When the Arcturus arrived in port, Scott placed himself in charge of Mr. Lane, and accompanied that gentleman on shore. He congratulated himself on having a competent guide.

He was struck by the bright and bustling appearance of the great American metropolis, and, English though he was, he was fain to admit that it was more attractive than London.

Scott had but one gripsack, but in this respect Crawford Lane was no better off.

"I just took a brief trip across the water," he explained, "and I don't believe in being hampered with baggage."

"Then you were not gone long?" said Scott.

"No; I just ran across in company with an old college friend. He will be absent several months, but I could not spare the time from my business."

"Have you anything which a boy of my age could do in your office?" asked Scott, who felt that he must now be on the search for a place.

"Not at present. My business is of a peculiar nature. I travel for a large house. But I will keep my eyes open, and if I should hear of anything I will most certainly let you know."

"Do you expect anyone to meet you at the pier?"

"No, I never say much about my movements. My friends can wait till I get fairly established in a hotel."

Scott was somewhat amazed when his new acquaintance conducted him to a very plain house on the Bowery.

"I don't care for style," remarked Lane, observing Scott's surprise, "and though I could afford to go to the most expensive hotel in the city, I know that your means are limited, and I wish to select one in which you can afford to remain with me."

"Thank you, Mr. Lane; you are very considerate. I haven't much money, and I must be economical."

"I will step up to the desk and arrange about rooms," added Lane.

"Thank you."

Crawford Lane left Scott sitting in the reading room, but he returned in five minutes.

"I find," he said, "that the hotel is crowded. I have engaged a single room with two beds. Will that be agreeable?"

Scott felt that he would have preferred to room alone, but he did not know how to make objection, and acquiesced in the arrangement.

"I would like to go upstairs at once," he said, "so that I may wash and change my underclothing."

"Very well."

They were shown up by a bell boy. The room on the third floor was rather small, but contained two single beds.

The place and its furnishings looked dingy, and even dirty, but Scott was not disposed to make any unnecessary complaint.

"I will take the bed near the door, if you don't object," said Lane.

"It is immaterial to me."

"Very well. By the way, didn't you say you had some Bank of England notes to exchange for American money?"

"Yes."

"While you are making your toilet, I might slip down to a broker's in Wall Street, and make the exchange. What do you say?"

Scott had his share of caution, and he remembered that his knowledge of Mr. Lane was very limited. Indeed, on reflection, it occurred to him that his sole knowledge of his acquaintance was derived from that gentleman himself.

"I think," he said, "that I will wait till to-morrow. I have a little silver with me that will do me till then."

"Oh, very well!" said Lane, in an indifferent tone, though his face expressed some disappointment. "I only thought that I might save you some trouble."

"Thank you, but I don't mind the trouble. I shall be interested to see Wall Street myself."

"All right, I will go there with you to-morrow, or whenever you choose."

"I should not like to take up your time. Probably you have business of your own to occupy you."

"Oh, I can get through a good deal of business in a short time. When you are ready, come downstairs. You will find me in the office."

Left to himself, Scott took a good wash and put on some clean linen, which he found refreshing. He divided his bank notes into two parcels, one of which he put in his inside coat pocket, the other in an inside pocket in his vest.

He took the hint from his father's custom.

In twenty minutes he was ready to go downstairs. He found Crawford Lane awaiting him in the office.

"Shall we go in to dinner now, Scott?" said his new friend, familiarly.

"Yes," answered Scott, for, grieving though he did over his father's loss, he had the appetite of a healthy boy.

The dinner was plain, and the table neither neat nor attractive, but Scott felt that he had no right to be fastidious, and upon the whole ate heartily.

"Now, shall we go for a walk?" suggested Lane.

"If you like."

Lane led the way to Broadway, pointing out various buildings and objects of interest.

"What do you think of New York?" he asked.

"This seems a very lively street."

"Yes, there is but one Broadway in the world."

"But London is larger."

"Yes, but less attractive."

"I hope I can find something to do. Then I shall be contented."

"Don't borrow any trouble about that. I have influence, and will see that you find employment," said Lane, patronizingly.

"You are very kind, Mr. Lane."

"I mean to be. I hope you will look upon me as a friend—and a brother."

These words were kind, but Scott hesitated to respond. He had seen no occasion to distrust his companion, but for some reason, unaccountable to himself, he could not give him his confidence.

They sauntered up Broadway till they reached Waverly Place. Just at the corner they attracted the attention of a boy of perhaps fifteen, who seemed to recognize Scott's companion.

He was a dark-haired, pleasant-looking boy, whose face seemed to indicate German descent.

"Mr. Lane," he said, touching Scott's companion on the arm.

Crawford Lane wheeled round and eyed the boy as if disconcerted.

"What do you want, boy?" he demanded, haughtily. "I don't know you."

"Oh, yes, you do. My name is John Schickling."

"I haven't the honor of knowing you, Mr. John Schickling," said Lane, in a tone of sarcasm.

"You know me well enough," said the boy, persistently.

"Just as you like, but I have no time to spend with you to-day. Pass on and let me alone," said Lane, impatiently.

"I will as soon as you pay me what you owe me."

"Why, you impudent young rascal, how should I owe you anything?"

"You hired a room from my mother at three dollars a week, and you went off owing three weeks' lodging, if you will give me nine dollars I will give you a receipt."

"This is ridiculous nonsense. I never lived in three-dollar rooms."

"All the same you had a room at our house for several weeks at the price. I have been looking for you every day since you left us."

"Boy," said Crawford Lane, "I have just returned from Europe, and therefore cannot have roomed in your house. If you have any doubt on the subject, my young friend here will tell you that we arrived in New York this morning on the ship Arcturus."

"That may be," rejoined John; "but it is two months since you left our house. You have had time to go to Europe and back."

"I can't be troubled with you to-day, boy. Get out of my way!"

"Where can I find you? Where are you stopping?"

Crawford Lane drew a card from his pocket, and scribbling an address on it, passed it to the boy. While John Schickling was trying to make it out, Lane hurried on with Scott.

"Fifth Avenue Hotel!" repeated Johnny. "Why, that's a very dear place. If Mr. Lane can afford to stay there, he can afford to pay mother's bill."

Later in the day John entered the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and went up to the desk.

He showed the card to the clerk.

"Is any gentleman of that name staying here?" he asked.

"No," answered the clerk, shaking his head.

"Has he ever stopped here?"

"No; I should remember the name if he had."

"Sold again!" said Johnny. "If I ever meet Mr. Lane now, he won't get off so easily."

"That is a very impudent boy!" said Lane, as he resumed his walk with Scott.

"I thought him a pleasant-looking fellow. Didn't you know him?"

"Never saw him before in the whole course of my life!"

"It is strange," mused Scott. "He called you by your name."

"Did he? I didn't observe."

"Yes."

"Then he must have overheard you addressing me."

"But he met us. He was not walking behind us."

"I can't undertake to explain it," said Lane, shrugging his shoulders. "The boy is evidently very artful. It is a put-up job."

Scott made no comment, but he had been favorably impressed by John Schickling's open, frank face, and he felt some doubts about relying on Lane's explanation.