What’s the matter?” asked the bootblack, noting the swift change in Bernard’s face.

“That man—he is after me!” ejaculated Bernard, preparing to move on.

He knew that it would be disagreeable to have an encounter with Professor Puffer and he thought it better to get out of his way.

Whether he could do so was doubtful, as the professor was close at hand.

“I’ll help you,” said the bootblack, “if you’ll give me a shilling. You be here in an hour.”

“All right,” said Bernard, and he started to run.

But by this time Professor Puffer was only ten feet away. He felt that Bernard was within his grasp.

But he did not reckon for the bootblack. The latter advanced to meet the professor, and managed to stumble in front of him so that Puffer, whose legs were short, fell over him, striking forcibly on his face. Meanwhile Bernard was hurrying away.

Professor Puffer got up in a furious rage.

“What are you running over me for?” he demanded, shaking his fist at the bootblack.

The latter began to rub his knees vigorously.

“What are you runnin’ over me for?” he demanded in an injured tone.

Professor Puffer eyed him suspiciously. He hardly knew whether the encounter was premeditated or not, “Did you see a boy rather taller than you dressed in a dark suit? I think you have been blacking his shoes.”

“Yes, I did, and he run away without payin’ me. Is he your boy?”

“Yes. Where did he go?”

“I dunno. You ran over me so that I couldn’t see. Will you pay for the shine?”

“No; he must pay for it himself. But I’ll give you a sixpence if you’ll find him for me.”

“All right! Give me the money.”

“Not now. I’ll wait till you find him for me.”

“I don’t do business in that way, mister.”

“I believe you’re in league with him,” said the professor suspiciously.

“I dunno what that means,” returned the boy innocently. “Don’t you try your long words on me. If he was your boy, what made him run away from you?”

“Because he is a bad lot. He won’t obey me.”

“Ain’t he bad, though?” said the bootblack virtuously. “And you look like such a kind old man, too. He’d ought to be flogged, that he had.”

“I am not so very old,” said the professor quickly; for, like a good many others, he didn’t care to be considered aged.

“That so! You don’t look more’n sixty.”

“I am not near that,” said Puffer. “But that is of no importance. If you’ll help me you will find it for your advantage.”

“I’ll try. S’pose I do find him, where will I find you?”

The professor took out a card and wrote his address on it.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” he said. “If you find Bernard——”

“Is that his name?”

“Yes. Bernard Brooks. If you see him, find out where he lives and come and tell me.”

“What will you do to him, if you catch him?” asked the bootblack, with curiosity.

“Never you mind! I will take him back into my charge. I may send him to a boarding-school.”

“I wish some kind gentleman would send me to a boardin’-school,” said the bootblack, with an angelic expression. “Say, mister, won’t you adopt me?”

“I cannot afford it. Besides, I have trouble enough with the boy I have; but I can’t stand waiting here. You are sure you didn’t see where the boy went?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Somehow that boy continually eludes me,” muttered Puffer, as he walked disappointed away. “I begin to hate him.”

Meanwhile Bernard had not gone very far. He had darted into a narrow street, and, himself screened from observation, watched the interview between the professor and the bootblack. Though he could not hear what was said, he judged that his street friend was not betraying him.

“He has an honest face, though a dirty one,” he reflected. “He has earned the money I promised him.”

When Professor Puffer had disappeared from the scene he crossed to where the bootblack was standing.

“Well,” he said, “so he’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“You had quite a talk with him.”

“Yes. I fooled the old man. He’s goin’ to give me sixpence for lettin’ him know where you live.”

Bernard laughed.

“You can tell him any place you like,” he said.

“Then I’ll tell him you’re boardin’ with Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace.”

“I don’t think he’ll give you sixpence for that.”

“I don’t want any of his money,” said the bootblack contemptuously. “He’s no good.”

“What did he say about me?”

“He says you’re a bad lot.”

“I’ve heard that before. I’d a good deal rather have you for a friend than him.”

“Would you?” asked the bootblack, with an expression of gratification. “What is your name?”

“Dick Sprowl.”

“Then, Dick, there’s my hand.”

“My hand is dirty. You’d better not take it.”

“I don’t care whether your hand is dirty or not. Your heart is all right. There’s the shilling I promised you.”

“You’re a gentleman,” said the bootblack. “Say, you needn’t give me any money as long as you’re my friend.”

“Yes, Dick, take the money, and my friendship, too.”

Bernard returned to the Arundel Hotel in time for dinner.

He met Miss Minerva Smith on the doorstep, waiting for the door to open.

“Well, Bernard,” she said pleasantly, “has anything happened?”

“Yes; I fell in with Professor Puffer.”

“Where?”

“On the Strand.”

“Was the interview a pleasant one?”

Bernard laughed.

“To tell the truth, I didn’t wait to see him.”

Then he told of the professor’s approach, and of his escape by the help of the bootblack.

“You seem to have been fortunate. Have you heard of any position?”

“No,” answered Bernard, shaking his head. “I am not so lucky as that. I am beginning to feel a little anxious. I am not sure but I ought to find a cheaper boarding place.”

“I don’t think you could—that is, a satisfactory one. Perhaps it may not be necessary. In looking over a morning paper I saw an advertisement which might possibly prove of advantage to you.”

“Let me see it!” said Bernard eagerly.

“I will show it to you after dinner.”

“That may be too late.”

“No; the applicant was to call between three and four this afternoon.”

After dinner Miss Smith produced the paper, and called Bernard’s attention to this advertisement.

WANTED—By a young man about to make a voyage for his health, a pleasant traveling companion. Apply, between three and four o’clock this afternoon at Morley’s Hotel, Trafalgar Square.

Walter Cunningham.

“How would that suit you, Bernard?” asked Miss Smith.

“Very well indeed.”

“Then you are not afraid of seasickness?”

“No; in my voyage across the Atlantic I had no trouble in that way. Do you think I shall have any chance of success?”

“I think your appearance would recommend you. The chief obstacle would be your youth. If you were as old as I am—” and she smiled and paused.

“Can’t you lend me a few years, Miss Smith,” asked Bernard.

“I should be only too glad to do so,” replied the schoolmistress; “but I am afraid that is not practicable.”

“Perhaps I should be expected to bear my own expenses,” suggested Bernard. “Of course, that would be out of the question.”

“That is hardly likely. At any rate, you will soon learn all the particulars.”

“Where is Trafalgar Square?”

“Not much over a mile distant. You might take a hansom.”

“I think I will. Otherwise I might fall in with Professor Puffer again, and even if I escaped from him, the delay might prove fatal.”

“Very true. Fortunately, the expense will be trifling.”

Bernard went up to his room and put on a clean collar. He brushed his hair carefully also. His shoes were all right, thanks to his young street friend, Dick Sprowl.

Then he went to the Strand and hailed a hansom.

“I want to go to Morley’s Hotel, Trafalgar Square,” he said. “Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, sir,” answered cabby, with a pitying smile. “I’ll have you there in a jiffy.”

In about fifteen minutes the cab drew up in front of a plain hotel, and the driver assisted Bernard to descend.

Bernard satisfied himself that this was Morley’s Hotel, and dismissing the cab driver he advanced to the entrance. The result of his application would be so important to him that he could not help feeling nervous.