Three days passed, and nothing more had been seen of Stephen Palmer in his step-mother's humble home.

"I hope he'll keep away," said Paul. "His coming can do no good, and gives no pleasure to any of us."

"I agree with you, Paul, though it seems hard to say that of one of the family."

"He has never behaved like one of the family," said Paul.

"He was a wayward boy, and even at an early age gave considerable trouble to his father and myself."

"He hasn't improved as he has grown older, mother."

"I am glad you are not like him, Paul."

"Then I am not altogether a nuisance," said Paul, laughingly.

"You are my main support—the staff on which I lean, my dear son. You have always been a good boy.""The staff will be stronger some day, mother," said Paul, cheerfully. "I am not always going to have you spoil your eyes by sewing."

"I feel better to be doing something. That reminds me—I have just finished some work for Miss Framley. Do you think you can carry it after supper?"

This conversation took place at the tea-table.

"Certainly, mother; you know I always go out for a walk, and I can just as well go to Mr. Framley's as anywhere else. How much am I to collect on it?"

"A dollar and a half, I think, won't be too much. It has taken me four days."

"You ought to charge more, mother. Think of a dollar and a half for four days' work! Why, it won't half pay you," said Paul, indignantly.

"I don't dare charge more, Paul, or the Framleys will give me no more work. I was recommended to her by her friend, Miss Cutler, as one who would work cheap, and in the only interview I had with her she impressed this upon me as a matter of great importance."

"Is she poor? Does she need to grind you down to such low prices?"

"No; she lives in an elegant house on Wabash avenue, and she is always dressed in the most costly style. No doubt she has plenty of money at command."

"Then she can't be a lady," said Paul, decidedly.

"She certainly thinks herself so," said Mrs. Palmer. "Her father is a man once poor, and still uneducated, who made a good deal of money during the war, and is now ambitious to live in style."

"Shoddy!" said Paul, contemptuously. "That explains it."

"Nevertheless I am glad to obtain work from them, Paul."

"Provided they will pay a reasonable price. You had better let me charge two dollars, mother."

"No, it will not do. I shall be satisfied with a dollar and a half."

"Very well, mother. Of course it is for you to decide."

Paul finished his supper, and, taking the bundle, made his way—partly by walking, partly by riding—to Wabash avenue.

The houses on this avenue were handsome, and looked like the abodes of luxury.

"I wish mother could live here," said Paul to himself. "It makes me discontented with our poor home, after seeing so much elegance."

At last he reached the house of Mr. Framley, whose daughter has already made her appearance in our story as the economical patron of art.

Paul ascended the steps and rang the bell.

The summons was answered by a man-servant, who surveyed Paul with an air of lofty superiority.

"Well, young feller," he said, "what have you got there?"

"A bundle of work for Miss Framley, old feller!" answered Paul.

"Was you addressin' me?" demanded the flunkey, angrily.

"I was."

"I am not an old feller."

"Young feller, then, if you like it better."

"You are an impertinent boy."

"I have no business with you," said Paul, coolly. "Take that bundle to your mistress, if you please, and say to her that the bill is one dollar and a half."

"You can call for the money some other time," and the servant was about to close the door, when Paul said, sharply:

"That won't do, I can't come here twice. Tell Miss Framley what I said."

The servant retired, grumbling, and soon returned with a dollar bill, which he offered to Paul.

"Miss Framley says the work isn't extra well done, and a dollar's enough. You can take it and go."Paul's eyes flashed with justifiable indignation.

"I should like to see Miss Framley," he said. "This won't do."

"She won't see you. Better take the money and go."

"I will take the money—on account, but not in full payment. I wish to see Miss Framley."

That young lady was listening at the head of the stairs, being desirous of hearing whether the messenger made any fuss about her mean reduction of a reasonable price, and thought it best to descend the stairs and argue the matter.

"Are you the son of Mrs. Palmer?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Framley."

"Then tell your mother she asks too much for her work. A dollar is quite enough for the little she did."

"Do you know how long she was occupied with your work?" said Paul.

"No; I suppose she did it in a day or two," answered the young lady, in a tone of indifference.

"It occupied four days, and you wish to pay her at the rate of twenty-five cents per day."

"Really, it is nothing to me if your mother is a slow worker. I oughtn't to suffer for that."

"Wasn't the work well done?"

"Tolerably well.""My mother is noted for her excellent work, Miss Framley. She is entitled to one dollar and a half for this piece of work, and that isn't enough. If she had taken my advice, she would have charged you two dollars."

"Really, you are a very presuming boy," said Miss Framley. "My friend, Miss Cutler, told me your mother would work cheap, and so I employed her. If she is contented with a dollar, I will send her some more work."

"She will not be contented with a dollar," said Paul, firmly. "I insist upon the price named."

Miss Framley drew out her purse, and, taking a half-dollar from it, with a spiteful air handed it to our hero.

"There," she said, "take it, but don't expect me to employ your mother again."

"I don't," said Paul. "Good-evening."

"It is absolute extortion," said the economical young lady, as she went up stairs again. "It is very provoking, for Mrs. Palmer sews exquisitely. If I hold off for awhile, I may bring her to my terms. Twenty-five cents a day is a very fair price for such easy work as sewing, in my opinion."

"Well," thought Paul, as he bent his steps homeward, "there are certainly some mean people in the world. Evidently Miss Framley is rich, but I wouldn't be as mean as she for all her money."

He wasn't far from home when, in passing one of the brilliantly lighted stores on Clark street, his attention was drawn to a young lady just descending from a carriage. As the light fell upon her face, he recognized his traveling acquaintance of a few days before.

"Miss Dearborn!" he cried, hastening forward with a pleasant smile of recognition.

Grace turned.

"Why, it is my friend of the train!" she said, cordially. "Aunt Caroline"—for Mrs. Sheldon was just behind her—"this is Paul Palmer, who tried to save my purse from the pickpocket."

"It is a pity he had not succeeded, Grace. I presume the unprincipled man has spent most of it by this time."

"Very likely," said Grace, with a laugh. "Well, Paul, have you met with any more adventures, or rescued any more young ladies from the schemes of dangerous men?"

"I have not had a chance, Miss Dearborn."

"But I don't doubt you would be ready. How is my namesake?"

"She is very well. She was delighted with your present.""I am glad of that. Can you spare five minutes, or are you in a hurry?"

"Oh, no, I have plenty of time."

"Then come into this store with me."

Paul followed Grace, wondering a little why she made the request. When he came out he carried in his hand a very pretty child's cloak which Miss Dearborn had purchased.

"Give it to your little sister, with my love," she said.

"How generous you are, Miss Dearborn! Grace won't be able to sleep tonight for joy."

"Be sure you remember your promise to bring her around to see me."

"Thank you. Will the evening do? I am on the train during the day."

"Come next Thursday evening—I will expect you."

"There is some difference between Miss Dearborn and Miss Framley," thought Paul.