Mrs. Dean had taken entire charge of the invalid and the house, and so many of the neighbors insisted on aiding her that Gladys and Seth were pushed aside as if they had been strangers.

At midnight, when one of the volunteer nurses announced that Aunt Hannah was resting as comfortably as could be expected under the circumstances, Gladys, in obedience to Mrs. Dean's peremptory command, went to bed; but Seth positively refused to leave the kitchen.

"Somethin' that I could do might turn up, an' I count on bein' ready for it," he said when the neighbor urged him to lie down. "Snip an' I'll stay here; an' if we get sleepy, what's to hinder our takin' a nap on the couch?"

So eager was the boy for an opportunity to serve Aunt Hannah that he resolutely kept his eyes open during the remainder of the night lest the volunteer nurses should fail to waken him if his services were needed; and to accomplish this he made frequent excursions out of doors, where the wind swept the "sand" from his eyes.

With the first light of dawn he set about effacing so far as might be possible all traces of fire from the kitchen, and was washing the floor when Mrs. Dean came out from the foreroom.

"Well, I do declare!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Hannah Morse said you was a handy boy 'round the house, but this is a little more'n I expected. I wish my William could take a few lessons from you."

"I didn't count on gettin' the floor very clean," Seth replied modestly, but secretly delighted with the unequivocal praise. "If the oil and smut is taken off it'll be easier to put things into shape."

"You're doin' wonderfully, my boy, an' when I tell Hannah Morse, she'll be pleased, 'cause a speck of dirt anywhere about the house does fret her mortally bad."

Seth did not venture to look up lest Mrs. Dean should see the joy in his eyes, for to his mind the good woman could do him no greater service than give the invalid an account of his desire to be useful in the household."Is Aunt Hannah burned very much?" he asked, as the nurse set about making herself a cup of tea.

"I allow it'll be a full month before she gets around again. At first I was afraid she'd broken some bones; but Mrs. Stubbs declares it's only a bad sprain. It seems that she had a headache, an' came for the camphor bottle, when she slipped an' fell against the table. The wonder to me is that this house wasn't burned to the ground."

Then Mrs. Dean questioned Seth as to himself, and his reasons for coming into the country in search of work; but the boy did not consider it necessary to give any more information than pleased him, although the good woman was most searching in her inquiries.

Then Gladys entered the kitchen, and the two children made preparations for breakfast, after Seth had brought to an end his self-imposed task of washing the floor.

Mr. Dean came over to milk White-Face, and Seth insisted that he be allowed to try his hand at the work, claiming that if Aunt Hannah was to be a helpless invalid during a full month, as Mrs. Dean had predicted, it was absolutely necessary he be able to care for the cow.The old adage that "a willing pupil is an apt one" was verified in this case, for the lad succeeded so well in his efforts that Mr. Dean declared it would not be necessary for him to come to the Morse farm again, so far as caring for the cow was concerned.

Very proud was Seth when he brought the pail of foaming milk into the kitchen with the announcement that he had done nearly all the work, and Gladys ran to tell Aunt Hannah what she considered exceedingly good news.

During the next two days either Mrs. Dean or Mrs. Stubbs ruled over the Morse household by virtue of their supposed rights as nurses, and in all this time Seth had not been allowed to see the invalid.

Gladys visited the foreroom from time to time, reporting that Aunt Hannah was "doing as well as could be expected," and Seth had reason to believe the little woman's suffering would now abate unless some unexpected change in her condition prevented.

The neighbors sent newspapers and books for Gladys to read to her aunt during such moments as she was able to listen, and while the girl was thus employed Seth busied himself in the kitchen, taking great pride in keeping every article neat and cleanly, as Aunt Hannah herself would have done.

Then came the hour which the boy had been looking forward to with mingled hope and fear. He had fully decided to tell all his story to the little woman who had been so kind to him, and was resolved that the unpleasant task should be accomplished at the earliest opportunity.

It was nearly noon; the good neighbors were at their own homes for a brief visit, and Gladys came from the foreroom, where she had been reading the daily paper aloud, saying to Seth:

"Aunt Hannah thinks I ought to run out of doors a little while because I have stayed in the house so long. There isn't the least bit of need; but I must go, else she'll worry herself sick. She says you can sit with her, an' I'll take Snippey with me, for he's needing fresh air more than I am."

Just for a moment Seth hesitated; the time had come when he must, if ever, carry his good resolutions into effect, and there was little doubt in his mind but that Aunt Hannah would insist upon his leaving the farm without delay once she knew all his wickedness.Gladys did not give him very much time for reflection. With Snip at her heels she hurried down the road, and Seth knew he must not leave the invalid alone many moments.

Aunt Hannah's eyes were open when he entered the foreroom, and but for that fact he might almost have believed she was dead, so pale was her face. The bandaged hands were outside the coverings, and Seth had been told that she could not move them unaided, except at the cost of most severe pain.

"I knew you would be forced to come when Gladys went out, and that was why I sent her. We two—you an' I—need to have a quiet chat together, and there is little opportunity unless we are alone in the house."

Seth's face was flushed crimson; he believed Aunt Hannah had come to the conclusion that he must not be allowed to remain at the farm any longer unless he confessed why it had been necessary to leave New York, and his one desire was to speak before she should be able to make a demand.

"I ought'er——"

He stammered and stopped, unable to begin exactly as he desired, and the little woman said quietly, but in a tone which told that the words came from her heart:

"You have saved the old home, an' my life as well, Seth. Even if I had hesitated at making you one of the family, I could not do so now, after owing you so much."

"Don't talk like that, Aunt Hannah! Don't tell 'bout what you owe me!" Seth cried tearfully. "It's the other way, an' Snip an' I are mighty lucky, if for no other reason than that we've seen you. Wait a minute," he pleaded as the invalid was about to speak. "Ever since you got hurt I've wanted to tell everything you asked the other day, an' I promised Snip an' myself that I'd do it the very first chance. If it——"

"There is no need of your tellin' me, my child, unless you really think it necessary. I have no doubts as to your honesty, and truly hope that your wanderings are over."

"We shall have to go; but I'm bound to tell the truth now, 'cause I know you think I was tryin' to steal somethin' when we were only goin' to run away so's you wouldn't know what I've done."

"My dear boy," and Aunt Hannah vainly tried to raise her head, "I never thought for a single minute that you came downstairs for any other purpose than to leave the house secretly."

"An' that's jest the truth. Now don't say a word till I've told you all about it, an' please not look at me."

Then, speaking hurriedly lest she should interrupt him in what was an exceedingly difficult task, Seth told of the advertisement, of the counterfeit money he had unwittingly passed, and of his flight, aided by Teddy and Tim.

"I didn't mean to do it," he concluded, amid his sobs; "but I reckon I'd tried to get rid of it some time, 'cause I couldn't afford to lose so much money. Of course they'll put me in jail, if the detectives catch me, an' if I should be locked up for ever so many years, won't you let Gladys take care of poor little Snippey?"

"Come here an' kiss me, Seth," Aunt Hannah said softly. "I wish I could put my hand on your head! And you've been frightened out of your wits because of that counterfeit nickel?" she added when he had obeyed. "You poor little child! If you had told me, your troubles would soon have come to an end; but you must understand that in this world the only honest course is to atone for your faults, rather than run away from them. The good Book says that 'your sins shall find you out,' and it is true, my dear, as true as is every word that has come to us from God. But I'm not allowin' that you have committed any grievous sin in this matter. Do you know, Gladys read your story in the paper before I sent her for a walk, and that is why I wanted to be alone with you."

Seth looked up in surprise which was almost bewilderment, and Aunt Hannah continued with a bright smile that was like unto the sunshine after a shower:

"Take up the newspaper lying on the table. I told Gladys to fold it so you might find the article I wanted you to read."

Seth did as she directed, but without glancing at the printed sheet.

"Can you read, dear?"

"Not very well, 'cause I have to spell out the big words."

"Hold it before my eyes while I make the attempt. There isn't very much of a story; but it will mean a great deal to you, I hope."

Seth was wholly at a loss to understand the little woman's meaning; but he did as she directed, and listened without any great show of enthusiasm to the following:

Messrs. Symonds & Symonds, the well-known attorneys of Pine Street, are willing to confess that they are not well informed regarding the character of the average newsboy of this city, and by such ignorance have defeated their own ends. Several days ago the gentlemen were notified by a professional brother in San Francisco that a client of his, lately deceased, had bequeathed to one Seth Barrows the sum of five thousand dollars. All the information that could be given concerning the heir was that he had been living with a certain family in Jersey City, and was now believed to be selling newspapers in this city. His age was stated as about eleven years, and he owed his good fortune to the fact that the dead man was his uncle.

"It is not a simple matter to find any particular street merchant in New York City; but Messrs. Symonds & Symonds began their search by advertising in the newspapers for the lad. As has been since learned, the friends of the young heir saw the notice which had been inserted by the attorneys, and straightway believed the lad was wanted because of some crime committed. The boy himself must have had a guilty conscience, for he fled without delay, carrying with him into exile a small white terrier, his only worldly possession. The moral of this incident is, that when you want to find a boy of the streets, be careful to state exactly why you desire to see him, otherwise the game may give you the slip rather than take chances of being brought face to face with the officers of the law."