Let us change the scene to the Scranton poorhouse. Mr. Fogson has just come in from splitting wood. It was a task to which he was very much averse, but he had not been able to find any one to fill Jed's place.

"Drat that boy!" he said, as he sank into a chair.

"What boy?"

"Jed Gilman. He ought to be here at work instead of roaming round doing no good to himself or anybody else."

"Perhaps he would be glad to come back. I dare say he has seen the time when he didn't know where his next meal was coming from," rejoined Mrs. Fogson hopefully.

"I hope so."

"I don't know as I want him back," went on the woman.

"I do! He's good for splitting wood, if he ain't good for anything else."

At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and Percy Dixon entered the house.

"How do you do, Master Percy?" said Mrs. Fogson deferentially. "I am always glad to see you enter our humble house."

"We were just talking of Jed Gilman before you came in," added Fogson.

"I saw him two days since," said Percy.

"You did!" exclaimed Fogson eagerly. "Where was he?"

"In the streets of New York. You know I went to the city Tuesday."

"What was he doing—blacking boots for a living?"

"Not much! I wish he was. That boy is about the luckiest chap I ever set eyes on."

"What did he do?" asked Mrs. Fogson curiously.

"Invited me to go on board his yacht."

"What!"

"That's just what he did."

"He was bluffing. He wanted to deceive you."

"No he didn't, for I accepted his invitation and went on board."

"You don't say! Jed Gilman got a yacht!" exclaimed Fogson, his eyes almost protruding from their sockets.

"Well, I don't say it's his, but he acts as if it were. He hired a boat to take me out to the Juno—that's the name of the yacht, and it's a regular beauty—and took me on board and treated me to some lunch. He ordered the men about just as if he were a gentleman."

"Well, of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Fogson, looking surprised and scandalized. "Did he explain how he came to have anything to do with the boat?"

"Yes; he said the owner had taken a fancy to him and was taking care of him."

"Did he say who the owner was?"

"Yes; it's Schuyler Roper, a rich young man living in New York."

"Well, what next?"

"I stayed on board an hour or more, and then went back to the city."

"It seems strange how that boy gets along. Mr. Roper will find him out sooner or later."

"I should say he would. I've written him a letter, and I brought it along, thinking you might like to hear it read."

So Percy read the letter already laid before the reader in the last chapter.

Mr. and Mrs. Fogson nodded delighted approval as Percy read his exposure of Jed's humble past.

"I do say that's about the best-written letter I ever heard," said Mrs. Fogson, as Percy concluded.

"Do you think so?" asked Percy with a gratified smile.

"Think so! I am sure of it. Master Percy, I had no idea you had so much talent. Did it take you long to write it?"

"Oh no, I just dashed it off in a few minutes," answered Percy carelessly.

"You ought to be a lawyer; you do express things so neat. Don't you think so, Simeon?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fogson. I always thought Percy a smart boy. But where are you going to send the letter?"

"To Bar Harbor. Jed said that they were going there in a day or two. I thought Mr. Roper ought to know what a low fellow he has with him."

"Of course he ought. You've only done your duty in informing him against Jed. When are you going to mail the letter?"

"To-night. It'll go off the first thing to-morrow morning."

"I'm very much obliged to you for letting us hear the letter, Master Percy. I expect it'll cook Jed's goose."

"Probably Mr. Roper will send him off as soon as he reads it. I'd just like to be there when it is read."

Percy left the poorhouse and went on his way to the post-office. He sealed the letter, first reading it over again to himself complacently, and inclined to agree with the Fogsons that it was a decidedly clever piece of composition.

He had hardly walked a hundred yards when he met a quiet-looking man of medium height dressed in a gray suit.

"Young man," said the stranger, "am I on my way to the poorhouse?"

"Well, sir," replied Percy jocosely, "that depends on your habits."

The other smiled.

"I see you are a young man of original humor. Is the building used as a poorhouse near by?"

"Yes, sir, that is it," said Percy, pointing to the forlorn-looking dwelling he had just left.

"Thank you, sir," said the stranger, and resumed his walk.

"I wonder what he wants," speculated Percy. "Perhaps he is a relation of Mr. and Mrs. Fogson. I wish I had asked him."

The quiet-looking man was soon at the outer door of the poorhouse, and knocked, for there was no bell.

Mrs. Fogson answered the knock, and surveyed the stranger with some curiosity.

"I believe this is the Scranton poorhouse."

"Yes, sir."

"And you, perhaps, are in charge."

"Yes, sir. Did you wish to see any of the paupers?" asked Mrs. Fogson, thinking that the visitor, who was inexpensively dressed, might be related to some of her boarders.

"First let me inquire how long you have been in your present position, Mrs.——"

"Fogson."

"Exactly, Mrs. Fogson."

"Me and Fogson have been here about a year."

The stranger's countenance fell.

"Only a year!" he repeated. "Who was here before you?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Avery; but the Overseer of the Poor thought there was need of a change, and persuaded me and Fogson to come here."

"Very obliging of you!" murmured the visitor. "Can you tell me how long Mr. and Mrs. Avery were here?"

"Fifteen years."

The stranger brightened up.

"They live in the village—in a small four-room house not far from the post-office."

"Thank you," and the visitor took out a note-book and wrote something in it. He stood a moment silent, and then said, in a hesitating tone, "Is there a boy in the institution named Jed Gilman?"

Instantly the face of Mrs. Fogson expressed surprise and curiosity.

"There was!" she answered, "but he's run away."

"Run away!" ejaculated the stranger, looking disappointed.

"Yes; he was a bad, rebellious boy. Me and Fogson couldn't do anything with him."

"It is very sad," said the visitor with a dubious smile.

"Do you want to see him particular?" asked Mrs. Fogson.

"Yes; I wished to see him."

"Has he got into any scrape?" asked she with malicious eagerness.

The visitor eyed Mrs. Fogson closely, and saw at once that she was Jed's enemy.

"That's about the size of it," he answered. "Of course as you are his friend you would rather not tell me where he is."

"Who said I was his friend? I'll tell you with pleasure. Percy Dixon came and told me only a few minutes since. He's probably at Bar Harbor, or he'll get there some time this week."

"Bar Harbor!" repeated the visitor in evident surprise.

"Yes; he's working for a Mr. Roper—Mr. Schuyler Roper. He went down there on a yacht. If you want to arrest him, or anything, you'd better go down there right off, for Percy Dixon has written to Mr. Roper that Jed was brought up in the poorhouse, and will probably get bounced very soon."

"Thank you very much for telling me, Mrs. Fogson. I am glad you have put me on his track."

"You don't mind telling me what he has been doing?" asked the lady.

"No; I might defeat the ends of justice by doing so."

"Just so!" rejoined Mrs. Fogson. "I do wonder what that boy's done?" she said to herself as the stranger turned into the public road. "Very likely it's burglary, or forgery."