Scott opened the letter, which proved to be brief. It was dated at the Sherman House, Chicago, and ran thus:

"I am called away suddenly on business, and may be absent for a month. Should you need to consult me on any subject, direct to me here, as letters will be forwarded if I am absent from the city.

Cousin Seth."

Scott showed the letter to Mr. Wood.

"I shall be glad to make the acquaintance of Mr. Lawton," said Justin. "He is evidently a good friend of yours."

"If he were here now he might get me a place. I don't stand much chance myself."

"I must see if I can't find some temporary work for you to do. Suppose we take an ice cream. Do you know any good place near by?"

"There is one on Sixth Avenue."

"Very well, we will go there."

Scott led the way to the place already referred to, frequented by his cousin, Loammi. When they entered, Scott saw Loammi seated at a table in the rear part of the saloon.

He espied the new arrival, and was evidently surprised to meet Scott in such a place.

"Hello, Scott!" he called out.

"Good-evening, Loammi," returned Scott, coolly.

"Goin' to take an ice cream?"

"Yes."

"I say, are you working yet?"

"Not yet."

"Then how can you afford to buy ice cream?" Loammi was about to ask, but the presence of Justin Wood checked him. Mr. Wood was handsomely dressed, and looked like a man of means.

"I wonder where Scott picked him up," thought Loammi. He wished to be introduced, but Scott did not give any encouragement in that direction.

Loammi, having no good excuse to stay, rose and left the saloon.

"So that's your cousin?" remarked Justin Wood.

"Yes."

"He looks sly. I am something of a judge of faces, and I don't like his."

"I suppose I am prejudiced against him," said Scott. "I don't think I could ever like him."

Scarcely had Loammi left the saloon, when Scott was surprised to see Ezra Little and his wife enter.

Mrs. Little first caught sight of Scott, and spoke in a low tone to her husband.

Ezra Little, turning his glance in the direction of Scott, eyed him severely.

"So this is where you spend your ill-gotten money," he said, not noticing that Scott was in the company of the fashionably dressed young man sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Justin Wood, "but it is my money that is being spent."

"I was not aware that you were in the boy's company," said Ezra Little, respectfully, for he saw that Mr. Wood was a gentleman of social position. "I must explain that your companion left my house a week since under discreditable circumstances."

"He told me the circumstances. You assumed that the money he had in his possession was stolen."

"There can hardly be a doubt of it. There was a five-dollar bill—and the missing pocketbook contained a five-dollar bill."

"I am personally cognizant of the fact that the money was his own. Indeed, I helped to recover it for him from a swindler who had robbed him of it."

"This does not explain the pocketbook being found in his chamber."

"Where your son put it."

"This is a strange charge to make, sir. Have you any grounds for making it?"

"Scott and I called at your house this evening. The servant said that an hour before the discovery of the pocketbook your son was seen by her coming out of Scott's room."

Ezra Little looked startled, and Mrs. Little looked distressed.

"Moreover, I think if you inquire, you will find that some of the stolen money was disposed of in this saloon. Your son only went out ten minutes since. Suppose you inquire whether he has changed a five-dollar bill here recently."

"I will do so."

Ezra Little went up to the cashier.

"I understand," he said, "that my son comes in here frequently."

"Yes, sir, he was here this evening."

"Can you call to mind whether you have ever changed a five-dollar bill for him?"

"I did so about a week since. Was there anything wrong about the bill?"

"I only asked out of curiosity."

Ezra was a hard man, but he was not altogether unjust.

"Scott," he said, "I think there may have been some mistake about your taking the pocketbook. If you will call at the store to-morrow, I will see about taking you back."

Scott bowed, but did not speak. He felt that he could never again be contented in Mr. Little's employment.

When they left the saloon he asked: "What do you advise me to do about going back, Mr. Wood?"

"Don't go," said Justin Wood, promptly. "I will stand by you, and see if I can't get you something better."

"Thank you, sir. I don't want to go back if I can help it. But I am glad my innocence has been proved."

"I fancy your cousin will find himself in hot water."

Loammi was already at the house when his father and mother came in. He had no suspicion of trouble, but was eager to tell his father that he had seen Scott.

He did not observe the unusual sternness on Mr. Little's face.

"Pa," he said, "I saw Scott to-night."

"Where did you see him?"

"At an ice-cream saloon on Sixth Avenue. His money seems to have lasted him pretty well."

"What were you doing there?" was his father's unexpected question.

"Getting an ice cream," answered Loammi, in surprise.

"So your money seems to have lasted pretty well also," said his father.

"An ice cream costs only ten cents, pa."

"How many times have you been there within a week?"

"Once or twice, I believe," answered Loammi, wondering what his father meant by his strict cross-examination.

"Are you sure you have not been there every evening?"

"I don't think so."

"Have you ever had a bill changed there?"

"I don't know what you mean, pa."

But Loammi began to fear that he did understand, and he turned pale.

"Where," asked his father, sternly, "did you get the five-dollar bill that you got changed there a week ago to-day?"

"I don't know anything about any five-dollar bill."

Loammi looked frightened.

"Wasn't it the money you found in your mother's pocketbook?"

"But Scott took that, pa. You know the pocketbook was found in his room."

"Yes, by you. You knew just where to look for it, for you concealed it there."

"Oh, pa, who told you any such wicked story about me?"

"Go downstairs and ask Ellen to come up here."

Loammi would willingly have been excused from doing this, but he knew there was no alternative.

When Ellen appeared, Mr. Little said: "Do you remember the evening when the pocketbook was found in Master Scott's room?"

"Yes, sir."

"Had Scott been in his room that evening?"

"I think not, sir."

"Had any one else been in the room?"

"I saw Loammi coming out from the room about half-past eight."

"Oh, what a story!" ejaculated Loammi, in perturbation.

"It is true, sir," said Ellen, firmly.

"I have no doubt of it. That will do, Ellen."

"Now, what have you to say?" demanded Ezra Little, addressing his son. "Did you or did you not take the pocketbook?"

"Yes, sir," answered Loammi, reluctantly.

"And you had the meanness to throw suspicion on your cousin. I am ashamed of you."

Loammi made no reply for the very good reason that he had nothing to say.

"I have myself seen Scott this evening, and I also learned from the keeper of the ice-cream saloon that you changed a five-dollar bill there a week since. I have told Scott to come back to the store. As for you, you deserve to be punished. I shall therefore reduce your allowance from a dollar a week to fifty cents till the sum you stole has been made up. Now, you can go upstairs to bed."

Loammi shed tears of vexation.

"Now Scott will be crowing over me," he thought to himself. "I can't stand it; I think I will run away."

But he was spared this humiliation.

Scott went into Mr. Little's store the next day and sought the proprietor.

"You can come back to work on Monday morning," said Ezra, "and you can go round to the house this evening."

"Thank you, sir; but I have got another place."

"Another place? Where?"

"With Tower, Douglas & Co."

Ezra Little was very much surprised, for the firm mentioned was in the wholesale line and stood very high.

"How did you get there?"

"Mr. Wood, the gentleman that was with me last evening, recommended me."

"Very well," said Mr. Little, curtly. "You will bear in mind that I offered you your position back. Of course, if you lose your new place I can make no promises."

"Then I will try not to lose it."