. You must write me
if anything turns up."

In less than an hour the store was closed up, a death notice pasted
on the door, and then Frank accompanied Richard down to the ferry.

On the corner of Liberty Street they met Pep, who started back in
surprise.

"I was just comin' up to see you!" he exclaimed to Richard. "My uncle
wants you to come right down!"

"Wants me to come down?" queried Richard. "What for?"

"Don't know exactly. Dad's there, and they both want to see you. You'd
better go right away; but maybe you _was_ going," added Pep suddenly.

"No, I wasn't. I was going to take a train home," replied Richard.
"Perhaps it's nothing in particular."

He had an hour before train time, and, accompanied by Frank, walked
down to the Watch Below.

Doc Linyard greeted him cordially. He was surprised to see Richard
dressed up, and grieved to learn of the cause.

"Well, I'm glad as how _I_ ain't got no bad news to tell you," said the
old sailor with a grin. "Tom Clover is upstairs, in his right mind, and
wants to see you."

"What about?" "Never mind, just go up," replied Doc.

On a comfortable bed, in an upper chamber, lay Tom Clover. Good care
and nursing had done wonders for the man, and when Richard looked at
him he could hardly realize that this was the miserable wretch he had
visited in the garret at Frying Pan Court.

"Here's Mr. Dare come to see you," said Doc Linyard, by way of an
introduction.

Tom Clover grasped Richard's hand tightly.

"Betty and Doc have told me all about you," he said in a somewhat
feeble voice. "I thank you more than I can put in words. Sit down; I
want to talk to you."

"I would like to, Mr. Clover, but I've got to catch a train for home
in three quarters of an hour," replied Richard. "I'll call as soon as
I get back."

"Just stay a little while," urged Doc Linyard. "Tom's got something
to say to you."

"Doc tells me your father was a soldier in the late war?" went on Tom
Clover.

"Yes, sir."

"Did he once live in Brooklyn?"

"Yes, sir. But--" and Richard paused, while his heart beat rapidly.

"And was his first name John?"

"Yes, sir--John Cartwell Dare. But why do you ask, Mr. Clover? Is it
possible that you knew him?"

Tom Clover raised himself up to a sitting position.

"Know him?" he cried. "We were bosom companions for eighteen months!
Why, I caught him in my arms the day he was shot!"




CHAPTER XXXII.

THE FIRM OF MASSANET AND DARE.


Tom Clover's unexpected statement was a revelation to Richard, and
subsequent questioning convinced the boy that all that Doc Linyard's
brother-in-law had said concerning the acquaintance with his father
was perfectly true.

It was a fact that Clover had been drafted in Boston, but during the
second year of his service his time had expired, and then he had
enlisted in a Brooklyn regiment, and become a member of the same company
to which Mr. Dare belonged.

"It seems too good to be true," cried Richard finally. "Perhaps Doc
has already told you of the pension we are trying to get."

"Yes, and I can witness the papers easily enough, and get several
others to, too, if it's necessary. Have you got them here in the city?"

"No; they are home. But I can soon get them, and either bring them or
send them on."

This was agreed to, and it was with a much lighter heart that Richard,
a quarter of an hour later, bade Frank good-by at the ferry.

"Send the papers to me," said Frank at parting. "I haven't anything
to do at present, and will attend to the affair with pleasure."

"Thank you, Frank, I will," was Richard's reply.

The journey to Mossvale was an uneventful one. When Richard reached
the Wood cottage all the family ran out to meet him, and in a second
his mother's arms were about his neck.

"I'm so glad you have come, Richard!" she cried. "We need you sadly."

Presently he was seated in the doorway, with little Madge on his knee,
and the others gathered around, and there he listened to all they had
to tell.

The insurance papers had been found, but Mrs. Dare was undecided whether
to rebuild or accept the cash.

"We could not get back such a nice home as we had for nine hundred
dollars," she said. "And, besides, Sandy Stone has offered me two
hundred dollars for the land, and that's a good price, Mr. Wood says."

"Did you save father's pension papers?"

"Yes. But why do you ask?" inquired Mrs. Dare, her curiosity aroused.

For reply Richard told the little party all about his strange meeting
with Tom Clover.

"He tells the truth!" cried Mrs. Dare. "I have heard your father mention
his name. Thank heaven for having brought you two together!"

And that night, even with all their troubles, the whole Dare family
rested without much worry beneath their kind neighbor's roof.

In the morning Richard sent the pension papers to Frank by the first
mail. Then he helped get what was left of their furniture into shape,
and took a walk over to what had been the old homestead.

Nothing remained but a heap of charred timbers and fallen stones.

"It's the ending of our life here in the country," he whispered to
himself. "God grant it may be the beginning of a more prosperous one
in the city."

At the close of the week came visitors--Frank, Doc Linyard, and a
strange gentleman, who was introduced as Mr. Styles, the old sailor's
lawyer friend.

"Mr. Styles says your claim is all right," said Doc Linyard, when
introductions all round were over. "He says as how you'll get
twenty-five hundred dollars afore three months are up."

It was glorious news.

"Sure?" asked Mrs. Dare, with tears in her eyes.

"Positive, madam," replied Mr. Styles. "I will buy the claim for two
thousand dollars if you need the money," he whispered.

"No, thank you; I can wait," she replied. "But I will pay you well for
what you have done for us," she added hastily.

"Avast there!" cried the old sailor. "Tom and I are going to settle
his claim. We're going to get our money in one month--two thousand
dollars each!"

A little while later Frank drew Richard to one side.

"I've heard from Mr. Martin," he said. "Since his son died he has lost
all interest in his business, and he wants to sell out and go back to
his family in England."

"Sell out?" repeated Richard in surprise. "It would be a good chance
for us."

"So I thought; a chance that may not happen again in a lifetime. He
has been established twelve years, and has a good run of trade. Last
year his sales amounted to twelve thousand dollars. The rent is only
seven hundred dollars a year, and he has a three years' lease."

"How much does he ask?"

"If he can sell out before the first he will do so at the cost of the
stock--fifteen hundred dollars. Now, by hard scraping I can raise half
of that, and if you can raise the other half, and a little extra
besides, I believe it will prove a good venture."

Richard thought a moment.

"If my mother will advance the money I'll do it," he replied.

         *       *       *       *       *

Two years have passed.

As Mr. Styles had predicted, at the end of three months Mr. Dare's
pension money was in the widow's possession. Long before this, however,
Mrs. Dare sold her land in Mossvale, and removed with her family to
New York, having apartments adjacent to Mrs. Massanet, with whom she
was soon on intimate terms. She advanced the necessary money to Richard,
and he and Frank Massanet immediately bought out Mr. Martin's store
and set up business on their own account.

Doc Linyard and Tom Clover now run a prosperous hotel and restaurant
in the lower part of the city, where their old friends are always
welcome. Pep attends school regularly, and thoroughly appreciates his
improved condition in life.

Grace Dare has gone back to the country, and in her Charley Wood has
found an affectionate wife and a good housekeeper. Next month Nancy
is to become Mrs. Massanet. As for Mattie Massanet, she is often seen
to blush when Richard's name is mentioned, and rumor has it that she
will some day give her heart into the keeping of her brother's partner.

And Mr. Timothy Joyce? Only last week I met him at a Third Avenue
Elevated Station, looking as stout and hearty as ever.

"Just come down on the train," he replied, in answer to my question.
"Been making a call on Massanet & Dare, the stationers and booksellers.
They are young friends of mine, Dare especially, and I take a great
interest in them. Since they fixed up this spring they've got a fine
store, and I know they're doing first-rate. They deserve it,
too--working as hard as they do. They've got my best wishes for
success."

And ours, too; eh, reader?

THE END.