"Yes," answered Jed coolly, "it is the kid. I have called upon Mr. Claflin, and also at the office of the Tribune. Probably you can guess what I was told at both places."

Mr. Barry felt that he was in a tight place, but reflecting that Jed was only a boy, he determined to bluff him off.

"I don't know what you are talking about, boy," he said. "I know nothing of Mr. Claflin, and have nothing to do with the Tribune office."

"I am aware of that, but you gave me a letter of introduction to H. B. Claflin, and borrowed two dollars of me, promising to pay me when you settled with the Tribune for editorial contributions."

"There is not a word of truth in this," said Barry, fidgeting in his chair.

"I have been listening to your conversation for fifteen minutes," continued Jed, "and I heard you give an account of the matter to your friend here."

Barry hesitated a moment. Even his brazen hardihood was scarcely adequate to the emergency. He was the more uneasy because a policeman was sitting at the next table but one.

"It was only a practical joke, boy," he said hurriedly. "I'll pay you back the two dollars."

"That will be satisfactory," returned Jed.

"But I can't do it to-day. I'll meet you on Monday afternoon, as I said. I am in rather a hurry now and must be going."

He rose from the table precipitately, and went up to the desk followed by his friend.

"Shall I stop him?" thought Jed.

He decided not to do so, as he felt sure Barry could not pay him. The loss was not a serious one, but it would not do to make a second mistake. He paid his check and left the restaurant.

Jed knew very little of New York, even for a country boy. Some Scranton people doubtless had visited the great city, but, as an inmate of a poorhouse, he had not been thrown in their way. Accordingly he was like a mariner without a compass. He could only follow where impulse led.

He turned into Broadway, and with his gripsack in his hand walked up the great thoroughfare, looking in at shop windows as he strolled along. Travelling in this leisurely manner, it was perhaps four o'clock when he reached Union Square.

He was by this time fatigued and ready to rest on one of the benches which he found in the park. One person was sitting there already. It was a slender young man with a diamond ring on one of the fingers of his right hand. At least it looked to be a diamond.

He was dressed in rather a showy manner. He was perhaps twenty-two, but so slender that he must have weighed a dozen or fifteen pounds less than Jed, who was only sixteen. He looked casually at the country boy as the latter sat down, and presently turned and addressed him.

"It is a warm day," he said.

"Yes," answered Jed, who felt lonely and was glad to be social with some one.

"I judge from your bag," he glanced at the gripsack, "that you are a visitor to New York."

"Yes," answered Jed frankly. "I have never been in New York before."

"That was my case two years ago. Now I feel quite like an old resident. Are you staying at a hotel?"

"No; that is what I should like to ask about. I must spend the night somewhere. Can you recommend a cheap hotel?"

"Why do you go to a hotel? No hotel is cheap in the long run. It is much better to hire a room in a lodging-house and take your meals at restaurants."

"Yes, I suppose it would be. But I don't know where to find such a lodging-house."

"Come, I'll make you an offer. I have a room on Twenty-Seventh Street. You shall pay for my supper, and I will let you stay in my room without charge till to-morrow. Then if you like it well enough to room with me, I shall be glad to have you."

"Thank you; how much do you pay for your room?"

"Four dollars a week. That will be two dollars a piece. That is cheap for the city. You can't get a room at a hotel for less than a dollar a night."

"Is that so?" asked Jed. "That would be seven dollars a week."

"Precisely."

"I couldn't afford to pay that."

"There is no reason why you should. I couldn't afford it myself. Well, do you accept my offer? Do just as you please. Of course I have no motive except to give a helping hand to a stranger in the city."

"You are very kind," said Jed gratefully. "I know so little of New York that I feel quite helpless."

"Quite natural. I've been through it all."

"Are you—in business?" rather wondering how his companion should be free at that hour.

"Yes, I am in a broker's office down town. We have easy hours. I am off for the day at three o'clock."

"Are you well paid? But perhaps you don't care to tell."

"Oh, yes, I don't mind. I get twenty dollars a week."

"I wish I could get twelve," said Jed wistfully. "I shall have to get work soon."

"You have some money to keep you while you are waiting for work?" said the other quickly.

"Yes. I have about thirty-five dollars."

The young man's face brightened up.

"I am glad for you," he said. "You can make that last a good while, if you are guided by me, and keep down your expenses."

"That is exactly what I want to do," responded Jed earnestly.

"Oh well, I will put my experience at your service. I hope you will conclude to room with me. I feel rather lonesome at times. Of course I could easily get a roommate, but I am rather particular."

"You might not like me," said Jed.

"I am sure I shall. I can tell in five minutes whether I am going to like a person or not. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Indeed! You look older. That's going to help you, you know, about a situation. You can pass for a young man, and they won't think of offering you boy's pay."

"Perhaps you will be able to advise me about the kind of place I had better apply for."

"Of course I will. I already begin to take a great interest in you. What kind of work have you done?"

"Well, I have acted a little."

"You don't say so!" ejaculated his new friend in genuine surprise, for he had looked upon Jed as an unsophisticated country boy who probably had never seen the inside of a theatre. "I suppose you mean," he suggested as an afterthought, "in some village entertainment."

"No; I played in 'The Gold King' for some time."

"You don't say so! What part did you take?"

"The boy's part."

The young man regarded Jed with more respect.

"I shouldn't have thought it," he said. "How did you happen to get such a fine chance as that?"

"I knew one of the actors—Harry Bertram—and the one who played the boy's part regularly was taken sick. I only played about four or five weeks all together."

"Still that makes you a regular actor. Do you think of trying to get a place at Daly's or Palmer's?"

"Oh, no. I don't suppose I should stand any show. I could only take a boy's part."

"Well, we can talk over our plans later. I don't mind confessing that I am hungry. How about yourself?"

"I think I could eat some supper."

"Come along, then. I'll take you to a good restaurant. It's some way off, but it is near my room."

"All right."

The two rose, and leaving the park, walked up Broadway, past the Fifth Avenue Hotel, the Hoffman House, and the St. James, till they reached a well-known eating-house known as Smith & Green's, situated on the east side of Broadway, between Twenty-Seventh and Twenty-Eighth Streets.

"Come in here. I won't take you to Delmonico's, a little further down, as you haven't a private bank to draw from. This is a nice restaurant and moderate in its charges."

They entered, sat down at a round table and studied the bill of fare. The prices seemed to be moderate. Jed's dinner cost thirty-five cents, but his companion was more lavish in his orders, and ran up a bill of sixty-five cents.

"That makes just a dollar," he remarked.

It seemed considerable to Jed, who decided that he would rather order and pay for his own meals separately hereafter.

During the repast Jed learned that his new friend's name was Maurice Graham.

"Now we'll go around to my room, and you can dispose of your gripsack."

"I shall be glad to do so. I am tired of carrying it about."

Graham led the way to a three-story brick house near Seventh Avenue, and mounted to a small square room on the upper story. It was plainly furnished with a three-quarters bed, a bureau, and the usual chamber furniture.

"You can leave your bag anywhere, and then we will go out for a walk."

"I think I would rather stay here and lie down."

"All right! Make yourself at home. I will go out. Shall probably be back by ten."

When Graham returned at a little past ten he found Jed in bed and fast asleep. His eyes sparkled with pleasure.

He raised Jed's clothes from the chair on which he had thrown them and went through the pockets expeditiously. Poor Jed's small stock of money was quickly transferred to his own pockets.

"He hasn't any watch," soliloquized Graham. "That's a pity."

When his search was completed he put on his hat again.

"I shall sleep in Jersey City to-night," he said to himself. "That will be safer."

He went out softly, leaving Jed alone, the victim of a cruel trick.