Justin Wood smiled as he saw how unconscious Lane was of his presence. Then he walked forward quietly and laid his hand on Lane's arm.

"Mr. Lane," he said, "this is an unexpected pleasure."

Lane turned quickly, and looked very much disconcerted when he saw who it was that accosted him.

"I—I didn't expect to meet you here," he stammered.

"I presume not. Don't you recognize this boy?"

"Scott Walton?"

"Yes; I am glad you have not forgotten him. He is here on business."

"On business?"

"Yes; in a fit of absence of mind you relieved him of fifty dollars, or the equivalent in English bank notes. I don't say anything about the considerably larger sum which you took from me in London, for I can stand the loss, but this boy is poor and wants the money back."

"I can't give it to him," said Lane, desperately.

"Why not?"

"Because I have spent most of it."

"So you have spent nearly fifty dollars in one day?"

"Yes; I bet on the races."

"That was foolish. If you had lost your own money it would have served you right. But you had no business to squander the boy's money in that way. How much money have you got left?"

"I—don't know."

"Out with your pocketbook, man, and find out," said Wood, impatiently.

As Lane still hesitated, Justin Wood added, sternly: "Do as I tell you, or I will arrest you myself and march you to the station house."

The young man looked as if he were quite capable of carrying out his threat, and Lane very reluctantly took out his pocketbook.

"I have twelve dollars," he said.

"Then give ten dollars to the boy, and keep two dollars for yourself."

"It is all the money I have," whined Lane.

"That is no concern of mine. The money doesn't belong to you."

"I am a very poor man."

"You are smart enough to make a living by fair means. If you keep on as you are doing now, you will obtain your board at the expense of the State."

Lane, very unwillingly, handed two five-dollar bills to Scott.

"We are letting you off very easy," said Justin Wood. "We will give you a chance to reform, but if ever I catch you trying any of your tricks elsewhere, I will reveal what I know of you."

Crawford Lane rose from his chair and with a look of chagrin made haste to leave the hotel. He had already taken dinner there, and intended to remain until the next day, but now he felt unable to do so.

"I am glad to get some of my money back," said Scott, in a tone of satisfaction. "I was reduced to sixty cents. Ten dollars will last me for a good while."

"Take care not to let your worthy relative know you have so much money, or he will want you to give it up to him."

"But for you I should not have recovered it," said Scott, gratefully.

"I am very glad to have been the means of your getting it back. I have a personal grudge against that rascal."

"Of how much did he rob you?"

"I can't tell precisely, for I am rather careless about my money, and seldom know just how much I have. To the best of my knowledge he must have taken about three hundred dollars."

"That is a good deal of money."

"It was much less to me than the sum he took was to you. It did not especially inconvenience me. But it is getting late, and we had better take the next boat back to New York."

This they did. On the same boat, though they were unconscious of it, was Crawford Lane. He saw them, however, and reflected bitterly that the fifty dollars which he had taken from Scott was nearly all gone, though it was only the second day since he got possession of it.

It was half-past four when they reached the Gilsey House.

"I think I must be getting back to my new home," said Scott. "Thank you very much for your kindness to me."

"You have given me a pleasant day, Scott," replied the young man, genially. "Call and see me again when you have time."

"Thank you, sir."

When Scott reached the house in West Forty-seventh Street, he found Loammi already there. He had returned from school at about half-past two, and wondered what had become of his new-found cousin.

"Where have you been?" he asked, abruptly.

"First, I went to Central Park, and afterward I went to Staten Island."

Loammi looked surprised.

"What could take you to Staten Island? You seem to have plenty of money to go about with."

"It didn't cost me anything."

"How is that?"

"I went with a gentleman who lives at the Gilsey House."

"What made him take you? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Yes, he is a friend of mine, though I haven't known him long."

"Is he rich?"

"He seems to be."

"You might introduce me."

"I may have an opportunity to do so some time."

Scott felt obliged to say this, though he was convinced that Justin Wood would not care to make his cousin's acquaintance.

"Ma told me you were not at home to lunch. Where did you eat?"

"We dined at a hotel on Staten Island."

"Upon my word, you are getting to be quite a swell for a poor boy."

Scott smiled.

"I don't think I shall have much chance to be a swell," he said, "after I have begun work in the store."

"No, I guess not. It was a great thing to have pa take you up and give you a home."

"I hope to show my appreciation of it," said Scott; but under the circumstances, his gratitude was not as deep as if he had had a better room, and had not been obliged to give up all his money to his relative.

"How do you like your room?"

"The bed seems comfortable. Where is your room?"

"On the second floor. Follow me and I will show it to you."

Scott followed his cousin upstairs. Loammi opened the door and led the way into a large chamber about eighteen feet square, very neatly and comfortably furnished.

There was a bookcase in one corner containing over a hundred volumes. Near it was an upright writing desk. Through a half-open door Scott saw a closet well filled with suits of clothes. Certainly, there was a great contrast between this apartment, with its comforts and ample accommodations, and his own small, stifling room on the floor above. Scott could not quite suppress a feeling of envy.

"You have a fine room."

"Haven't I? My room is as nice as pa's."

Alongside of it was another room, not as large, but perhaps two-thirds the size.

"Who occupies that room?" asked Scott.

"No one. We have two spare rooms on this floor."

It naturally occurred to Scott to wonder why he had not been given one in place of the poor room that had been assigned him.

He found afterward that Mrs. Little had proposed giving him the room next to Loammi, but the latter had objected, saying that it was too good for a penniless boy. In this he had been backed up by Ezra Little, whose ideas agreed with those of his son.

At six o'clock the family assembled for supper.

"You will sit down to meals with us when we are alone," said Ezra Little. "When we have company you can eat in the kitchen."

Scott said nothing, but his face flushed. It was evident that his relatives did not look upon him as a social equal.

Yet Justin Wood, who, as Scott suspected, stood higher socially than the Little family, treated him like a brother. Though in no way related to him, Scott felt a greater regard for him than for any of the family with whom he had found a home.

"To-morrow is Saturday," said Ezra Little, as he rose from the table. "I had not intended to have you enter the store till Monday, but there is a little extra work to be done, and you can come in to-morrow."

"I should like to do so," said Scott, promptly.

"So you like to work," said Loammi, sneeringly.

"Yes; at any rate, I like it better than being idle."

"That is a very proper feeling," observed Ezra, approvingly.

"Yes," put in Loammi. "You ought to do all you can to pay pa for his kindness to you."

Scott did not answer, but he thought his young cousin about the most disagreeable boy he had ever met.