JACK'SV&RD 
 
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LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 \CAUFORNIA 
 
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 ARRt ,, MAC DOHW 
 

THE BOY GUARDIAN. 
 
JACK'S WARD; 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE BOY GUARDIAN. 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, JR., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BAGGED DICK SERIES," "LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES," 
 "TATTERED TOM SERIES," ETC., ETC. 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. 
 
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 Other Volumes in Preparation, 
 
 COP r BIGHT BY A. K . LORING, 1875. 
 
PZL 1 
 
 FRANCIS S. SMITH, 
 
 TJ7-JF "NEW YORK WEEKLY* 
 
 This Volume 
 
 IS INSCRIBED BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 239 
 
PREFACE . 
 
 " Jack's Ward " is founded upon a story which 
 the author published some years since anony- 
 mously. It has been wholly rewritten, con- 
 siderably enlarged, and, it is hoped, improved. 
 I offer it to my young readers in its present 
 form as the second volume of the * * Brave and 
 Bold" Series. I shall have reason to be gratified 
 if it receives as warm a welcome as its prede- 
 cessor. 
 
 YORK, Sept. 6, 1875. 
 
JACK'S WAED; 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE BOY GUAKDIAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JACK HARDING GETS A JOB. 
 
 k< LOOK here, boy, can you hold my horse a few 
 minutes ? " asked a gentleman, as he jumped from his 
 carriage, in one of the lower streets in New York. 
 
 The boy addressed was apparently about twelve, 
 with a bright face and laughing eye, but dressed in 
 clothes of coarse material. This was Jack Harding, 
 who is to be our hero. 
 
 u Yes, sir," said Jack with alacrity, hastening to 
 the horse's head ; " I'll hold him as long as you like." 
 
 "All right! I'm going in at No. 39 ; I won't be 
 long." 
 
 " That's what I call good luck," said Jack to him- 
 
 9 
 
10 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 self. " No boy wants a job more than I do. Father's 
 out of work, rent's most due, and Aunt Rachel's wor 
 rying our lives out with predicting that we'll all be in 
 the poor-house inside of three months. It's enough 
 to make a fellow feel blue, listenin' to her complainin' 
 and groanin' all the time. Wonder whether she 
 was always so. Mother says she was disappointed in 
 love when she was young. I guess that's the reason." 
 
 " Have you set up a carriage, Jack? " asked a boy 
 acquaintance, coming up and recognizing Jack. 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, " but it aint for long. I shall 
 set down again pretty soon." 
 
 " I thought your grandmother had left you a for- 
 tune, and you had set up a team." 
 
 " No such good news. It belongs to a gentleman 
 that's inside." 
 
 " Inside the carriage?" 
 
 "No, in No. 39." 
 
 " How long's he going to stay?* 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " If it was half an hour, we might take a ride, and 
 be back in time." 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 11 
 
 "That aint my style," he said. "I'll stay here 
 till he comes out." 
 
 "Well, I must be going along. Are you coming 
 to school to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, if I can't get anything to do." 
 
 " Are you trying for that ? " 
 
 "I'd like to get a place. Father's out of work, 
 and anything I can earn comes in handy." 
 
 "My father's got plenty of money," said Frank 
 Nelson, complacently. "There isn't any need of my 
 working." 
 
 " Then your father's lucky." 
 
 "And so am I." 
 
 " I don't know about that. I'd just as lieve work 
 as not." 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't. I'd rather be my own master, 
 and have my time to myself. But I must be going 
 home." 
 
 "You're lazy, Frank." 
 
 " Very likely. I've a right to be." 
 
 Frank Nelson went off, and Jack was left alone. 
 Half an hour passed, and still the gentleman, who 
 had entered No. 39, didn't reappear. The horse 
 
12 JACK'S WARD; on, 
 
 showed signs of impatience, shook his head, and 
 eyed Jack in an unfriendly manner. 
 
 "He thinks it time to be going," thought Jack. 
 " So do I. I wonder what the man's up to. Per- 
 haps he's spending the day." 
 
 Fifteen minutes more passed, but then relief came. 
 The owner of the carriage came out. 
 
 " Did you get tired of waiting for me?" he asked. 
 
 " No," said Jack, shrewdly. " I knew the longer 
 the job, the bigger the pay." 
 
 " I suppose that is a hint," said the gentleman, not 
 offended. 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Jack, and he smiled too. 
 
 " Tell me now, what are you going to do with the 
 money I give you buy candy ? " 
 
 4 'No," answered Jack, "I shall carry it home to 
 my mother." 
 
 " That's well. Does your mother need the 
 money?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Father's out of work, and we've got 
 to live all the same." 
 
 " What's your father's business? * 
 
 " He's a cooper." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 13 
 
 " So he's out of work?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, and has been for six weeks. Ifs on 
 account of the panic, I suppose." 
 
 "Very likely. He has plenty of company just 
 now." 
 
 It may be remarked that our story opens in the 
 year 1867, memorable for its panic, and the business 
 depression which followed. Nearly every branch of 
 industry suffered, and thousands of men were thrown 
 out of work, and utterly unable to find employment 
 of any kind. Among them was Timothy Harding, 
 the father of our hero. He was a sober, steady man, 
 and industrious ; but his wages had never been large, 
 and he had been unable to save up a reserve fund, on 
 which to draw in time of need. He had an excellent 
 wife, and but one child our present hero ; but there 
 was another, and by no means unimportant member 
 of the family. This was Rachel Harding, a spinster 
 of melancholy temperament, who belonged to that 
 unhappy class who are always prophesying evil, and 
 expecting the worst. She had been " disappointed" 
 in early life, and this had something to do with her 
 
WARD; o*, 
 
 gloomy views, but probably she was somewhat in- 
 clined by nature to despondency. 
 
 The family lived in a humble tenement, which, 
 however, was neatly kept, and would have been a 
 cheerful home but for the gloomy presence of Aunt 
 Kachel, who, since her brother had been thrown out 
 of employment was gloomier than ever. 
 
 But all this while we have left Jack and the 
 stranger standing in the street. 
 
 "You seem to be a good boy," said the latter, 
 " and, under the circumstances, I will pay you more 
 than I intended." 
 
 He drew from his vest-pocket ft dollar bill, and 
 handed to Jack. 
 
 " What, is all this for me? " asked Jack, joyfully. 
 
 " Yes, on the condition that you carry it home, and 
 give it to your mother." 
 
 11 That I will, sir ; she'll be glad enough to get it." 
 
 "Well, good-by, my boy. I hope your father'll 
 find work soon." 
 
 "He's A trump!" ejaculated Jack. "Wasn't it 
 lucky I was here just as he wanted a boy to hold his 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 15 
 
 horse. I wonder what Aunt Rachel will have to say 
 to that. Very likely she'll say the bill is bad." 
 
 Jack made the best of his way home. It was 
 already late in the afternoon, and he knew he would 
 be expected. It was with a lighter heart than usual 
 that he bent his steps homeward, for he knew that the 
 dollar would be heartily welcome. 
 
 We will precede him, and give a brief description- 
 of his home. 
 
 There were only five rooms, and these were fur- 
 nished in the plainest manner. In the sitting-room 
 were his mother and aunt. Mrs. Harding was a 
 motherly looking woman, with a pleasant face, the 
 prevailing expression of which was a serene cheerful- 
 ness, though of late it had been harder than usual to 
 preserve this, in the straits to which the family had 
 been reduced. She was setting the table for tea. 
 
 Aunt Rachel sat in a rocking-chair at the window- 
 She was engaged in knitting. Her face was long and 
 thin, and, as Jack expressed it, she looked as if she 
 hadn't a friend in the world. Her voice harmonized 
 with her mournful expression, and was equally dole- 
 ful. 
 
16 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 " I wonder why Jack don't come home," said Mrs. 
 Harding, looking at the clock. " He's generally here 
 at this time." 
 
 4 'Perhaps something's happened," suggested her 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 " What do you mean, Rachel?" 
 
 " I was reading in the ' Sun ' this morning about 
 a boy being run over out West somewhere." 
 
 " You don't think Jack has been run over ! " 
 
 "Who knows?" said Rachel, gloomily. " You 
 know how careless boys are, and Jack's very care- 
 less." 
 
 " I don't see how you can look for such things, 
 Rachel." 
 
 " Accidents are always happening; you know that 
 yourself, Martha. I don't say Jack's run over. Per- 
 haps he's been down to the wharves, and tumbled 
 over into the water and got drowned." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't say such things, Rachel. 
 They make me feel uncomfortable." 
 
 " We may as well be prepared for the worst," said 
 Rachel, severely. 
 
 "Not this time, Rachel," said Mrs. Harding, 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 17 
 
 brightly, "for thafs Jack's step outside. He isn't 
 drowned or run over, thank God ! " 
 
 " I hear him," said Rachel, dismally. " Anybody 
 might know by the noise who it is. He always comes 
 stomping along as if he was paid for makin' a noise. 
 Anybody ought to have a cast-iron head that lives 
 anywhere within his hearing." 
 
 Here Jack entered, rather boisterously, it must be 
 admitted, in his eagerness slamming the door behind 
 him. 
 
JACI?S WARD; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE EVENTS OP AN EVENING. 
 
 " I AM glad you've come, Jack," said his mother. 
 4 * Rachel was just predicting that you were run over 
 or drowned." 
 
 " I hope you're not very much disappointed to see 
 me safe and well, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, merrily. 
 " I don't think I've been drowned." 
 
 "There's things worse than drowning," replied 
 Rachel, severely. 
 
 "Such as what?" 
 
 U A man that's born to be hanged is safe from 
 drowning." 
 
 " Thank you for the compliment, Aunt Rachel, if 
 you mean me. But, mother, I didn't tell you of my 
 good luck. See this," and he displayed the dollar bill. 
 
 " How did you get it? " asked his mother. 
 
 " Holding horses. Here, take it, mother ; I war- 
 rant you'll find a use for it." 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 
 
 "It comes in good time," said Mrs. Harding. 
 " We're out of flour, and I had no money to buy any. 
 Before you take off your boots, Jack, I wish you'd 
 run over to the grocery store, and buy half a dozen 
 pounds. You may get a pound of sugar, and quarter 
 of a pound of tea also." 
 
 "You see the Lord hasn't forgotten us," she re- 
 marked, as Jack started on his errand. 
 
 "What's a dollar?" said Rachel, gloomily. 
 " Will it carry us through the winter?" 
 
 " It will carry us through to-night, and perhaps 
 Timothy will have work to-morrow. Hark, that's- 
 his step." 
 
 At this moment the outer door opened, and 
 Timothy Harding entered, not with the quick, elastic 
 step of one who brings good tidings, but slowly and 
 deliberately, with a quiet gravity of demeanor in 
 which his wife could read only too well that he had 
 failed in his efforts to procure work. 
 
 Reading all this in his manner, she had the deli- 
 cacy to forbear intruding upon him questions to 
 which she saw it would only give him pain to reply 
 
 Not so Aunt Rachel. 
 
20 JACK'S WARD; os, 
 
 "I needn't ask," she began, " whether you've got 
 work, Timothy. I knew beforehand you wouldn't. 
 There aint no use in tryin' ! The times is awful dull, 
 and mark my words, they'll be wuss before they're 
 better. We mayn't live to see 'em. I don't expect 
 we shall. Folks can't live without money ; and if we 
 can't get that, we shall have to starve." 
 
 "Not so bad as that, Rachel," said the cooper, 
 trying to look cheerful ; "I don't talk about starving 
 till the time comes. Anyhow," glancing at the 
 table, on which was spread a good plain meal, " we 
 needn't talk about starving till to-morrow with that 
 before us. Where's Jack ? " 
 
 " Gone after some flour," replied his wife. 
 
 " On credit?" asked the cooper. 
 
 "No, he's got money enough to pay for a few 
 pounds," said Mrs. Harding, smiling with an air of 
 mystery. 
 
 "Where did it come from?" asked Timothy, who 
 was puzzled, as his wife anticipated. "I didn't know 
 you had any money in the house." 
 
 " No more we had ; but he earned it himself, hold- 
 ing horses, this afternoon." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 21 
 
 " Come, that* s good," said the cooper, cheerfully. 
 "We aint so bad off as we might be, you see, 
 Rachel." 
 
 " Very likely the bill's bad," she said, with the air 
 of one who rather hoped it was. 
 
 "Now, Kachel, what's the use of anticipating 
 evil? " said Mrs. Harding. " You see you're wrong, 
 for here's Jack with the flour." 
 
 The family sat down to supper. 
 
 " You haven't told us," said Mrs. Harding, seeing 
 her husband's cheerfulness in a measure restored, 
 "what Mr. Blodgett said about the chances for 
 employment." 
 
 "Not much that was encouraging," answered 
 Timothy. " He isn't at all sure when it will be safe 
 to commence work; perhaps not before spring." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you so?" commented Eachel, with 
 sepulchral sadness. 
 
 Even Mrs. Harding couldn't help looking sober. 
 
 "I suppose, Timothy, you haven't formed any 
 plans," she said. 
 
 " No, I haven't had time. I must try to get some- 
 thing else to do." 
 
22 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 "What, for instance?" 
 
 " Anything by which I can earn a little; I don't 
 care if it's only sawing wood. We shall have to get 
 along as economically as we can cut our coat 
 according to our cloth." 
 
 " Oh, you'll be able to earn something, and we can 
 live very plain," said Mrs. Harding, affecting a 
 cheerfulness she didn't feel. 
 
 44 Pity you hadn't done it sooner," was the com- 
 forting suggestion of Rachel. 
 
 "Mustn't cry over spilt milk," said the cooper, 
 good-humoredly. " Perhaps we might have lived a 
 leetle more economically, but I don't think we've been 
 extravagant." 
 
 " Besides, I can earn something, father," said 
 Jack, hopefully. " You know I did this afternoon." 
 
 " So you can," said his mother, brightly. 
 
 " There aint horses to hold every day," said 
 Rachel, apparently fearing that the family might 
 become too cheerful, when, like herself, it was their 
 duty to be profoundly gloomy. 
 
 u You're always tryin* to discourage people, Aunt 
 Rachel," said Jack, discontentedly. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 23 
 
 Rachel took instant umbrage at these words. 
 
 " I'm sure," said she, mournfully, " I don't want to 
 nake you unhappy. If you can find anything to be 
 cheerful about when you're on the verge of starva- 
 tion, I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, and not mind 
 me. I'm a poor, dependent creetur, and I feel to 
 know I'm a burden." 
 
 " Now, Rachel, that's all foolishness," said Tim- 
 othy. " You don't feel anything of the kind." 
 
 " Perhaps others can tell how I feel better than I 
 can myself," answered his sister, with the air of a 
 martyr. "If it hadn't been for me, I know you'd 
 have been able to lay up money, and have something 
 to carry you through the winter. It's hard to be a 
 burden on your relations, and bring a brother's 
 family to this poverty." 
 
 " Don't talk of being a burden, Rachel," said 
 Mrs. Harding. " You've been a great help to me in 
 many ways. That pair of stockings, now, you're 
 knitting for Jack, that's a help, for I couldn't 
 have got time for them myself." 
 
 " I don't expect," said Aunt Rachel, in the same 
 sunny manner, " that I shall be able to do it long. 
 
24 JACK'S WARD; o*, 
 
 From the pains I have in my hands sometimes, I 
 expect I'm goin' to lose the use of 'em soon, and be 
 as useless as old Mrs. Sprague, who for the last ten 
 years of her life had to sit with her hands folded on 
 her lap. But I wouldn't stay to be a burden, I'd go 
 to the poor-house first. But perhaps," with the look 
 of a martyr, "they wouldn't want me there, because I'd 
 be discouragin' 'em too much." 
 
 Poor Jack, who had so unwittingly raised this 
 storm, winced under the last words, which he knew 
 were directed at him. 
 
 " Then why," asked he, half in extenuation, " why 
 don't you try to look pleasant and cheerful? Why 
 won't you be jolly, as Tom Piper's aunt is ? " 
 
 " I dare say I aint pleasant," said Rachel, " as my 
 own nephew twits me with it. There is some folks 
 that can be cheerful when their house is a burnin' 
 down before their eyes, and I've heard of one young 
 man that laughed at his aunt's funeral," directing a 
 severe glance at Jack ; " but I'm not one of that kind. 
 I think, with the Scriptures, that there's a time to 
 weep." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 25 
 
 "Doesn't it say there's a time to laugh, too?" 
 asked Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " When I see anything to laugh about, I'm ready 
 to laugh," said Aunt Eachel ; " but human nater 
 aint to be forced. I can't see anything to laugh at 
 now, and perhaps you won't by and by." 
 
 It was evidently quite useless to persuade Rachel 
 to cheerfulness, and the subject dropped. 
 
 The tea-things were cleared away by Mrs. 
 Harding, who then sat down to her sewing. Aunt 
 Rachel continued to knit in grim silence, while Jack 
 seated himself on a three-legged stool near his aunt, 
 and began to whittle out a boat, after a model lent 
 him by Tom Piper, a young gentleman whose aunt 
 has already been referred to. 
 
 The cooper took out his spectacles, wiped them 
 carefully with his handkerchief, and as carefully 
 adjusted them to his nose. He then took down from 
 the mantel-piece, one of the few books belonging to 
 his library, " Dr. Kane's Arctic Explorations," 
 and began to read, for the tenth time, it might be, 
 the record of these daring explorers. 
 
 The plain little room presented a picture of grace 
 
26 JActfa WARD; oj?, 
 
 ful tranquillity, but it proved to be only the calm 
 which preceded the storm. 
 
 The storm in question, I regret to say, was brought 
 about by the luckless Jack. As has been said, he 
 was engaged in constructing a boat, the particular 
 operation he was now intent upon being the excava- 
 tion, or hollowing out. Now three-legged stools are 
 not the most secure seats in the world. This, I 
 think, no one will deny who has any practical 
 acquaintance with them. Jack was working quite 
 vigorously, the block from which the boat was to be 
 fashioned being held firmly between his knees. His 
 knife having got wedged in the wood, he made an 
 unusual effort to draw it out, in which he lost his 
 balance, and disturbed the equilibrium of his stool, 
 which, with its load, tumbled over backwards. Now, 
 it very unfortunately happened that Aunt Rachel sat 
 close behind, and the treacherous stool came down 
 with considerable force upon her foot. 
 
 A piercing shriek was heard, and Aunt Rachel, 
 lifting her foot, clung to it convulsively, while an 
 expression of pain disturbed her features. 
 
 At the sound, the cooper hastily removed his spec- 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 27 
 
 tacles, and, letting "Dr. Kane" fall to the floor, 
 started up in great dismay. Mrs. Harding likewise 
 dropped her sewing, and jumped to her feet in 
 alarm. 
 
 It did not take long to see how matters stood. 
 
 "Hurt ye much, Rachel?" inquired Timothy. 
 
 "It's about killed me," groaned the afflicted 
 maiden. " Oh, I shall have to have my foot cut off, 
 or be a cripple anyway." Then turning upon Jack 
 fiercely, " You careless, wicked, ungrateful boy, that 
 I've been wearin' myself out knittin' for. I'm almost 
 sure you did it a purpose. You won't be satisfied 
 till you've got me out of the world, and then then, 
 perhaps "here Rachel began to whimper "per- 
 haps you'll get Tom Piper's aunt to knit your 
 stockings." 
 
 " I didn't mean to, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, peni- 
 tently, eying his aunt, who was rocking to and fro in 
 her chair. "You know I didn't. Besides, I hurt 
 myself like thunder," rubbing himself vigorously. 
 
 " Served you right," said his aunt, still clasping 
 her foot. 
 
28 JAGS' s WARD; OR, 
 
 " Sha'n't I get something for you to put on it, 
 Rachel?" asked Mrs. Harding. 
 
 But this Rachel steadily refused, and, after a few 
 more postures indicating a great amount of anguish, 
 limped out of the room, and ascended llie stairs to 
 her own apartment. 
 
TSX BOY GUARDIAN. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JACK'S NEW PLAN. 
 
 Amrr RACHEL was right in one thing, as Jack 
 realized. He could not find horses to hold every 
 day, and even if he had succeeded in that, few would 
 have paid him so munificently as the stranger of the 
 day before. In fact, matters came to a crisis, and 
 something must be sold to raise funds for immediate 
 necessities. Now the only article of luxury if it 
 could be called so in the possession of the family 
 was a sofa, in very good preservation, indeed nearly 
 new, for it had been bought only two years before 
 when business was good. A neighbor was willing to 
 pay fifteen dollars for this, and Mrs. Harding, with 
 her husband's consent, agreed to part with it. 
 
 44 If ever we are able we will buy another," said 
 Timothy. 
 
 " And at any rate we can do without it," said his 
 wife. 
 
30 JActfs WARD; OM, 
 
 11 Rachel will miss it." 
 
 "She said the other day that it was not com- 
 fortable, and ought never to have been bought ; that 
 it was a shameful waste of money." 
 
 "In that case she won't be disturbed by our selling 
 it." 
 
 " No, I should think not ; but it's hard to tell how 
 Rachel will take anything." 
 
 This remark was amply verified. 
 
 The sofa was removed while the spinster was out, 
 and without any hint to her of what was going to 
 happen. When she returned, she looked around for 
 it with surprise. 
 
 "Where's the sofy?" she asked. 
 
 "We've sold it to Mrs. Stoddard," said Mrs 
 Harding, cherfully. 
 
 "Sold it !" echoed Rachel, dolefully. 
 
 " Yes ; we felt that we didn't need it, and we did 
 need money. She offered me fifteen dollars for it, 
 and I accepted." 
 
 Rachel sat down in a rocking-chair, and began 
 straightway to show signs of great depression of 
 spirits. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 31 
 
 " Life's full of disappointments ! " she groaned. 
 "Our paths is continually beset by 'em. There's 
 that sofa. It's so pleasant to have one in the house 
 when a body's sick. But there, it's gone, and if 
 I happen to get down, as most likely I shall, for I've 
 got a bad feeling in my stummick this very minute, I 
 shall have to go upstairs, and most likely catch my 
 death of cold, and that will be the end of me." 
 
 " Not so bad as that, I hope," said Mrs. Harding, 
 cheerfully. " You know when you was sick last, you 
 didn't want to use the sofa ; you said it didn't lay 
 comfortable. Besides, I hope before you are sick 
 we may be able to buy it back again." 
 
 Aunt Rachel shook her head despondingly. 
 
 " There aint any use in hoping that," she said, 
 " Timothy's got so much behindhand that he won't be 
 able to get up again ; I know he won't ! " 
 
 " But, if he only manages to find steady work 
 soon, he will." 
 
 "No, he won't," said Rachel, positively. "I'm 
 sure he won't. There won't be any work before 
 spring, and most likely not then." 
 
 " You are too desponding, Aunt Rachel." 
 
32 jActfs WARD; OB, 
 
 " Enough to make me so. If you had only taken 
 advice, we shouldn't have come to this." 
 I don't know what advice you refer to," Rachel, 
 said Mrs. Harding, patiently. 
 
 "No, I don't expect you do. My words don't 
 make no impression. You didn't pay no attention to 
 what I said, that's the reason." 
 
 " But if you'll repeat the advice, Rachel, perhaps we 
 can still profit by it," answered Mrs. Harding, with 
 imperturbable good humor. 
 
 "I told you you ought to be layin' up something 
 agin a rainy day. But that's always the way. 
 Folks think when times is good it's always agoin' to 
 be so, but I know better." 
 
 " I don't see how we could have been much more 
 economical," said Mrs. Harding, mildly. 
 
 " There's a hundred ways. Poor folks like us 
 ought not to expect to have meat so often. It's 
 frightful to think what the butcher's bill must have 
 been for the last two months." 
 
 Inconsistent Rachel! Only the day before she 
 nad made herself very uncomfortable, because there 
 was no meat for dinner, and said she couldn't live 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 33 
 
 without it. Mrs. Harding might have reminded her 
 of this, but the good woman was too kind and for-, 
 bearing to make the retort. She really pitied Rachel* 
 for her unhappy habit of despondency. So she con- 
 tented herself by saying that they must try to do 
 better in future. 
 
 "That's always the way," muttered Rachel ; shut 
 the stable-door after the horse is stolen. Folks never 
 learn from experience till it's too late to be of any 
 use. , I don't see what the world was made for, for 
 my part. Everything goes topsy-turvy, and all sorts 
 of ways except the right way. I sometimes think 
 'taint much use livin ' ! " 
 
 11 Oh, you'll feel better by and by, Rachel." 
 "No, I sha'n't; I feel my health's declinin' every 
 day. I don't know how I can stand it when I have 
 to go to the poor-house." 
 
 " We haven't gone there yet, Rachel." 
 "No, but it's comin' soon. We can't live on 
 nothin'." 
 
 "Hark, there's Jack coming," said his mother, 
 hearing a quick step outside. 
 
 " Yes, he's whistlin* just as if nothin' was the mat- 
 8 
 
84 JACE?S WARD; ox, 
 
 ter. He don't care anything for the awful condition 
 of the family." 
 
 " You're wrong there, Rachel ; Jack is trying every 
 day to get something to do. He wants to do his part." 
 
 Rachel would have made a reply disparaging to 
 Jack, but she had no chance, for our hero broke in at 
 this instant. 
 
 " "Well, Jack?" said his mother, inquiringly. 
 
 " I've got a plan, mother," he said. 
 
 "What's a boy's plan worth?" sniffed Aunt 
 Rachel. 
 
 " Oh, don't be always hectorin' me, Aunt Rachel," 
 said Jack, impatiently. 
 
 " Hectorin' ! Is that the way my own nephew talks 
 tome?" 
 
 " Well, it's so. You don't give a feller a chance. 
 I'll tell you what I'm thinking of, mother. I've been 
 talkin' with Tom Blake ; he sells papers, and he 
 tells me he makes sometimes a dollar a day. Isn't 
 that good?" 
 
 " Yes, that is very good wages for a boy." 
 
 " I want to try it, too ; but I've got to buy the 
 papers first, you know, and I haven't got any money. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 35 
 
 So, if you'll lend me fifty cents, I'll try it this 
 afternoon." 
 
 4 'You think you can sell them, Jack?" 
 
 " I know I can. I'm as smart as Tom Blake, any 
 day." 
 
 "Pride goes before a fall!" remarked Rachel by 
 way of a damper. " Disappointment is the common 
 lot." 
 
 " That's just the way all the time," said Jack, 
 provoked. 
 
 " I've lived longer than you," began Aunt Rachel. 
 
 " Yes, a mighty lot longer," interrupted Jack. "I 
 don't deny that." 
 
 " Now you're sneerin' at me on account of my age, 
 Jack. Martha, how can you allow such things ? " 
 
 "Be respectful, Jack!" 
 
 " Then tell Aunt Rachel not to aggravate me so. 
 Will you let me have the fifty cents, mother?" 
 
 "Yes, Jack. I think your plan is worth trying." 
 
 She took out half a dollar from her pocket-book 
 and handed it to Jack. 
 
 "All right, mother. I'll see what I can do 
 frith it." 
 
86 JACB?S WARD; OJB, 
 
 Jack went out, and Rachel looked more gloomy 
 than ever. 
 
 " You'll never see that money again, you may 
 depend on't, Martha," she said. 
 
 "Why not, Rachel?" 
 
 " Because Jack'U spend it for candy, or in some 
 other foolish way." 
 
 " You are unjust, Rachel. Jack is not that kind 
 of boy." 
 
 " I'd ought to know him. I've had chances 
 enough." 
 
 u You never knew him to do anything dishonest." 
 
 "I suppse he's a model boy?" 
 
 "No, he isn't. He's got faults enough, I admit; 
 but he wouldn't spend for his own pleasure money 
 given him for buying papers." 
 
 " If he buys the papers, I don't believe he can sell 
 them, so the money's wasted anyway," said Rachel, 
 trying another tack. 
 
 " We will wait and see," said Mrs. Harding. 
 
 She saw that Rachel was in one of her unreason- 
 able moods, and that it was of no use to continue the 
 discussion. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MBS. HARDING TAKES A BOARDER. 
 
 JACK started for the newspaper offices and bought 
 a supply of papers. 
 
 "I don't see why I can't sell papers as well as 
 other boys," he said to himself. " I'm going to try, 
 at any rate." 
 
 He thought it prudent, however, not to buy too 
 large a stock at first. He might sell them all, but 
 then again he might get " stuck" on a part, and this 
 might take away all his profits. 
 
 Jack, however, was destined to find that in the 
 newspaper business, as well as in others, there was 
 no lack of competition. He took his place just below 
 the Astor House, and began to cry his papers. This 
 aroused the ire of a rival newsboy a few feet away. 
 
 " Get away from here ! " he exclaimed, scowling at 
 Jack. 
 
 "What for? "said Jack. 
 
38 JACX?S WARD; as, 
 
 " This is my stand." 
 
 " Keep it, then. This is mine," retorted Jack, 
 composedly. 
 
 " I don't allow no other newsboys in this block," 
 said the other. 
 
 " Don't you? You aint the City Government, 
 are you ? " 
 
 "I don't want any of your impudence. Clear 
 out!" 
 
 *' Clear out yourself! " 
 
 " I'll give you a lickin' ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you will when you're able." 
 
 Jack spoke manfully; but the fact was that the 
 other boy probably was able, being three years 
 older, and as many inches taller. 
 
 Jack kept on crying his papers, and his opponent, 
 incensed at the contemptuous disregard of his 
 threats, advanced towards him, and, taking Jack 
 unawares, pushed him off the sidewalk with such 
 violence that he nearly fell flat. Jack felt that the 
 time for action had arrived. He dropped his papers 
 temporarily on the sidewalk, and, lowering his head, 
 butted against his young enemy with such force as to 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 39 
 
 double him up, and seat him, gasping for breath, on 
 the sidewalk. Tom Rafferty, for this was his name, 
 looked up in astonishment at the unexpected form of 
 the attack. 
 
 " Well done, my lad ! " said a hearty voice. 
 
 Jack turned towards the speaker, and saw a stout 
 man dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons. He 
 was dark and bronzed with exposure to the weather, 
 and there was something about him which plainly 
 indicated the sailor. 
 
 "Well done, my lad!" he repeated. You know 
 how to pay off your debts." 
 
 "I try to," said Jack, modestly. "But where's 
 my papers ? " 
 
 The papers which he had dropped had disappeared. 
 One of the boys who had seen the fracas had seized 
 the opportunity to make off with them, and poor 
 Jack was in the position of a merchant who had lost 
 his stock in trade. 
 
 "Who took them papers?" he asked, looking 
 about him. 
 
 "I saw a hoy run off with them," said a by- 
 stander. 
 
40 JACK'S WARD; ox, 
 
 " I'm glad of it," said Tom Rafferty, sullenly. 
 
 Jack looked as if lie was ready to pitch into him 
 again, but the sailor interfered. 
 
 " Don't mind the papers, my lad. What were 
 they worth?" 
 
 " I gave twenty cents for 'em." 
 
 " Then here's thirty." 
 
 " 1 don't think I ought to take it," said Jack. 
 It's my loss." 
 
 "Take it, my boy. It won't ruin me. I've got 
 plenty more behind." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I'll go and buy some more 
 papers." 
 
 " Not to-night. I want you to take a cruise with 
 me." 
 
 "All right, sir." 
 
 "I suppose you'd like to know who lam?" said 
 the sailor, as they moved off together. 
 
 " I suppose you're a sailor." 
 
 " Ycu can tell that by the cut of my jib. Yes, 
 my lad, I'm captain of the "Argo," now in p->rt. 
 If s a good while since I've been in York. Foi wa 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 41 
 
 years I've been plying between Liverpool and Cal- 
 cutta. Now I've got absence to come over here." 
 
 44 Are you an American, sir?" 
 
 "Yes; I was raised in Connecticut, but then I 
 began going to sea when I was only thirteen. I only 
 arrived to-day, and I find the city changed since ten 
 years ago when I used to know it." 
 
 " Where are you staying at what hotel? " 
 
 4 ' I haven't gone to any yet ; I used to stay with a 
 cousin of mine, but he's moved. Do you know any 
 good boarding-place, where they'd make me feel at 
 home, and let me smoke a pipe after dinner?" 
 
 An idea struck Jack. They had an extra room at 
 home, or could make one by his sleeping in the 
 sitting-room. Why shouldn't they take the stranger 
 to board ? The money would certainly be acceptable. 
 He determined to propose it. 
 
 "If we lived in a nicer house," he said, " I'd ask 
 you to board at my mother's. 
 
 " Would she take me, my lad? " 
 
 44 1 think she would ; but we are poor, and live in a 
 small house." 
 
 4 'That makes no odds. I aint a bit particular, 
 
42 JACKS WARD; on, 
 
 as long as I can feel at home. So heave ahead, my 
 lad, and we'll go and see this mother of yours, and 
 hear what she has to say about it." 
 
 Jack took the way home well pleased, and, opening 
 the front door, entered the sitting-room followed by 
 the sailor. 
 
 "Aunt Rachel looked up nervously, and ex- 
 claimed, " A man ! " 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," said the stranger. "Fin a man, 
 and no mistake. Are you this lad's mother? " 
 
 "No, sir!" answered Rachel, emphatically. "I 
 am nobody's mother." 
 
 " Oh, an old maid ! " said the sailor, whose mode 
 oi life had made him unceremonious. 
 
 " I am a spinster," said Rachel, with dignity. 
 
 " That's the same thing," said the visitor, sitting 
 down opposite Aunt Rachel, who eyed him sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 "My aunt, Rachel Harding, Captain Bowling," 
 introduced Jack. " Aunt Rachel, Captain Bowling 
 is the commander of a vessel now in port." 
 
 Aunt Rachel made a stiff courtesy, and Captain 
 Bowling eyed her curiously. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN". 43 
 
 " Are you fond of knitting, ma'am? " he asked. 
 
 "I am not fond of anything," said Rachel, 
 mournfully. " We should not set our affections upon 
 earthly things." 
 
 " You wouldn't say that if you had a beau, 
 ma'am," said Captain Bowling, facetiously. 
 
 " A beau ! " repeated Rachel, horror-stricken. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. I suppose you've had a beau some 
 time, or other." 
 
 " I don't think it proper to talk on such a subject 
 to a stranger," said Aunt Rachel, primly. 
 
 " Law, ma'am, you needn't be so particular." 
 
 Just at this moment, Mrs. Harding entered the 
 room, and was introduced to Captain Bowling by 
 Jack. The latter proceeded to business at once. 
 
 " Your son, here, ma'am, told me you might may 
 be swing a hammock for me somewhere in your 
 house. I liked his looks, and here I am." 
 
 " Do you think you would be satisfied with our 
 plain fare, and humble dwelling, Captain Bowling?" 
 
 "I aint hard to suit, ma'am; so, if you can take 
 me, I'll stay." 
 
 His manner was frank, although rough ; and Mrs 
 
44 jActfs WARD; oa, 
 
 Harding cheerfully consented to do so. It wa 
 agreed that Captain Bowling should pay five dollars a 
 week for the three or four weeks he expected to stay. 
 
 " I'll be back in an hour," said the new boarder. 
 "I've got a little business to attend to before 
 supper." 
 
 When he had gone out, Aunt Rachel began to 
 cough ominously. Evidently some remonstrance was 
 coming. 
 
 "Martha," she said solemnly, "I'm afraid you've 
 done wrong in taking that sailor man." 
 
 "Why, Rachel?" 
 
 " He's a strange man." 
 
 " I don't see anything strange about him," said 
 Jack. 
 
 " He spoke to me about having a beau," said Aunt 
 Rachel, in a shocked tone. 
 
 Jack burst into a fit of hearty laughter. "Perhaps 
 he's going to make you an offer, Aunt Rachel," he 
 said. " He wants to see if there's anybody in the 
 way." 
 
 Rachel did not appear so indignant as her sister- 
 in-law expected. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 45 
 
 " It was improper for a stranger to speak to me on 
 that subject," she said mildly. 
 
 "You must make allowances for the bluntness of 
 a sailor," said Mrs. Harding. 
 
 For some reason Rachel did not seem as low- 
 spirited as usual that evening. Captain Bowling 
 entertained them with narratives of his personal 
 adventures, and it was later than usual when the 
 lamps were put out, and they were all in bed. 
 
46 jActfs WARD; ox, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 "JACK," said the captain at breakfast the next 
 morning, " how would you like to go round with me 
 to see my vessel?" 
 
 " I'll go," said Jack, promptly. 
 
 "Very likely he'll fall over into the water and be 
 drowned," suggested Aunt Rachel, cheerfully. 
 
 "I'll take care of that, ma'am," said Captain 
 Bowling. " Won't you come yourself? " 
 
 " I go to see a vessel ! " repeated Rachel. 
 
 "Yes; why not?" 
 
 "I am afraid it wouldn't be proper to go with 
 a stranger," said Rachel, with a high sense of 
 propriety. 
 
 "I'll promise not to run away with you," said the 
 captain, bluntly. "If I should attempt it, Jack 
 here would interfere." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 47 
 
 "No, I wouldn't," said Jack. "It wouldn't be 
 proper for me to interfere with Aunt Rachel's plans." 
 
 "You seem to speak as if your aunt proposed to 
 run away," said Mr. Harding, jocosely. 
 
 "You shouldn't speak of such things, brother; I 
 am shocked," said Rachel. 
 
 " Then you won't go, ma'am? " asked the captain. 
 
 "If I thought it was consistent with propriety," 
 said Rachel, hesitating. "What do you think, 
 Martha?" 
 
 "I think there is no objection," said Mrs. Harding, 
 secretly amazed at Rachel's entertaining the idea. 
 
 The result was that Miss Rachel put on her things, 
 and accompanied the captain. She was prevailed on 
 to take the captain's arm at length, greatly to Jack's 
 amusement. He was still more amused when a boy 
 picked up her handkerchief which she had acci- 
 dentally dropped, and, restoring it to the captain, 
 said, "Here's your wife's handkerchief, gov'nor." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " laughed the captain. " He takes you 
 for my wife, ma'am." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " echoed Jack, equally amused. 
 
 Aunt Rachel turned red with confusion. "I am 
 
48 JACK 9 a WARD; OB, 
 
 afraid I ought not to have come/' she murmured. 
 "I feel ready to drop." 
 
 " You'd better not drop just yet," said the cap- 
 tain they were just crossing the street "wait 
 till it isn't so muddy." 
 
 On the whole, Aunt Eachel decided not to drop. 
 
 The " Argo" was a medium-sized vessel, and Jack 
 in particular was pleased with his visit. Though not 
 outwardly so demonstrative, Aunt Rachel also 
 seemed to enjoy the expedition. The captain, though 
 blunt, was attentive, and it was something new to 
 her to have such an escort. It was observed that 
 Miss Harding was much less gloomy than usual 
 during the remainder of the day. It might be that 
 the captain's cheerfulness was contagious. For a 
 stranger, Aunt Rachel certainly conversed with him 
 with a freedom remarkable for her. 
 
 " I never saw Rachel so cheerful," remarked Mrs. 
 Harding to her husband that evening after they had 
 retired. " She hasn't once spoken of life being a 
 vale of tears to-day." 
 
 "It's the captain," said her husband. "He has 
 spirits that it seems to enliven all of us." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 49 
 
 fc% ^ wish we could have him for a permanent 
 
 " Yes ; the five dollars a week which he pays are 
 a great help, especially now that I am out of work." 
 
 " What is the prospect of getting work soon? " 
 
 " I am hoping for it from day to day, but it may 
 be weeks yet." 
 
 " Jack earned fifty cents to-day by selling papers." 
 
 " His daily earnings are an important help. With 
 what the captain pays us, it is enough to pay all our 
 living expenses. But there's one thing that troubles 
 me." 
 
 "The rent?" 
 
 "Yes, it is c*ue in three weeks, and as yet I 
 haven't a dollar laid by to meet it. It makes me 
 feel anxious." 
 
 " Don't lose your trust in Providence, Timothy. 
 He may yet carry ns over this difficulty." 
 
 " So I hope, but I can't help feeling in what straits 
 we shall be, if some help does not come." 
 
 Two weeks later, Captain Bowling sailed for 
 Liverpool. 
 
 4 
 
50 JActfs WARD; OB, 
 
 " I hope we shall see you again sometime, cap- 
 lain/' said Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " Whenever I come back to New York, I shaD 
 come here if you'll keep me," said the bluff sailor. 
 
 " Aunt Rachel will miss you, captain," said Jack, 
 Blyly. 
 
 Captain Bowling turned to the confused spinster. 
 
 "I hope she will," said he, heartily. "Perhaps 
 when I see her again, she'll have a husband." 
 
 " O Captain Bowling, how can you say such 
 things ? " gasped Rachel, who, as the time for the 
 captain's departure approached, had been subsiding 
 into her old melancholy. " There's other things to 
 think of in this vale of tears." 
 
 "Are there? Well, if they're gloomy, I don't 
 want to think of 'em. "Jack, my lad, I wish you 
 were going to sail with me." 
 
 " So do I," said Jack. 
 
 " He's my only boy, captain," said Mrs. Harding. 
 " I couldn't part with him." 
 
 " I don't blame you, ma'am, not a particle ; though 
 there's the making of a sailor in Jack." 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 51 
 
 " If he went away, he'd never come back," said 
 Rachel, lugubriously. 
 
 "I don't know about that, ma'am. I've been a 
 sailor, man and boy, forty years, and here I am, well 
 and hearty to-day." 
 
 " The captain is about your age, isn't he, Aunt 
 Rachel,' said Jack, maliciously. 
 
 " I'm only thirty-nine," said Rachel, sharply. 
 
 " Then I must have been under a mistake all my 
 life," said the cooper to himself. " Rachel's forty- 
 seven, if she's a day." 
 
 This remark he prudently kept to himself, or a fit 
 of hysterics would probably have been the result. 
 
 " I wouldn't have taken you for a day over thirty- 
 five, ma'am," said the captain, gallantly. 
 
 Rachel actually smiled, but mildly disclaimed the 
 compliment. 
 
 4 ' If it hadn't been for my trials and troubles," 
 she said, "I might have looked younger; but they 
 are only to be expected. It's the common lot." 
 
 " Is it?" said the captain. " I can't say I've been 
 troubled much that way. With a stout heart and a 
 good conscience we ought to be jolly. 
 
52 JACK'S WARD; 05, 
 
 " Who of us has a good conscience?" asked 
 Rachel in a melancholy tone. 
 
 "I have, Aunt Rachel," answered Jack. 
 
 "You!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "You, 
 
 iiat tied a tin kettle to a dog's tail yesterday, and 
 
 liased the poor cat till she almost died of fright. I 
 
 bo awake nights thinking of the bad end you're 
 
 Lkely to come to unless you change your ways." 
 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders, but the captain came 
 to his help. 
 
 " Boys will be boys, ma'am," he said. " I was up 
 to no end of tricks myself when I was a boy." 
 
 "You weren't so bad as Jack, I know," said 
 Rachel. 
 
 " Thank you for standing up for me, ma'am; but 
 I'm afraid I was. I don't think Jack's so very bad, 
 for my part." 
 
 " I didn't plty the tricks Aunt Rachel mentioned," 
 said Jack. " 11 was another boy in our block." 
 
 "You're all alike," said Rachel. I don't know 
 what you boj^s are all coming to." 
 
 Presently the captain announced that he must go. 
 Jack accompanied him as far as the pier, but the rest 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 53 
 
 of the family remained behind. Aunt Rachel became 
 gloomier than ever. 
 
 " I don't know what you'll do, now you've lost 
 your boarder," she said. 
 
 "He will be a loss to us, it is true," said Mrs. 
 Harding; "but we are fortunate in having had him 
 with us so long." 
 
 "It's only puttin' off our misery a little longer," 
 said Rachel. "We've got to go to the poor-house 
 after all." 
 
 Rachel was in one of her moods, and there was no 
 use in arguing with her, as it would only have 
 intensified her gloom. 
 
 Meanwhile Jack was bidding good-by to the 
 captain. 
 
 " I'm sorry you can't go with me, Jack," said the 
 bluff sailor. 
 
 " So am I ; but I can't leave mother." 
 
 "Right, my lad; I wouldn't take you away from 
 her. But there take that, and don't forget me." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Jack, as the captain 
 pressed into his hand a five-dollar gold piec*. 
 "May I give it to my mother?" 
 
54 JActfs WARD; OR, 
 
 " Certainly, my lad ; you can't do better." 
 
 Jack stood on the wharf till the vessel was drawn 
 
 out into the stream by a steam-tug. Then he went 
 
 home. 
 
THE BOY OUARDIAN, 55 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE LANDLORD'S VISIT. 
 
 IT was the night before the New Year. In many 
 a household in the great city it was a night of happy 
 anticipation. In the humble home of the Hardings 
 it was an evening of anxious thought, for to-morrow 
 the quarter's rent was due. 
 
 " I haven't got a dollar to meet the rent, Martha," 
 said the cooper in a depressed tone. 
 
 "Won't Mr. Colman wait?" 
 
 " I'm afraid not. You know what sort of a man 
 he is, Martha. There isn't much feeling about him. 
 He cares more for money than anything else." 
 
 " Perhaps you are doing him injustice." 
 
 "I am afraid not. Did you never hear how he 
 treated the Underbills ? " 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Underbill was laid up with a rheumatic fever for 
 three months. The consequence was that when 
 
56 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 quarter-day came round he was in about the same 
 situation with ourselves a little worse, e\en, for hia 
 wife was sick also. But, though Colman was aware 
 of the circumstances, he had no pity: he turned 
 them out without ceremony." 
 
 " Is it possible? " asked Mrs. Harding, uneasily. 
 
 " And there's no reason for his being more lenient 
 with us. I can't but feel anxious about to-morrow, 
 Martha." 
 
 At this moment, verifying an old adage, which will 
 perhaps occur to the reader, who should knock but 
 Mr. Colman himself. Both the cooper and his wife 
 had an instinctive foreboding as to his visit. 
 
 He came in, rubbing his hands in a social way, as 
 was his custom. No one, to look at him, would have 
 suspected the hardness of heart that lay veiled under 
 his velvety softness of manner. 
 
 " Good-evening, Mr. Harding," he said affably. 
 "I trust you and your excellent wife are in good 
 health." 
 
 " That blessing, at least, is continued to us," said 
 the cooper, gravely. 
 
 "And how comfortable you're looking too, eh I 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 57 
 
 It makes an old bachelor like me feel lonesome when 
 he contrasts his own solitary room with such a scene 
 of comfort as this. You've got a comfortable home, 
 and dog cheap, too. All my other other tenants 
 are grumbling to think you don't have to pay any 
 more for such superior accommodations. I've about 
 made up my mind that I must ask you twenty-five 
 dollars a quarter hereafter." 
 
 All this was said very pleasantly, but the pill was 
 none the less bitter. 
 
 "It seems to me, Mr. Colman," answered the 
 cooper, soberly, " you have chosen rather a singular 
 time for, raising the rent." 
 
 " Why singular, my good sir?" inquired the land- 
 lord, urbanely. 
 
 "You know, of course, that this is a time of 
 general business depression ; my own trade in partic- 
 ular has suffered, greatly. For a month past I have 
 not been able to find any work." 
 
 Colman's face lost something of its graciousness. 
 
 " And I fear I shall not be able to pay my quar- 
 ter's rent to-morrow." 
 
58 JAGS' s WARD; O.R, 
 
 "Indeed!" said the landlord, coldly. "Perhaps 
 you can make it up within two or three dollars." 
 
 " I can't pay a dollar towards it," said the cooper. 
 " It's the first time, in the five years I've lived here, 
 that this thing has happened to me. I've always 
 been prompt before." 
 
 " You should have economized as you found times 
 growing harder," said Colman, harshly. "It is 
 hardly honest to live in a house when you know you 
 can't pay the rent." 
 
 "You sha'n't lose it, Mr. Colman," said the 
 cooper, earnestly. No one ever yet lost anything by 
 me, and I don't mean anyone shall, if I can help it. 
 Only give me a little time, and I will pay all. 
 
 The landlord shook his head. 
 
 "You ought to have cut your coat according to 
 your cloth," he responded. " Much as it will go 
 against my feelings, I am compelled by a prudent 
 regard to my own interests, to warn you that, in 
 case your rent is not ready to-morrow, I shall be 
 obliged to trouble you to find another tenement ; and 
 furthermore, the rent of this will be raised five dol- 
 lars a quarter. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 59 
 
 "I can't pay it, Mr. Colman," said Timothy 
 Harding, gravely. "I may as well say that now; 
 and it's no use agreeing to pay more rent. I pay all 
 I can afford now." 
 
 " Very well, you know the alternative. Of course, 
 if you can do better elsewhere, you will. That's 
 understood. But it's a disagreeable subject. We 
 won't talk of it any more now. I shall be round to- 
 morrow forenoon. How's your excellent sister as 
 cheerful as ever?" 
 
 "Quite as much so as usual," answered the 
 cooper, dryly. 
 
 " There's one favor I should like to ask," he said, 
 after a pause. " Will you allow us to remain here a 
 few days till I can look about me a little ? " 
 
 "I would with the greatest pleasure in the world," 
 was the reply ; " but there's another family very anx- 
 ious to take the house, and they wish to come in im- 
 mediately. Therefore I shall be obliged to ask you 
 to move out to-morrow. In fact, that is the very 
 thing I came here this evening to speak about, as I 
 thought you might not wish to pay the increased rent. 
 
 " We are much obliged to you," said the cooper, with 
 
60 JActfs WARD; OR, 
 
 a tinge of bitterness unusual to him. " If we are to 
 be turned into the street, it is pleasant to have a few 
 hours' notice of it." 
 
 " Turned out of doors, my good sir ! What dis- 
 agreeable expressions you employ ! If you reflect 
 for a moment, you will see that it is merely a matter 
 of business. I have an article to dispose of. There 
 are two bidders, yourself and another person. The 
 latter is willing to pay a larger sum. Of course 
 I give him the preference, as you would do under 
 similar circumstances. Don't you see how it is ? " 
 
 "I believe I do," replied the cooper. "Of 
 course it's a regular proceeding ; but you must 
 excuse me if I think of it in another light, when 
 I reflect that to-morrow at this time my family 
 may be without a shelter." 
 
 "My dear sir, positively you are looking on 
 the dark side of things. It is actually sinful for 
 you to distrust Providence as you seem to do. 
 You're a little disappointed, that's all. Just take 
 to-night to sleep on it, and I've no doubt you'll 
 see things in quite a different light. But positively," 
 here he rose, and began to draw on his gloves, 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 61 
 
 "positively I have staid longer than I intended. 
 Good-night, my friends. I'll look in upon you 
 in the morning. And, by the by, as it's so near, 
 permit me to wish you a Happy New Year." 
 
 The door closed upon the landlord, leaving behind 
 two anxious hearts. 
 
 " It looks well in him to wish that," said the 
 cooper, gloomily. " A great deal he is doing to 
 make it so. I don't know how it seems to others ; 
 for my part, I never say them words to anyone, 
 unless I really wish 'em well, and am willing to do 
 something to make 'em so. I should feel as if I was 
 a hypocrite if I acted anyways different. 
 
 Martha was not one who was readily inclined 
 to think evil of anyone, but in her own gentle heart 
 she could not help feeling a repugnance for the man 
 who had just left them. Jack was not so reticent. 
 
 " I hate that man," he said, decidedly. 
 
 " You should not hate any one, my son," said Mrs. 
 Harding. 
 
 " I can't help it, mother. Aint he goin' to turn 
 us out of the house to-morrow ? " 
 
62 JAC^S WARD; OB, 
 
 " If we cannot pay our rent, he is justified in 
 doing so." 
 
 "Then why need he pretend to be so friendly? 
 He don't care anything for us." 
 
 " It is right to be polite, Jack." 
 
 " I s'pose if you're goin' to kick a man, it should 
 be done politely," said Jack, indignantly. 
 
 " If possible," said the cooper, laughing. 
 
 "Is there any tenement vacant in this neighbor- 
 hood?" asked Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " Yes, there is one in the next block belonging to 
 Mr. Harrison." 
 
 " It is a better one than this." 
 
 11 Yes ; but Harrison only asks the same rent that 
 we have been paying. He is not so exorbitant as 
 Column." 
 
 "Couldn't we get that?" 
 
 " I am afraid if he knows that we have failed to 
 pay our rent here, that he will object. 
 
 " But he knows you are honest, and that nothing 
 but the hard times would have brought you to thia 
 pass." 
 
 " It may be, Martha. At any rate you have light- 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 63 
 
 ened my heart a little. I feel as if there was some 
 hope left after all." 
 
 " We ought always to feel so, Timothy. There 
 was one thing that Mr. Colman said that didn't sound 
 so well, coming from his lips ; but it's true for 
 all that." 
 
 " What do you refer to? " 
 
 " I mean that about not distrusting Providence. 
 Many a time have I been comforted by reading the 
 verse, ' Never have I seen the righteous forsaken, 
 nor his seed begging bread.' As long as we try to 
 do what is right, Timothy, God will not suffer us 
 to want." 
 
 " You are right, Martha. He is our ever-present 
 help in time of trouble. When I think of that, I feel 
 easier." 
 
 They retired to rest thoughtfully, but not sadly. 
 
 The fire upon the hearth flickered and died out at 
 length. The last sands of the old year were running 
 out, and the new morning ushered in its successor. 
 
64 JACK'S WARD; OB* 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE NEW TEAR'S GIFT. 
 
 " HAPPY New Year!" was Jack's salutation to 
 Aunt Rachel, as with an unhappy expression of coun- 
 tenance she entered the sitting-room. 
 
 4 ' Happy, indeed ! " she repeated dismally. "There's 
 great chance of its being so, I should think. We 
 don't any of us know what the year may bring forth. 
 We may all be dead and buried before the next new 
 year." 
 
 " If that's the case," said Jack, " let us be jolly as 
 long as life lasts." 
 
 44 1 don't know what you mean by such a vulgar 
 word," said Aunt Rachel, disdainfully. 44 I've heard 
 of drunkards and such kind of people being jolly ; 
 but, thank Providence, I haven't got to that yet." 
 
 44 If that was the only way to be jolly," said Jack, 
 stoutly, 44 then I'd be a drunkard; I wouldn't carry 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 65 
 
 round such a long face as you do, Aunt Rachel, for 
 any money/* 
 
 " It's enough to make all of us have long faces," 
 said his aunt, sourly, " when you are brazen enough 
 to own that you mean to be a miserable drunkard." 
 
 " 1 didn't say any such thing," said Jack, indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 "Perhaps I have ears," remarked Aunt Rachel, 
 
 sententiously, " and perhaps I have not. It's a new 
 thing for a nephew to tell his aunt that she lies. 
 They didn't use to allow such things when I was 
 young. But the world's going to rack and ruin, and 
 I shouldn't wonder if the people was right that say 
 it's coming to an end." 
 
 Here Mrs. Harding happily interposed, by asking 
 Jack to go round to the grocery in the next street, 
 and buy a pint of milk for breakfast. 
 
 Jack took his hat and started with alacrity, glad 
 to leave the dismal presence of Aunt Rachel. 
 
 He had scarcely opened the door when he started 
 back in surprise, exclaiming, " By hokey, if there 
 isn't a basket on the steps ! " 
 
 "A basket!" repeated his mother in surprise. 
 
 6 
 
66 JACI?S WARD; ojz, 
 
 " Can it be a new year's present ? Bring it in, 
 Jack." 
 
 It was brought in immediately, and the cover being 
 lifted, there appeared a female child, apparently a 
 year old. 
 
 All uttered exclamations of surprise, each in itself 
 characteristic. 
 
 "What a dear, innocent little thing!" said Mrs. 
 Harding, with true maternal instinct. 
 
 "Aint it a pretty *un?" exclaimed Jack, admi- 
 ringly. 
 
 " It looks as if it was goin' to have the measles," 
 said Aunt Rachel, "or scarlet fever. You'd better 
 not take it in, Martha, or we may all catch it." 
 
 " You wouldn't leave it out in the cold, would you r 
 Rachel? The poor thing might die of exposure." 
 
 " Probably it will die," said Rachel, mournfully. 
 " It's very hard to raise children. There's something 
 unhealthy in its looks." 
 
 " It don't seem to me so. It looks plump and 
 healthy." 
 
 "You can't never judge by appearances. You 
 ought to know that, Martha." 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 67 
 
 " I will take the risk, Rachel." 
 
 " I don't see what you are going to do with a baby, 
 when we are all on the verge of starvation, and going 
 to be turned into the street this very day," remarked 
 Rachel, despondently. 
 
 " We won't think of that just now. Common 
 humanity requires us to see what we can do for the 
 poor child." 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Harding took the infant in her 
 arms. The child opened its eyes, and smiled. 
 
 " My! here's a letter," said Jack, diving into the 
 bottom of the basket. " It's directed to you, 
 father." 
 
 The cooper opened the letter, and read as 
 follows : 
 
 " For reasons which it is unnecessary to state, the 
 guardians of this child find it expedient to intrust 
 it to others to bring up. The good account which 
 they have heard of you, has led them to select 
 you for that charge. No further explanation is 
 necessary, except that it is by no means their inten- 
 tion to make this a service of charity. They there- 
 fore inclose a certificate of deposit on the Broadway 
 
68 JAC^S WARD; ou, 
 
 Bank, of five hundred dollars, the same having been 
 paid in to your credit. Each year, while the child 
 remains in your charge, the same will in like manner 
 be placed to your credit at the same bank. It may 
 be as well to state, further, that all attempt to fathom 
 whatever of mystery may attach to this affair will 
 prove useless." 
 
 The letter was read in amazement. The certificate 
 of deposit, which had fallen to the floor, was picked 
 up by Jack, and handed to his father. 
 
 Amazement was followed by a feeling of gratitude 
 and relief. 
 
 " What could be more fortunate ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Harding. " Surely, Timothy, our faith has been 
 rewarded." 
 
 " God has listened to our cry!" said the cooper, 
 devoutly, " and in the hour of our sorest need He has 
 remembered us." 
 
 " Isn't it prime?" said Jack, gleefully ; " five hun- 
 dred dollars ! Aint we rich, Aunt Rachel ? " 
 
 " Like as not," observed Rachel, " the certificate 
 isn't genuine. It doesn't look natural it should be. 
 Tve heard of counterfeits afore now. I shouldn't be 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 69 
 
 surprised at all if Timothy got took up for presenting 
 it." 
 
 " I'll take the risk," said her brother, who did not 
 seem much alarmed at the suggestion 
 
 "Now you'll be able to pay the rent, Timothy," 
 said Mrs. Harding, cheerfully 
 
 " Yes, and it's the last quarter's rent I mean to 
 pay Mr. Colman, if I can help it." 
 
 " Why, where are you going?" asked Jack. 
 
 44 To the house belonging to Mr. Harrison that I 
 spoke of last night, that is, if it isn't already engaged. 
 I think I will sec about it at once. If Mr. Colman 
 should come in while I am gone, tell him I will be 
 back directly; I don't want you to tell him of the 
 change in our circumstances." 
 
 The cooper found Mr. Harrison at home. 
 
 4 I called to inquire," asked Mr. Harding, 
 % whetner you have let your house?" 
 
 44 Not as yet, " was the reply, 
 
 44 What rent do you ask ? " 
 
 " Twenty dollars a quarter. I don't think that un- 
 reasonable." 
 
 44 It is satisfactory to me," was the cooper's reply, 
 
70 JACK'S WARD; OJB, 
 
 " and if you have no objections to me as a tenant, I 
 will engage it at once." 
 
 44 Far from having any objections, Mr. Harding," 
 was the courteous reply, " I shall be glad to secure so 
 good a tenant. Will you go over and look at the 
 house ? " 
 
 " Not now, sir ; I am somewhat in haste. Can we 
 move in to-day?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 His errand satisfactorily accomplished, the cooper 
 returned home. 
 
 Meanwhile the landlord had called. 
 
 He was a little surprised to find that Mrs. Harding, 
 instead of looking depressed, looked cheerful rather 
 than otherwise. 
 
 " I was not aware you had a child so young," he 
 remarked, looking at the baby. 
 
 " It is not mine," said Mrs. Harding, briefly. 
 
 " The child of a neighbor, I suppose," thought the 
 T andlord. 
 
 Meanwhile he scrutinized closely, without appear- 
 ing to do so, the furniture in the room. 
 
 At this point Mr. Harding entered the house. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 71 
 
 "Good-morning," said Colman, affably. "A fine 
 morning, Mr. Harding." 
 
 " Quite so," responded his tenant, shortly. 
 
 " I have called, Mr. Harding, to ask if you are 
 ready with your quarter's rent." 
 
 ' ' I think I told you last evening how I was situ- 
 ated. Of course I am sorry " 
 
 "So am I," interrupted the landlord, " for I may 
 be obliged to have recourse to unpleasant measures." 
 
 " You mean that we must leave the house." 
 
 " Of cdurse you cannot expect to remain in it, if 
 you are unable to pay the rent. I suppose," he 
 added, making an inventory of the furniture with his 
 eyes, "you will leave behind a sufficient amount of 
 furniture to cover your debt." 
 
 " Surely you would not deprive us of our fur- 
 niture ! " 
 
 " Is there any injustice in requiring payment of 
 honest debts?" 
 
 "There are cases of that description. However, 
 I will not put you to the trouble of levying on my 
 furniture. I am ready to pay your dues." 
 
72 JAC&S WARD; <XR, 
 
 "Have you the money?" asked Colman in sur- 
 prise." 
 
 " I have, and something over. Can you cash my 
 check for five hundred dollars?" 
 
 It would be difficult to picture the amazement of 
 the landlord. 
 
 "Surely you told me a different story last even- 
 ing," he said. 
 
 "Last evening and this morning are different 
 times. Then I could not pay you. Now, luckily, I 
 am able. If you will accompany me to 1 the bank, I 
 will draw some money and pay your bill." 
 
 " My dear sir, I am not at all in haste for the 
 money," said the landlord, with a return of his 
 affability. " Any time within a week will do. I 
 hope, by the way, you will continue to occupy this 
 house." 
 
 " I don't feel like paying twenty-five dollars a 
 quarter." 
 
 " You shall have it for the same rent you have 
 been paying." 
 
 " But you said there was another family who had 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 73 
 
 offered you an advanced rent. I shouldn't like lo in- 
 terfere with them. Besides I have already hired a 
 house of Mr. Harrison in the next block." 
 
 Mr. Colman was silenced. He regretted too late 
 the hasty course which had lost him a good tenant. 
 The family referred to had no existence ; and, it may 
 be remarked, the house remained vacant for several 
 months, when he was glad to rent it at the old 
 price. 
 
JACK'S WARD; ox. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A. LUCKY RESCUE. 
 
 THE opportune arrival of the child inaugurated a 
 season of comparative prosperity in the home of 
 Timothy Harding. To persons accustomed to live 
 in their frugal way, five hundred dollars seemed a 
 fortune. Nor, as might have happened in some 
 cases, did this unexpected windfall tempt the cooper 
 or his wife to enter upon a more extravagant mode 
 of living. 
 
 4 'Let us save something against a rainy day," 
 said Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " We can if I get work soon," answered her 
 husband. " This little one will add but little to our 
 expenses, and there is no reason why we shouldn't 
 save up at least half of it." 
 
 " So I think, Timothy. The child's food will not 
 amount to a dollar a week." 
 
 "There's no tellin' when you will get work, 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 75 
 
 Timothy," said Rachel in her usual cheerful way. 
 "It isn't well to crow before you are out of the 
 woods." 
 
 " Very true, Rachel, It isn't your failing to lool 
 too much at the sunny side of the picture." 
 
 " I'm ready to look at it when I can see it any 
 where," answered his sister in the same enlivening 
 way. 
 
 " Don't you see it in the unexpected good fortune 
 which came with this child ? " asked Timothy. 
 
 "I've no doubt you think it very fortunate now," 
 said Rachel, gloomily ; " but a young chilcPn a great 
 deal of trouble." 
 
 "Do you speak from experience, Aunt Rachel?" 
 asked Jack. 
 
 "Yes," said his aunt, slowly. "If all babies 
 were as cross and ill-behaved as you were when you 
 were an infant, five hundred dollars wouldn't begin 
 to pay for the trouble of having them around." 
 
 Mr. Harding and his wife laughed at the manner 
 in which the tables had been turned upon Jack, but 
 the letter had his wits about him sufficiently to 
 answer, " I've always heard, Aunt Rachel, that the 
 
76 JACOBS WARD; ox, 
 
 crosser a child is, the pleasanter he will grow up. 
 What a very pleasant baby you must have been ! " 
 
 "Jack!" said his mother, reprovingly; but his 
 father, who looked upon it as a good joke, remarked, 
 good-humoredty, " He's got you there, Rachel." 
 
 But Rachel took it as a serious matter, and ob- 
 served that, when she was young, children were not 
 allowed to speak so to their elders. 
 
 " But I don't know as I can blame 'em much," she 
 continued, wiping her eyes with the corner of her 
 apron, " when their own parents encourage 'em 
 in it." 
 
 Timothy was warned by experience of Rachel's 
 temper, that silence was his most prudent course. 
 Anything that he might say would only be likely to 
 make matters worse than before. 
 
 Aunt Rachel sank into a fit of deep despondency, 
 and did not say another word till dinner-time. She 
 eat down to the table with a profound sigh, as if 
 there was little in life worth living for. Notwith- 
 standing this, it was observed that she had a good 
 appetite. Indeed Miss Harding appeared to thrive 
 on her gloomy views of life and human nature. She 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 77 
 
 was, it must be acknowledged, perfectly consistent in 
 all her conduct, so far as this peculiarity was con- 
 cerned. Whenever she took up a newspaper, she 
 always looked first to the space appropriated to 
 deaths, and next in order to the column of accidents, 
 casualties, etc., and her spirits were visibly exhila- 
 rated when she encountered a familiar name in either 
 list. 
 
 The cooper continued to look out for work ; but it 
 was with a more cheerful spirit. He did not now feel* 
 as if the comfort of his family depended absolutely on 
 his immediate success. Used economically, the 
 money he had by him would last eight months ; and 
 during that time it was hardly possible that he 
 should not find something to do. It was this sense 
 of security, of having something to fall back upon, 
 that enabled him to keep up good heart. It is too 
 generally the case that people are content to live as 
 if they were sure of constantly retaining their health, 
 and never losing their employment. When a reverse 
 does come, they are at once plunged into discourage- 
 ment, and feel the necessity of doing something 
 immediately. There is only one way of fending off 
 
78 
 
 WARD; 
 
 such an embarrassment; and that is, to resolve, 
 whatever may be the amount of one's income, to lay 
 aside some part to serve as a reliance in time of 
 trouble. A little economy though it involves self- 
 denial will be well repaid by the feeling of security 
 it engenders. 
 
 Mr. Harding was not compelled to remain inactive 
 as long as he feared. Not that his line of business 
 revived, that still remained depressed for a con- 
 siderable time, but another path was opened to 
 him. 
 
 Returning home late one evening, the cooper saw a 
 man steal out from a doorway, and attack a gentle- 
 man, whose dress and general appearance indicated 
 probable wealth. 
 
 Seizing him by the throat, the villain effectually 
 prevented his calling for help, and at once com- 
 menced rifling his pockets, when the cooper arrived 
 on the scene. A sudden blow admonished the robber 
 that he had more than one to deal with. 
 
 " What are you doing? Let that gentleman be ! " 
 The villain hesitated but a moment, then 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN". 79 
 
 springing to his feet, he hastily made off, under cover 
 of the darkness. 
 
 "I hope you have received no injury, sir," said 
 Mr. Harding, respectfully, addressing the stranger he- 
 had rescued. 
 
 "No, my worthy friend; thanks to your timely 
 assistance. The rascal nearly succeeded, however."" 
 
 " I hope you have lost nothing, sir." 
 
 " Nothing, fortunately. You can form an idea of 
 the value of your interference, when I say that I have 
 fifteen hundred dollars with me, all of which would 
 doubtless have been taken." 
 
 "I am glad,", said Timothy, "that I was able to 
 do you such a service. It was by the merest chance 
 that I came this way." 
 
 "Will you add to my indebtedness by accom- 
 panying me with that trusty club of yours ? I have 
 some distance yet to go, and the money I have with 
 me I don't want to lose." 
 
 "Willingly," said the cooper. 
 
 " But I am forgetting," continued the gentleman, 
 " that you will yourself be obliged to return alone." 
 
80 JACI?S WARD; GJZ, 
 
 "I do not carry enough money to make me fear 
 an attack," said Mr. Harding, laughing. "Money 
 brings care, I have always heard, and the want of it 
 sometimes freedom from anxiety." 
 
 " Yet most people are willing to take their share 
 of that." 
 
 "You are right, sir, nor I can't call myself an ex- 
 ception. Still I would be satisfied with the certainty 
 of constant employment." 
 
 " I hope you have that, at least." 
 
 "I have had until three or four months since." 
 
 " Then, at present, you are unemployed?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " What is your business ? " 
 
 " I am a cooper." 
 
 " I will see what I can do for you. Will you call 
 at my office to-morrow, say at twelve o'clock ? " 
 
 "I shall be glad to do so, sir." 
 
 "I believe I have a card with me. Yes, here is 
 one. And this is my house. Thank you for your 
 company. Let me see you to-morrow." 
 
 They stood before a handsome dwelling-house, 
 from whose windows, draped by heavy crimson 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 81 
 
 curtains, a soft light proceeded. The cooper could 
 hear the ringing of childish voices welcoming home 
 their father, whose life, unknown to them, had been 
 in such peril, and he felt grateful to Providence for 
 making him the instrument of frustrating the designs 
 of the villain who would have robbed the merchant, 
 and perhaps done him further injury. Timothy 
 determined to say nothing to his wife about the 
 night's adventure, until after his appointed meeting 
 for the next day. Then, if any advantage accrued 
 to him from it, he would tell the whole story. 
 
 When he reached home, Mrs. Harding was sewing 
 beside the fire. Aunt Rachel sat with her hands 
 folded in her lap, with an air of martyr-like resigna- 
 tion to the woes of life. 
 
 "I've brought you home a paper, Rachel," said 
 her brother, cheerfully. "You may^find something 
 interesting in it." 
 
 "I sha'n't be able to read it this evening," said 
 
 Rachel, mournfully. " My eyes have troubled me 
 
 lately. I feel that it is more than probable I am 
 
 getting blind; but I trust I shall not live to be a 
 
 6 
 
82 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 burden to you, Timothy. Your prospects are dark 
 enough without that." 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself with any fears of that 
 sort, Rachel," said the cooper, cheerily. "I think I 
 know what will enable you to use your eyes as well 
 as ever." 
 
 4 < What ? " asked Rachel, with melancholy curiosity. 
 
 " A pair of spectacles." 
 
 " Spectacles ! " retorted Rachel, indignantly. " It 
 will be a good many years before I am old enough to 
 wear spectacles. I didn't expect to be insulted by 
 my own brother. But I ought not to be surprised. 
 It's one of my trials." 
 
 "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Rachel," 
 said the cooper, perplexed. 
 
 " Good-night !" said Rachel, rising and taking a 
 lamp from the table. 
 
 " Come, Rachel, don't go up to bed yet ; it's only 
 nine o'clock." 
 
 " After what you have said to me, Timothy, my 
 self-respect will not allow me to stay." 
 
 Rachel swept out of the room with something 
 more than her customary melancholy. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 83 
 
 " I wish Rachel wasn't quite so contrary," said the 
 cooper to his wife. " She turns upon a body so 
 sudden it's hard to know how to take her. How's 
 the little girl, Martha?" ' 
 
 " She's been asleep ever since six o'clock." 
 
 4 ' I hope you don't find her very much trouble ? 
 That all comes on you, while we have the benefit of 
 the money." 
 
 "I don't think of that, Timothy. She is a sweet 
 child, and I love her almost as much as if she were 
 my own. As for Jack, he perfectly idolizes her." 
 
 ' ' And how does Rachel look upon her ? " 
 
 'I am afraid she will never be a favorite with 
 Rachel." 
 
 "Rachel never took to children much. It isn't her 
 way. Now, Martha, while you are aewing, I will 
 read you the news." 
 
84 JACS'S WARD; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHAT THE ENVELOPE CONTAINED. 
 
 THE card which had been handed to the cooper, 
 contained the name of Thomas Merriam, No. 
 Pearl Street. 
 
 Punctually at twelve, he presented himself at the 
 counting-room, and received a cordial welcome from 
 the merchant. 
 
 "I am glad to see you," he said affably. You 
 rendered me an important service last evening, even 
 if the loss of money alone was to be apprehended. I 
 will come to business at once, as I am particularly 
 engaged this morning, and ask you if there is any 
 way in which I can serve you ? " 
 
 " If you could procure me a situation, sir, you 
 would do me a great service." 
 
 " 1 think you told me you were a cooper? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Does this yield you a good support?" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 85 
 
 " In good times it pays me two dollars a day, 
 and on that I can support my family comfortably. 
 Lately it has been depressed, and paid me but a 
 dollar and a half." 
 
 "When do you anticipate its revival?" 
 
 "That is uncertain. I may have to wait some 
 months." 
 
 "And, in the meantime, you are willing to under- 
 take some other employment ? " 
 
 "I am not only willing, but shall feel very fortu- 
 nate to obtain work of any kind. I have no objec- 
 tion to any honest employment." 
 
 Mr. Merriam reflected a moment. 
 
 " Just at present," he said, " I have nothing better 
 to offer you than the position of porter. If that will 
 suit you, you can enter upon its duties to-morrow." 
 
 "I shall be very glad to undertake it, sir. Any- 
 thing is better than idleness." 
 
 "As to the compensation, that shall be the same 
 that you have been accustomed to earn by your 
 trade two dollars a day." 
 
 " I only received that in the best times," said Tim- 
 othy, conscientiously. 
 
86 JACE?S WARD; o/z, 
 
 "Your services as porter will be worth that 
 amount, and I will cheerfully pay it. I will expect 
 you to-morrow morning at eight, if you can be here at 
 that time. ' 
 
 " I will be here promptly." 
 
 " You are married, I suppose?" said the merchant, 
 inquiringly, 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I am blessed with a good wife." 
 
 " I am glad of that. Stay a moment." 
 
 Mr. Merriam went to his desk, and presently came 
 back with a sealed envelope. 
 
 " Give that to your wife," he said. 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 Here the interview terminated, and the cooper 
 went home quite elated by his success. His present 
 engagement would enable him to bridge over the 
 dull time, until his trade revived, and save him from 
 incurring debts, of which he had a just horror. 
 
 " You are just in time, Timothy," said Mrs. 
 Harding, cheerfully, as he entered. "We've got an 
 apple-pudding to-day." 
 
 " I see you haven't forgotten what I like, Martha." 
 
 " There's no knowing how long you'll be able to 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN". 87 
 
 afford puddings," said Rachel, dolefully. "To my 
 mind it's extravagant to have meat and pudding 
 both, when a month hence you may be in the poor- 
 house." 
 
 " Then," said Jack, " I wouldn't eat any if I were 
 you, Aunt Rachel." 
 
 4 'Oh, if you grudge me the little I eat," said his 
 aunt, in serene sorrow, "I will go without." 
 
 "Tut, Rachel! nobody grudges you anything 
 here," said her brother ; " and as to the poor-house, 
 I've got some good news to tell you that will put that 
 thought out of your head." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Mrs. Harding, looking up 
 brightly. 
 
 " I have found employment." 
 
 "Not at your trade?" 
 
 "No; but at something else which will pay 
 equally well till trade revives." 
 
 Here he told the chance by which he was enabled 
 to serve Mr. Merriam the evening previous, and then 
 he gave an account of his visit to the merchant's 
 counting-room, and the engagement which he had 
 made. 
 
88 JACE?S WARD; OR, 
 
 "You are indeed fortunate, Timothy," said hia 
 wife, her face beaming with pleasure. " Two dollars 
 a day, and we've got nearly the whole of the money 
 left that came with this dear child. Why, we shall 
 be getting rich soon ! " 
 
 "Well, Rachel, have you no congratulations to 
 offer?" asked the cooper of his sister, who, in 
 subdued sorrow, was eating as if it gave her no 
 pleasure, but was rather a self-imposed penance. 
 
 "I don't see anything so very fortunate in being 
 engaged as a porter," said Rachel, lugubriously. 
 " I heard of a porter once who had a great box fall 
 upon him and kill him instantly ; and I was reading 
 in the ' Sun ' yesterday of another out West some- 
 where who committed suicide." 
 
 The cooper laughed. 
 
 " So, Rachel, you conclude that one or the othei 
 of these calamities is the inevitable lot of all who are 
 engaged in this business ? " 
 
 " You may laugh now, but it is always well to be 
 prepared for the worst," said Rachel, oracularly. 
 
 "But it isn't well to be always looking for it, 
 Rachel." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN'. 89 
 
 "It'll come whether you look for it or not," 
 retorted his sister, sententiously. 
 
 "Then suppose we waste no time thinking about 
 it, since, according to your admission, it's sure to 
 come either way." 
 
 Rachel did not deign a reply, but continued to eat 
 in serene melancholy. 
 
 "Won't you have another piece of pudding, 
 Timothy? " asked his wife. 
 
 " I don't care if I do, Martha, it's so good," 
 said the cooper, passing his plate. " Seems to me 
 it's the best pudding you ever made." 
 
 "You've got a good appetite, that is all," said 
 Mrs. Harding, modestly disclaiming the compliment. 
 
 "Apple-puddings are unhealthy," observed Ra 
 chel. 
 
 " Then what makes you eat them? " asked Jack. 
 
 "A body must eat something. Besides, life is so 
 full of sorrow, it makes little difference if it's longer 
 or shorter." 
 
 " Won't you have another piece, Rachel?" 
 
 Aunt Rachel passed her plate, and received a 
 
90 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 second portion. Jack winked slyly, but fortunately 
 his aunt did not observe it. 
 
 When dinner was over, the cooper thought of the 
 sealed envelope which had been given him for hia 
 wife. 
 
 " Martha," he said, " I nearly forgot that I have 
 something for you." 
 
 "Forme?" 
 
 " Yes, from Mr. Merriam." 
 
 " But he don't know me," said Mrs. Harding, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " At any rate, he first asked me if I was married, 
 and then handed me this envelope, which he asked 
 me to give to you. I am not quite sure whether I 
 ought to allow strange gentlemen to write letters to 
 my wife.' 
 
 Mrs. Harding opened the envelope with consider- 
 able curiosity, and uttered an exclamation of surprise 
 as a bank-note fell out, and fluttered to the carpet. 
 
 "By gracious, mother!" said Jack, springing to 
 get it, " you're in luck. It's a hundred-dollar bill." 
 
 " So it is, I declare," said his mother, joyfully. 
 " But, Timothy, it isn't mine. It belongs to you." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 91 
 
 " No, Martha, I have nothing to do with it. It 
 belongs to you. You need some clothes, I am sure. 
 Use part of it, and I will put the rest in the savings 
 bank for you." 
 
 " I never expected to have money to invest," said 
 Mrs. Harding. " I begin to feel like a capitalist. 
 When you want to borrow money, Timothy, you'll 
 know where to come." 
 
 "Merriam's a trump and no mistake," said Jack. 
 "By the way, when you see him again, father, just 
 mention that you've got a son. Aint we in luck, 
 Aunt Rachel I " 
 
 "Boast not over much," said his aunt. "Pride 
 goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a 
 fall." 
 
 " I never knew Aunt Kachel to be jolly but once," 
 said Jack under his breath; "and that was at a 
 funeral." 
 
JACK'S WARD; 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 JACK'S MISCHIEF. 
 
 ONE of the first results of the new prosperity which 
 had dawned upon the Hardings, was Jack's removal 
 from the street to the school. While his father was 
 out of employment, his earnings seemed necessary ; 
 but now they could be dispensed with. 
 
 To Jack, the change was not altogether agreeable. 
 Few boys of the immature age of eleven are devoted 
 to study, and Jack was not one of these few. The 
 freedom which he had enjoyed suited him, and he 
 tried to impress it upon his father that there was no 
 immediate need of his returning to school. 
 
 "Do you want to grow up a dunce, Jack? "said 
 his father. 
 
 " I can read and write already," said Jack. 
 
 " Are you willing to enter upon life with that 
 scanty supply of knowledge ? " 
 
THE JBOT GUARDIAN". 93 
 
 " Oh, I guess I can get along as well as the 
 average." 
 
 " I don't know about that. Besides, I want you to 
 do better than the average. I am ambitious for you, 
 if you are not ambitious for yourself." 
 
 4 ' I don't see what good it does a feller to study so 
 hard," muttered Jack. 
 
 "You won't study hard enough to do you any 
 harm," said Aunt Rachel, who might be excused for 
 a little sarcasm at the expense of her mischievous 
 nephew. 
 
 " It makes my head ache to study," said Jack. 
 
 " Perhaps your head is weak, Jack," suggested his 
 father, slyly. 
 
 " More than likely," said Rachel, approvingly. 
 
 So it was decided that Jack should go to school. 
 
 " I'll get even with Aunt Rachel," thought he. 
 " She's always talking against me, and hectorin' me. 
 See if I don't." 
 
 An opportunity for getting even with his aunt did 
 not immediately occur. At length a plan suggested 
 itself to our hero. He shrewdly suspected that his 
 aunt's single blessedness, and her occasional denunci- 
 
94 JAGS' s WARD; OB, 
 
 ations of the married state, proceeded from disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 " I'll bet she'd get married if she had a chance," 
 he thought. " I mean to try her anyway." 
 
 Accordingly, with considerable effort, aided by a 
 schoolfellow, he concocted the following letter, 
 which was duly copied and forwarded to his aunt's 
 address : 
 
 " DEAR GIRL, Excuse the liberty I have taken 
 in writing to you ; but I have seen you often, though 
 you don't know me ; and you are the only girl I want 
 to marry. I am not young I am about your age, 
 thirty-five, and I have a good trade. I have 
 always wanted to be married, but you are the only 
 one I know of to suit me. If you think you can love 
 me, will you meet me in Washington Park, next 
 Tuesday, at four o'clock ? Wear a blue ribbon round 
 your neck, if you want to encourage me. I will 
 have a red rose pinned to my coat. 
 
 " Don't say anything to your brother's family 
 about this. They may not like me, and they may try 
 to keep us apart. Now be sure and come. 
 
 "DANIEL." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 95 
 
 This letter reached Miss Rachel just before Jack 
 went to school one morning. She read it through, 
 first in surprise, then with an appearance of 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Who's your letter from, Aunt Rachel?" asked 
 Jack, innocently. 
 
 " Children shouldn't ask questions about what 
 don't concern 'em," said his aunt. 
 
 "I thought maybe it was a love-letter," said he. 
 
 " Don't make fun of your aunt," said his father, 
 reprovingly. 
 
 " Jack's question is only a natural one," said 
 Rachel, to her brother's unbounded astonishment. 
 '* I suppose I aint so old but I might be married if 
 I wanted to." 
 
 " I thought you had put all such thoughts out of 
 your head long ago, Rachel." 
 
 " If I have, it's because the race of men are so 
 shiftless," said his sister. u They aint worth mar- 
 rying." 
 
 " Is that meant forme?" asked the cooper, good- 
 naturedly. 
 
 " You're all alike,' said Rachel, tossing her head. 
 
96 JACE?S WARD; on, 
 
 She put the letter carefully into her pocket, without 
 deigning any explanation. 
 
 " I suppose it's from some of her old acquaint- 
 ances," thought her brother, and he dismissed the 
 subject. 
 
 As soon as she could, Rachel took refuge in her 
 room. She carefully locked the door, and read the 
 letter again. 
 
 " Who can he be ? " thought the agitated spinster. 
 "Do I know anybody of the name of Daniel? It 
 must be some stranger that has fallen in love with me 
 unbeknown. What shall I do ? " 
 
 She sat in meditation for a short time. Then she 
 read the letter again. 
 
 " He will be very unhappy if I frown upon him," 
 she said to herself, complacently. " It's a great 
 responsibility to make a fellow-being unhappy. It's 
 a sacrifice, I know, but it's our duty to deny our- 
 selves. I don't know but I ought to go and meet 
 him." 
 
 This was Rachel's conclusion. 
 
 The time was close at hand. The appointment 
 was for that very afternoon. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 97 
 
 " I wouldn't have my brother or Martha know it 
 for the world," murmured Rachel to herself, " nor 
 that troublesome Jack. Martha's got some blue rib- 
 bon, but I don't dare to ask her for it, for fear 
 she'll suspect something. No, I must go out and 
 buy some." 
 
 " I'm goin' to walk, Martha," she said, as she 
 came downstairs. 
 
 " Going to walk in the forenoon ! Isn't that some- 
 thing unusual ? " 
 
 "I've got a little headache. I guess it'll do me 
 good," said Rachel. 
 
 "I hope it will," said her sister-in-law, sympa- 
 thetically. 
 
 Rachel went to the nearest dry-goods store, and 
 bought a yard of blue ribbon. 
 
 "Only a yard?" inquired the clerk in some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " That will do," said Rachel, nervously, coloring a 
 little, as though the use which she designed for it 
 might be suspected. 
 
 She paid for the ribbon, and presently returned. 
 7 
 
98 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 " Does your head feel any better, Rachel?" asked 
 Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " A little," answered Rachel. 
 
 " You've been sewing too steady lately, perhaps?' 
 suggested Martha. 
 
 " Perhaps I have," assented Rachel. 
 
 "You ought to spare yourself. You can't stand 
 work as well as when you were younger," said 
 Martha, innocently. 
 
 " A body'd think I was a hundred by the way you 
 talk," said Rachel, sharply. 
 
 "I didn't mean to offend you, Rachel. I thought 
 you might feel as I do. I get tired easier than I 
 used to." 
 
 "I guess I'll go upstairs," said Rachel in the 
 same tone. "There isn't anybody there to tell me 
 how old I am gettin'." 
 
 "It's hard to make Rachel out," thought Mrs. 
 
 i 
 Harding. " She takes offence at the most innocent 
 
 remark. She can't look upon herself as young, I am 
 sure." 
 
 Upstairs Rachel took out the letter again, and 
 read it through once more. " I wonder what sort of 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 99 
 
 a man Daniel is," she said to herself. " I wonder if 
 I have ever noticed him. How little we know what 
 others think of us ! If he's a likely man, maybe it's 
 my duty to marry him. I feel I'm a burden to 
 Timothy. His income is small, and it'll make a 
 difference of one mouth. It may be a sacrifice, but 
 it's my duty." 
 
 In this way Rachel tried to deceive herself as to 
 the real reason which led her to regard with favoring 
 eyes the suit of this supposed lover whom she had 
 never seen, and about whom she knew absolutely 
 nothing. 
 
 Jack came home from school at half-past two 
 o'clock. He looked roguishly at his aunt as he 
 entered. She sat knitting in her usual corner. 
 
 "Will she go?" thought Jack. "If she doesn't 
 there won't be any fun." 
 
 But Jack, whose trick I am far from defending, 
 was not to be disappointed. 
 
 At three o'clock Rachel rolled up her knitting, and 
 went upstairs. Fifteen minutes later she came down 
 dressed for a walk. 
 
100 JACK'S WARD; oj?, 
 
 "Where are you going, Aunt Rachel?" asked 
 Jack. 
 
 " Out for a walk," she answered, shortly. 
 
 " May I go with you? " he asked, mischievously. 
 
 " No ; I prefer to go alone," she said curtly. 
 
 "Your aunt has taken a fancy to walking," said 
 Mrs. Harding, when her sister-in-law had left the 
 house. "She was out this forenoon. I don't know 
 what has come over her." 
 
 " I do," said Jack to himself. 
 
 Five minutes later he put on his hat and bent hia 
 steps also to Washington Park. 
 
THB BOY GUARDIAN. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 MISS HARDING' s MISTAKE. 
 
 Miss RACHEL HARDING kept on her way to Wash- 
 ington Park. It was less than a mile from her 
 brother's house, and though she walked slowly, she 
 got there a quarter of an hour before the time. 
 
 She sat down on a seat near the centre of the 
 park, and began to look around her. Poor Rachel 1 
 her heart beat quicker than it had done for thirty 
 years, as she realized that she was about to meet one 
 who wished to make her his wife. 
 
 "I hope he won't be late," she murmured to 
 herself, and she felt of the blue ribbon to make sure 
 that she had not forgotten it. 
 
 Meanwhile Jack reached the park, and from a 
 distance surveyed with satisfaction the evident ner- 
 vousness of his aunt. 
 
 11 Aint it rich? " he whispered to himself. 
 
102 JACK'S WARD; on, 
 
 Eachel looked anxiously for the gentleman with 
 the red rose pinned to his coat. 
 
 She had to wait ten minutes. At last he came, but 
 as he neared her seat, Rachel felt like sinking into 
 the earth with mortification when she recognized in 
 the wearer a stalwart negro. She hoped that it was 
 a mere chance coincidence, but he approached her, 
 and raising his hat respectfully, said, 
 
 " Are you Miss Harding?" 
 
 "What if I am?" she demanded, sharply, 
 44 What have you to do with me ? " 
 
 The man looked surprised. 
 
 " Didn't you send word to me to meet you here?" 
 
 " No ! " answered Rachel, " and I consider it very 
 presumptuous in you to write such a letter to me." 
 
 " I didn't write you a letter," said the negro, as- 
 tonished. 
 
 44 Then what made you come here?" demanded 
 the spinster. 
 
 " Because you wrote to me." 
 
 44 1 wrote to you ! " exclaimed Rachel, aghast. 
 
 * 4 Yes, you wrote to me to come here. You said 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 103 
 
 you'd wear a blue ribbon on your neck, and I was to 
 have a rose pinned to my coat." 
 
 Rachel was bewildered. 
 
 1 ' How could I write to you when I never saw you 
 before, and don't know your name. Do you think a 
 lady like me would marry a colored man ? " 
 
 "Who said anything about that?" asked the 
 other, opening his eyes wide in astonishment. U I 
 couldn't marry, no how, for I've got a wife and four 
 children." 
 
 Rachel felt ready to collapse. Was it possible 
 that she had made a mistake, and that this was not 
 her unknown correspondent, Daniel ? 
 
 " There is some mistake," she said, nervously. 
 " Where is that letter you thought I wrote? Have 
 you got it with you?" 
 
 11 Here it is, ma'am." 
 
 He handed Rachel a letter addressed in a small 
 hand to Daniel Thompson. 
 
 She opened it and read, 
 
 "MR. THOMPSON: I hear you are out of work. 
 1 may be able to give you a job. Meet me at Wash- 
 
104 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 ington Park, Tuesday afternoon, at four o'clock, I 
 shall wear a blue ribbon round my neck, and you may 
 have a red rose pinned to your coat. Otherwise I 
 might not know you. 
 
 " RACHEL HARDING." 
 
 " Some villain has done this," said Rachel, wrath- 
 fuUy. " I never wrote that letter." 
 
 "You didn't!" said Daniel, looking perplexed. 
 " Who went and did it, then? " 
 
 "I don't know, but I'd like to have him punished 
 for it," said Rachel, energetically. 
 
 4 'But you've got a blue ribbon," said Mr. Thomp- 
 son. " I can't see through that. That's just what 
 the letter said." 
 
 ' ' I suppose somebody wrote the letter that knew 
 I wear blue. It's all a mistake. You'd better go 
 home." 
 
 "Then haven't you got a job for me?" asked 
 Daniel, disappointed. 
 
 " No, I haven't," said Rachel, sharply. 
 
 She hurriedly untied the ribbon from her neck, and 
 put it in her pocket. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 105 
 
 " Don't talk to me any more ! " she said, frowning. 
 " You're a perfect stranger. You have no right to 
 speak to me." 
 
 " I guess the old woman ain't right in her head ! " 
 thought Daniel. "Must be she's crazy ! " 
 
 Poor Rachel ! she felt more disconsolate than ever. 
 There was no Daniel, then. She had been basely 
 imposed upon. There was no call for her to sacrifice 
 herself on the altar of matrimony. She ought to 
 have been glad, but she wasn't. 
 
 Half an hour later a drooping, disconsolate figure 
 entered the house of Timothy Harding. 
 
 1 'Why, what's the matter, Rachel?" asked Mar- 
 tha, who noticed her woe-begone expression. 
 
 " I aint long for this world," said Rachel, gloom- 
 ily. u Death has marked me for his own." 
 
 " Don't you feel well this afternoon, Rachel?" 
 
 " No ; I feel as if life was a burden." 
 
 "You have tired yourself with walking, Rachel. 
 You have been out twice to-day." 
 
 " This is a vale of tears," said Rachel, hysteri- 
 cally. "There's nothin' but sorrow and misfortune 
 to be expected." 
 
106 jActfs WARD; ox, 
 
 "Have you met with any misfortune ? I thought 
 Fortune was smiling upon us all." 
 
 " It'll never smile on me again," said Rachel, 
 despondently. 
 
 Just then Jack, who had followed his aunt home, 
 entered. 
 
 " Have you got home so quick, Aunt Rachel? " he 
 asked. " How did you enjoy your walk? " 
 
 u I shall never enjoy anything again," said his 
 aunt, gloomily. 
 
 " Why not?" 
 
 " Because there's nothing to enjoy." 
 
 " I don't feel so, aunt. I feel as merry as a 
 cricket." 
 
 " You won't be long. Like as not you'll be took 
 down with fever to-morrow, and maybe die." 
 
 " I won't trouble myself about it till the time 
 comes," said Jack. " I expect to live to dance at 
 your wedding yet, Aunt Rachel." 
 
 "This reference was too much. It brought to 
 Rachel's mind the Daniel to whom she had expected 
 to link her destiny, and burst into a dismal sob, and 
 hurried upstairs to her own chamber. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 107 
 
 " Rachel acts queerly to-day," said Mrs. Harding. 
 " I think she can't be feeling well. If she don't feel 
 better to-morrow I shall advise her to send for the 
 doctor." 
 
 " I am afraid it was mean to play such a trick on 
 Aunt Rachel," thought Jack, half repentantly. "I 
 didn't think she'd take it so much in earnest. I 
 must keep dark about that letter. She'd never 
 forgiye me if she knew." 
 
 For some days there was an added gloom on Miss 
 Rachel's countenance, but the wound was not deep ; 
 and after a time her disappointment ceased to rankle 
 in her too sensitive hewfc 
 
108 JACS WARD; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SEVEN YEARS. 
 
 SEVEN years slipped by unmarked ty any impor- 
 tant change. The Hardings were still prosperous in 
 an humble way. The cooper had been able to obtain 
 work most of the time, and this, with the annual 
 remittance for little Ida, had enabled the family not 
 only to live in comfort, but even to save up one 
 hundred and fifty dollars a year. The}?- might even 
 have saved more, living as frugally as they were 
 accustomed to do, but there was one point in which 
 they would none of them consent to be economical. 
 The little Ida must have everything she wanted. 
 Timothy brought home nearly every day some little 
 delicacy for her, which none of the rest thought of 
 sharing. While Mrs. Harding, far enough from 
 vanity, always dressed with extreme plainness, Ida's 
 attire was always of good material and made up 
 tastefully. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 109 
 
 Sometimes the little girl asked, " Mother, why 
 don't you buy yourself some of the pretty things you 
 get for me?" 
 
 Mrs. Harding would answer, smiling, u Oh, I'm an 
 old woman, Ida. Plain things are best for me." 
 
 " No, I'm sure you're not old, mother. You don't 
 wear a cap. Aunt Kachel is a good deal older than 
 you." 
 
 "Hush, Ida. Don't let Aunt Rachel hear that. 
 She wouldn't like it." 
 
 " But she is ever so much older than you, mother," 
 persisted the child. 
 
 Once Rachel heard a remark of this kind, and per- 
 haps it was that that prejudiced her against Ida. At 
 any rate, she was not one of those who indulged her. 
 Frequently she rebuked her for matters of no impor- 
 tance ; but it was so well understood in the cooper's 
 household that this was Aunt Rachel's way, that Ida 
 did not allow it to trouble her, as the lightest reproach 
 from Mrs. Harding would have done. 
 
 Had Ida been an ordinary child, all this petting 
 would have had an injurious effect upon her mind. 
 But, fortunately, she had the rare simplicity, young 
 
110 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 as she was, which lifted her above the dangers which 
 might have spoiled her otherwise. Instead of being 
 made vain and conceited, she only felt grateful for 
 the constant kindness shown her by her father and 
 mother, and brother Jack, as she was wont to call 
 them. Indeed it had not been thought best to let her 
 know that such was not the actual relations in which 
 they stood to her. 
 
 There was one point, much more important than 
 dress, in which Ida profited by the indulgence of her 
 friends. 
 
 " Martha," the cooper was wont to say, " Ida is a 
 sacred charge in our hands. If we allow her to grow 
 up ignorant, or only allow her ordinary advantages r 
 we shall not fulfil our duty. We have the means, 
 through Providence, of giving her some of those 
 advantages which she would enjoy if she had 
 remained in that sphere to which her parents doubt- 
 less belong. Let no unwise parsimony on our part 
 withhold them from her." 
 
 " You are right, Timothy," said his wife ; " right, 
 as you always are. Follow the dictates of your own 
 heart, and fear not that I shall disapprove." 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. Ill 
 
 ' ' Humpli ! " said Aunt Rachel ; * c you aint actin* 
 right, accordin* to my way of thinkin'. Readin', 
 writin' and cypherin' was enough for girls to learn in 
 my day. What's the use of stuffin' the girl's head 
 full of nonsense that'll never do her no good. I've 
 got along without it, and I aint quite a fool." 
 
 But the cooper and his wife had no idea of restrict- 
 ing Ida's education to the rather limited standard 
 indicated by Rachel. So, from the first, they sent 
 her to a carefully selected private school, where she 
 had the advantage of good associates, and where her 
 progress was astonishingly rapid. 
 
 Ida early displayed a remarkable taste for drawing. 
 As soon as this was discovered, her adopted parents 
 took care that she should have abundant opportunity 
 for cultivating it. A private master was secured, 
 who gave her lessons twice a week, and boasted 
 everywhere of the progress made by his charming 
 young pupil. 
 
 " What's the good of it ? " asked Rachel. " She'd 
 a good deal better be learnin' to sew and knit." 
 
 "All in good time," said Timothy. "She can 
 attend to both." 
 
112 JAGS' s WARD; OB, 
 
 " I never wasted my time that way," said Rachel. 
 " I'd be ashamed to." 
 
 Nothing could exceed Timothy's gratification, 
 when, on his birth-day, Ida presented him with a 
 beautifully drawn sketch of his wife's placid and 
 benevolent face. 
 
 " When did you do it, Ida?" he asked, after ear- 
 nest expressions of admiration. 
 
 " I did it in odd minutes," she answered, " when I 
 had nothing else to do." 
 
 " But how could you do it, without any of us 
 knowing what you were about?" 
 
 " I had a picture before me, and you thought I was 
 copying it, but, whenever I could do it without being 
 noticed, I looked up at mother as she sat at her sew- 
 ing, and so, after a while, I finished the picture." 
 
 "And a fine one it is," said the cooper, admir- 
 ingly. 
 
 Mrs. Harding insisted that Ida had flattered her, 
 but this Ida would not admit. 
 
 " I couldn't make it look as good as you, mother," 
 she said. " I tried, but somehow I didn't succeed as 
 I wanted to." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 113 
 
 "You wouldn't have that difficulty with Aunt 
 Rachel," said Jack, roguishly. 
 
 Ida could not help smiling, but Rachel did not 
 smile. 
 
 "I see," she said, with severe resignation, "that 
 you've taken to ridiculing your poor aunt again. 
 But it's only what I expect. I don't never expect 
 any consideration in this house. I was born to be 
 a martyr, and I expect I shall fulfil my destiny. If 
 my own relations laugh at me, of course I can't 
 expect anything better from other folks. But I 
 sha'n't be long in the way. I've had a cough for 
 some time past, and I expect I'm in a consumption." 
 
 " You make too much of a little joke, Rachel," 
 said the cooper, soothingly. " I'm sure Jack didn't 
 mean anything." 
 
 " What I said was complimentary," said Jack. 
 
 Rachel shook her head incredulously. 
 
 4 'Yes it was. Ask Ida. Why won't you draw 
 Aunt Rachel, Ida ? I think she'd make a very strik- 
 ing picture." 
 
 "So I will," said Ida, hesitatingly, "if she will 
 let me." 
 
114 JACK'S WARD; ojz, 
 
 " Now, Aunt Rachel, there's a chance for you," 
 said Jack. "Take my advice, and improve it. 
 When it's finished it can be hung up in the Art 
 Rooms, and who knows but you may secure a hus- 
 band by it." 
 
 " I wouldn't marry," said Rachel, firmly compress- 
 ing her lips; "not if anybody'd go down on their 
 knees to me." 
 
 "Now, I'm sure, Aunt Rachel, that's cruel of 
 you," said Jack, demurely. 
 
 " There aint any man I'd trust my happiness to," 
 pursued the spinster. 
 
 " She hasn't any to trust," observed Jack, sotto 
 voce. 
 
 "Men are all deceivers," continued Rachel, "the 
 best of 'em. You can't believe what one of 'em says. 
 It would be a great deal better if people never mar- 
 ried at all." 
 
 " Then where would the world be a hundred years 
 hence ? " suggested her nephew. 
 
 "Come to an end, most likely," answered Aunt 
 Rachel; "and I'm not sure but that would be the 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 115 
 
 best thing. It's growing more and more wicked every 
 day." 
 
 It will be seen that no great change has come ovei 
 Miss Rachel Harding, during the years that have 
 intervened. She takes the same disheartening view 
 of human nature and the world's prospects as ever. 
 Nevertheless, her own hold upon the world seems as 
 strong as ever. Her appetite continues remarkably 
 good, and, although she frequently expresses herself 
 to the effect that there is little use in living, she 
 would be as unwilling to leave the world as any one. 
 It is not impossible that she derives as much enjoy- 
 ment from her melancholy as other people from their 
 cheerfulness. Unfortunately her peculiar mode of 
 enjoying herself is calculated to have rather a depress- 
 ing influence upon the spirits of those with whom 
 she comes in contact always excepting Jack, who 
 has a lively sense of the ludicrous, and never en- 
 joys himself better than in bantering his aunt. 
 
 "I don't expect to live more'n a week," said 
 Rachel, one day. " My sands of life are 'most run 
 out." 
 
116 JACK'S WARD; O.R, 
 
 " Are you sure of that, Aunt Rachel?" asked 
 Jack. 
 
 " Yes, I've got a presentiment that it's so." 
 
 "Then, if you're sure of it," said her nephew, 
 gravely, " it may be as well to order the coffin in 
 time. What style would you prefer ? " 
 
 Rachel retreated to her room in tears, exclaiming 
 that he needn't be in such a hurry to get her out of 
 the world, but she came down to supper, and ate 
 with her usual appetite. 
 
 Ida is no less a favorite with Jack than with the 
 rest of the household. Indeed he has constituted 
 himself her especial guardian. Rough as he is in the 
 playground, he is always gentle with her. When she 
 was just learning to walk, and in her helplessness 
 needed the constant care of others, he used, from 
 choice, to relieve his mother, of much of the task of 
 amusing the child. He had never had a little sister, 
 and the care of a child as young as Ida was a 
 novelty to him. It was perhaps this very office of 
 guardian to the child, assumed when she was young, 
 that made him feel ever after as if she were placed 
 under Ms special protection. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 117 
 
 Ida was equally attached to Jack. She learned to 
 look to him for assistance in any plan she had formed, 
 and he never disappointed her. Whenever he could, 
 he would accompany her to school, holding her by 
 the hand, and, fond as he was of rough play, nothing 
 would induce him to leave her. 
 
 " How long have you been a nurse-maid?" asked 
 a boy older than himself, one day. 
 
 Jack's fingers itched to get hold of his derisive 
 questioner, but he had a duty to perform, and he con- 
 tented himself with saying, " Just wait a few min- 
 utes, and I'll let you know." 
 
 " I dare say you will," was the reply. " I rather 
 think, I shall have to wait till both of us are gray 
 before that time." 
 
 " You will not have to wait long before you are 
 black and blue," retorted Jack. 
 
 " Don't mind what he says, Jack," whispered Ida, 
 fearing that he would leave her. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, Ida; I won't leave you. I'll 
 attend to his business another time. I guess he 
 won't trouble us to-morrow." 
 
 Meanwhile the boy, emboldened by Jack's 
 
118 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 passiveness, followed, with more abuse of the same 
 sort. If he had been wiser, he would have seen a 
 storm gathering in the flash of Jack's eye ; but he 
 mistook the cause of his forbearance 
 
 The next day, as they were going to school, Ida 
 saw the same boy dodging round the corner with his 
 head bound up. 
 
 " What's the matter with him, Jack?" she asked. 
 
 "I licked him like blazes, that's all," said Jack, 
 quietly. " I guess he'll let us alone after this." 
 
 Even after Jack left school, and got a position in a 
 store at two dollars a week, he gave a large part of 
 his spare time to Ida. 
 
 " Really," said Mrs. Harding, "Jack is as care- 
 ful of Ida, as if he was her guardian." 
 
 " A pretty sort of a guardian he is ! " said Aunt 
 Rachel. u Take my word for it, he's only fit to \ead 
 her into mischief." 
 
 1 ' You do him injustice, Rachel. Jack is not 
 model boy, but he takes the best care of Ida." 
 
 Rachel shrugged her shoulders, and sniffed signifi- 
 cantly. It was quite evident that she did not have a 
 very favorable opinion of her nephew. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 
 
 ABOUT eleven o'clock one forenoon, Mrs. Harding 
 was in the kitchen, busily engaged in preparing the 
 dinner when a loud knock was heard at the front 
 door. 
 
 "Who can it be?" said Mrs. Harding. "Aunt 
 Rachel, there's somebody at the door ; won't you be 
 kind enough to see who it is ? " 
 
 ' ' People have no business to call at such an hour 
 in the morning," grumbled Rachel, as she laid down 
 her knitting reluctantly, and rose from her seat. 
 " Nobody seems to have any consideration for any- 
 body else. But that's the way of the world." 
 
 Opening the outer door, she saw before her a tall 
 woman, dressed in a gown of some dark stuff, with 
 strongly marked, and not altogether pleasant features. 
 
 "Are you the lady of the house?" inquired the 
 visitor, abruptly. 
 
120 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 "There ain't any ladies in this house," answered 
 Rachel. " You've come to the wrong place. We 
 have to work for a living here." 
 
 "The woman of the house, then," said the stran- 
 ger, rather impatiently. " It doesn't make any dif- 
 ference about names. Are you the one I want to 
 see?" 
 
 " No, I ain't," said Rachel, shortly. 
 
 " Will you tell your mistress that I want to see 
 her, then?" 
 
 "I have no mistress," said Rachel. "What do 
 you take me for ? " 
 
 "I thought you might be the servant, but that 
 don't matter. I want to see Mrs. Harding. Will 
 you call her, or shall I go and announce myself? " 
 
 " I don't know as she'll see you. She's busy in 
 the kitchen." 
 
 1 ' Her business can't be as important as what I've 
 come about. Tell her that, will you ? " 
 
 Rachel did not fancy the stranger's tone or manner. 
 Certainly she did not manifest much politeness. But 
 the spinster's curiosity was excited, and this led her 
 the more readily to comply with the request. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 121 
 
 " Stay here, and I'll call her," she said. 
 
 4 'There's a woman wants to see you," announced 
 Rachel. 
 
 " Who is it?" 
 
 "I don't know. She hasn't got any manners ,, 
 that's all I know about her." 
 
 Mrs. Harding presented herself at the door. 
 
 " Won't you come in?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes I will. What I've, got to say to you may 
 take some time." 
 
 Mrs. Harding, wondering vaguely what business 
 this strange visitor could have with her, led the way 
 to the sitting-room. 
 
 " You have in your family, "said the woman, after 
 seating herself, " a girl named Ida." 
 
 Mrs. Harding looked up suddenly and anxiously. 
 Could it be that the secret of Ida's birth was to be 
 revealed at last ! Was it possible that she was to be 
 taken from her? 
 
 " Yes," she answered simply. 
 
 * ' Who is not your child ? " 
 
 " But I love her as such. I have always taught 
 her to look upon me as her mother." 
 
122 JACX'S WARD; ox, 
 
 " I presume so. My visit has reference to her." 
 
 " Can you tell me anything of her parentage?" 
 Inquired Mrs. Harding, eagerly. 
 
 " I was her nurse," said the stranger. 
 
 Mrs. Harding scrutinized anxiously the hard feat- 
 ures of the woman. It was, at least, a relief to 
 know that no tie of blood connected her with Ida, 
 though, even upon her assurance she would hardly 
 have believed it. 
 
 " Who were her parents?" 
 
 " I am not permitted to tell." 
 
 Mrs. Harding looked disappointed. 
 
 " Surely," she said, with a sudden sinking of the 
 heart, " you have not come to take her away?" 
 
 "This letter will explain my object in visiting 
 you," said the woman, drawing a sealed envelope 
 from a bag which she carried in her hand. 
 
 The cooper's wife nervously broke open the letter, 
 and read as follows : 
 
 "MRS. HARDING : Seven years ago last New 
 Year's night, a child was left on your door-steps, with 
 a note containing a request that you would care for it 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 123 
 
 kindly as your own. Money was sent at the same 
 time to defray the expenses of such care. The writer 
 of this note is the mother of the child Ida. There is 
 no need to explain here why I sent away the child 
 from me. You will easily understand that it was not 
 done willingly, and that only the most imperative 
 necessity would have led me to such a step. The 
 same necessity still prevents me from reclaiming my 
 child, and I am content still to leave Ida in your 
 charge. Yet there is one thing I desire. You will 
 understand a mother's wish to see, face to face, her 
 own child. With this view I have come to this 
 neighborhood. I will not say where I am, for con- 
 cealment is necessary to me. I send this note by a 
 trustworthy attendant, Mrs. Hardwick, my little 
 Ida's nurse in her infancy, who will conduct Ida to 
 me, and return her again to you. Ida is not to know 
 who she is visiting. No doubt she believes you to 
 be her mother, and it is well that she should so re- 
 gard you. Tell her only that it is a lady, who takes 
 an interest in her, and that will satisfy her childish 
 curiosity. I make this request as 
 
 " IDA'S MOTHER." 
 
124 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 Mrs. Harding read this letter with mingled feelings. 
 Pity for the writer ; a vague curiosity in regard to 
 the mysterious circumstances which had compelled 
 her to resort to such a step ; a half feeling of 
 jealousy, that there should be one who had a claim 
 to her dear, adopted daughter, superior to her own ; 
 and a strong feeling of relief at the assurance that 
 Ida was not to be permanently removed, all these 
 feelings affected the cooper's wife. 
 
 " So you were Ida's nurse?" she said, gently. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said the stranger. "I hope the 
 dear child is well?" 
 
 "Perfectly well. How much her mother must 
 have suffered from the separation ! " 
 
 11 Indeed you may say so, ma'am. It came near to 
 break her heart." 
 
 " I don't wonder," said sympathizing Mrs. Hard- 
 ing. "I can judge of that by my own feelings. I 
 don't know what I should do, if Ida were to be taken 
 from me." 
 
 At this point in the conversation, the cooper 
 entered the house. He had come home on an 
 errand. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 125 
 
 4 ' It is my husband," said Mrs Harding, turning to 
 her visitor, by way of explanation. " Timothy, will 
 you come here a moment ? " 
 
 The cooper regarded the stranger with some sur 
 prise. His wife hastened to introduce her as Mrs. 
 Hardwick, Ida's old nurse, and placed in her hus- 
 band's hands the letter which we have already 
 read. 
 
 He was not a rapid reader, and it took him some 
 time to get through the letter. He laid it down on 
 his knee, and looked thoughtful. 
 
 " This is indeed unexpected," he said, at last. " It 
 is a new development in Ida's history. May I ask, 
 Mrs. Hardwick, if you have any further proof. I 
 want to be careful about a child that I love as my 
 own. Can you furnish any other proof that you 
 are what you represent?" 
 
 " I judged that the letter would be sufficient. 
 Doesn't it speak of me as the nurse ? " 
 
 " True ; but how can we be sure that the writer is 
 Ida's mother?" 
 
 " The tone of the letter, sir. Would anybody else 
 write like that?" 
 
126 JACE?S WARD; OB, 
 
 "Then you have read the letter?" asked the 
 cooper, quickly. 
 
 " It was read to me before I set out." 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 " By Ida's mother. I do not blame you for your 
 caution," said the visitor. "You must be deeply 
 interested in the happiness of the dear child, of whom 
 you have taken such excellent care. I don't mind 
 telling you that I was the one who left her at your 
 door, seven years ago, and that I never left the 
 neighborhood until I saw you take her in." 
 
 " And it was this that enabled you to find the 
 house to-day ? " 
 
 "You forget," corrected the nurse, "that you 
 were not then living in this house, but in another, 
 some rods off, on the left-hand side of the street." 
 
 "You are right," said Timothy. " I am inclined 
 to believe in the truth of your story. You must par- 
 don my testing you in such a manner, but I was not 
 willing to yield up Ida, even for a little time, without 
 feeling confident of the hands she was falling into." 
 
 "You are right," said Mrs. Hardwick. "I don't 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 127 
 
 blame you in the least. I shall report it to Ida's 
 mother as a proof of your attachment to the child." 
 
 "When do you wish Ida to go with you?" asked 
 Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " Can you let her go this afternoon? " 
 
 "Why," said the cooper's wife, hesitating, "I 
 should like to have a chance to wash out some 
 clothes for her. I want her to appear as neat as 
 possible when she meets her mother." 
 
 The nurse hesitated, but presently replied, " I 
 don't wish to hurry you. If you will let me know 
 when she will be ready, I will call for her." 
 
 "I think I can get her ready early to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " That will answer. I will call for her then." 
 
 The nurse rose, and gathered her shawl about her. 
 
 "Where are you going, Mrs. Hard wick?" asked 
 the cooper's wife. 
 
 " To a hotel," was the reply. 
 
 "We cannot allow that," said Mrs. Harding, 
 kindly. "It's a pity if we cannot accommodate 
 Ida's old nurse for one night, or ten times as long, 
 for that matter." 
 
128 JACE?S WARD; OB, 
 
 " My wife is quite right," said the cooper, hesitat- 
 ingly. " We must insist on your stopping with us." 
 
 The nurse hesitated, and looked irresolute. It 
 was plain she would have preferred to be elsewhere, 
 but a remark which Mrs. Harding made, decided her 
 to accept the invitation. 
 
 It was this : " You know, Mrs. Hardwick, if Ida 
 is to go with you, she ought to have a little chance to 
 get acquainted with you before you go." 
 
 "I will accept your kind invitation," she said; 
 44 but I am afraid I shall be in your way." 
 
 " Not in the least. It will be a pleasure to us to 
 have you here. If you will excuse me now, I will go 
 out and attend to my dinner, which I am afraid is 
 getting behindhand." 
 
 Left to herself, the nurse behaved in a manner 
 which might be regarded as singular. She rose from 
 her seat, and approached the mirror. She took a full 
 survey of herself as she stood there, and laughed a 
 short, hard laugh. Then she made a formal cour- 
 tesy to her own reflection, saying, " How do you do, 
 Mrs. Hardwick?" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 129 
 
 "Did you speak?" asked the cooper, who was 
 passing through the entry on his way out. 
 
 "No," answered the nurse, rather awkwardly. 
 " I may have said something to myself. It's of no 
 consequence." 
 
 " Somehow," thought the cooper, " I don't fancy 
 the woman's looks ; but I dare say I am prejudiced. 
 We're all of us as God made us." 
 
 When Mrs. Harding was making preparations for 
 the noon-day meal, she imparted to Rachel the aston- 
 ishing information which has already been detailed to 
 the reader. 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it," said Rachel, reso- 
 lutely. " The woman's an impostor. I knew she 
 was, the very minute I set eyes on her." 
 
 This remark was so characteristic of Rachel, that 
 her sister-in-law did not attach any special importance 
 to it. Rachel, of course, had no grounds for the 
 opinion she so confidently expressed. It was con- 
 sistent, however, with her general estimate of human 
 nature. 
 
 " What object could she have in inventing such a 
 story? " asked Mrs. Harding. 
 
130 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 "What object? Hundreds of 'em," said Rachel, 
 rather indefinitely. " Mark my words ; if you let her 
 carry off Ida, it'll be the last you'll ever see of her." 
 
 " Try to look on the bright side, Rachel. Nothing 
 is more natural than that her mother should want to 
 see her." 
 
 "Why couldn't she come herself?" muttered 
 Rachel. 
 
 " The letter explains." 
 
 " I don't see that it does." 
 
 "It says that same reasons exist for concealment 
 as ever." 
 
 "And what are they, I should like to know? I 
 don't like mysteries, for my part." 
 
 "We won't quarrel with them, at any rate, since 
 they enable us to keep Ida with us." 
 
 Aunt Rachel shook her head, as if she were far 
 from satisfied. 
 
 "I don't know," said Mrs. Harding," "but I 
 ought to invite Mrs. Hardwick in here. I have left 
 her alone in the front room." 
 
 "I don't want to see her," said Rachel. Then, 
 changing her mind suddenly, "Yes, you may bring 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 131 
 
 her in. Til soon find out whether she's an impostoi 
 or not." 
 
 The cooper's wife returned with the nurse. 
 
 "Mrs. Hardwick," she said, "this is my sister, 
 Miss Rachel Harding." 
 
 "I am glad to make your acquaintance, ma'am/* 
 said the visitor. 
 
 " Rachel, I will leave you to entertain Mrs. Hard- 
 wick, while I get ready the dinner." 
 
 Rachel and the nurse eyed each other with mutual 
 dislike. 
 
 " I hope you don't expect me to entertain you," 
 said Rachel. " I never expect to entertain anybody 
 ag'in. This is a world of trial and tribulation, and 
 I've had my share. So you've come after Ida, I 
 hear?" with a sudden change of tone. 
 
 " At her mother's request," said the nurse. 
 
 " She wants to see her, then?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "I wonder she didn't think of it before," said 
 Rachel, sharply. " She's good at wailing. She's 
 waited seven years." 
 
132 JActfs WARD; OB, 
 
 44 There are circumstances that cannot be ex- 
 plained," commenced the nurse. 
 
 "No, I dare say not," said Kachel, drily. " So 
 you were her nurse ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," answered the nurse, who did not 
 appear to enjoy this cross-examination. 
 
 " Have you lived with Ida's mother ever since?" 
 
 "No, yes," stammered the stranger. "Some 
 of the time," she added, recovering herself. 
 
 " Umph ! " grunted Rachel, darting a sharp glance 
 at her. 
 
 "Have you a husband living?" inquired the spin- 
 ster. 
 
 " Yes," answered Mrs. Hardwick. " Have you? " 
 
 "I!" repeated Rachel, scornfully. "No, neither 
 living nor dead. I'm thankful to say I never mar- 
 ried. I've had trials enough without that. Does 
 Ida's mother live in the city ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you," said the nurse. 
 
 " Humph, I don't like mystery." 
 " It isn't any mystery," said the visitor. " If you 
 have any objections to make, you must make them to 
 Ida's mother." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 133 
 
 " So I will, if you'll tell me where she lives." 
 
 " I can't do that." 
 
 "Where do you live yourself?" inquired Kachel, 
 shifting her point of attack. 
 
 "In Brooklyn," answered Mrs. Hardwick, with 
 some hesitation. 
 
 "What street, and number?" 
 . "Why do you want to know?" inquired the 
 nurse. 
 
 " You aint ashamed to tell, be you? " 
 
 "Why should I be?" 
 
 " I don't know. You'd orter know better than I.* 
 
 " It wouldn't do you any good to know," said the 
 nurse. " I don't care about receiving visitors." 
 
 " I don't want to visit you, I am sure," said 
 Kachel, tossing her head. 
 
 " Then } r ou don't need to know where I live." 
 
 Kachel left the room, and sought her sister-in-law. 
 
 "That woman's an impostor," she said. "She 
 won't tell where she lives. I shouldn't be surprised 
 if she turns out to be a thief." 
 
 " You haven't any reason for supposing that, 
 Rachel." 
 
134 JACI?S WARD; GJZ, 
 
 " Wait and see," said Rachel. " Of course I don't 
 
 expect you to pay any attention to what I say. I 
 
 haven't any influence in this house." 
 
 "Now, Rachel, you have no cause to say that." 
 But Rachel was not to be appeased. It pleased 
 
 her to be considered a martyr, and at such times 
 
 there was little use in arguing with her. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PREPARING FOR A JOURNEY. 
 
 LATER in the day, Ida returned from school. She 
 bounded into the room, as usual, but stopped short in 
 some confusion, on seeing a stranger. 
 
 " Is this my own dear child, over whose infancy I 
 watched so tenderly?" exclaimed the nurse, rising, 
 her harsh features wreathed into a smile. 
 
 " It is Ida," said the cooper's wife. 
 
 Ida looked from one to the other in silent bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 4 'Ida," said Mrs. Harding, in a little embarrass- 
 ment, " this is Mrs. Hardwick, who took care of you 
 when you were an infant." 
 
 " But I thought you took care of me, mother," 
 said Ida, in surprise. 
 
 44 Very true," said Mrs. Harding, evasively ; " but 
 I was not able to have the care of you all the time. 
 Didn't I ever mention Mrs. Hardwick to you?" 
 
136 JActfs WARD; OB, 
 
 < No, mother." 
 
 " Although it is so long since I have seen her, 1 
 should have known her anywhere," said the nurse, 
 applying a handkerchief to her eyes. " So pretty as 
 ehe's grown up, too ! " 
 
 Mrs. Harding glanced with pride at the beautiful 
 child, who blushed at the compliment, a rare one, for 
 her adopted mother, whatever she might think, did 
 not approve of openly praising her appearance. 
 
 " Ida," said Mrs. Hardwick, ** won't you come and 
 kiss your old nurse ? " 
 
 Ida looked at her hard face, which now wore a 
 smile intended to express aflection. Without know- 
 ing why, she felt an instinctive repugnance to this 
 stranger, notwithstanding her words of endear- 
 ment. 
 
 She advanced timidly, with a reluctance which she 
 was not wholly able to conceal, and passively sub- 
 mitted to a caress from the nurse. 
 
 There was a look in the eyes of the nurse, carefully 
 guarded, yet not wholly concealed, which showed 
 that she was quite aware of Ida's feeling towards her, 
 and resented it. But whether or not she was playing 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 137 
 
 a part, she did not betray this feeling openly, but 
 pressed the unwilling child more closely to her 
 bosom 
 
 Ida breathed a sigh of relief when she was re- 
 leased, and moved quietly away, wondering what it 
 was that made the woman so disagreeable to her. 
 
 " Is my nurse a good woman?" she asked, thought- 
 fully, when alone with Mrs, Harding, who was set- 
 ting the table for dinner. 
 
 "A good woman! What makes you ask that?" 
 queried her adopted mother, in surprise. 
 
 " I don't know," said Ida. 
 
 "I don't know anything to indicate that she is 
 otherwise," said Mrs. Harding. " And, by the way, 
 Ida, she is going to take you on a little excursion 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " She going to take me ! " exclaimed Ida. " Why, 
 where are we going? " 
 
 44 On a little pleasure-trip ; and perhaps she may 
 introduce you to a pleasant lady, who has already 
 become interested in you, from what she has told 
 her." 
 
188 JACE*S WARD; OR, 
 
 "What could she say of me?" inquired Ida. 
 " She has not seen me since I was a baby." 
 
 "Why," answered the cooper's wife, a little puz- 
 zled, "she appears to have thought of you ever 
 eince, with a good deal of affection." 
 
 " Is it wicked," asked Ida, after a pause, " not to 
 like those who like us ? " 
 
 " What makes you ask?" 
 
 "Because, somehow or other, I don't like this 
 Mrs. Hardwick, at all, for all she was my old nurse, 
 and I don't believe I ever shall." 
 
 " Oh, yes, you will," said Mrs. Harding, " when 
 you find she is exerting herself to give you pleasure." 
 
 "Am I going with her to-morrow morning?" 
 
 " Yes. She wanted you to go to-day, but your 
 clothes were not in order." 
 
 " We shall come back at night, sha'n't we?" 
 
 " I presume so." 
 
 "I hope we shall," said Ida, decidedly, " and that 
 she won't want me to go with her again." 
 
 "Perhaps you will feel differently when it is over, 
 and you find you have enjoyed yourself better than 
 you anticipated." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 139 
 
 Mrs. Harding exerted herself to fit Ida up as neatly 
 as possible, and when at length she was got ready, 
 she thought with sudden fear, " Perhaps her mother 
 will not be willing to part with her again." 
 
 When Ida was ready to start, there came upon all 
 a little shadow of depression, as if the child were to 
 be separated from them for a year, and not for a day 
 only. Perhaps this was only natural, since even this 
 latter term, however brief, was longer than they had 
 been parted from her since, in her infancy, she had 
 been left at their door. 
 
 The nurse expressly desired that none of the family 
 should accompany her, as she declared it highly im- 
 portant, that the whereabouts of Ida's mother should 
 not be known. 
 
 " Of course," she added, " after Ida returns, she 
 can tell you what she pleases. Then it will be of no 
 consequence, for her mother will be gone. She does 
 not live in this neighborhood. She has onty come 
 here to see her child." 
 
 11 Shall you bring her back to-night? " asked Mrs. 
 Harding. 
 
 " I may keep her till to-morrow," said the nurse. 
 
140 JActfs WARD; o*, 
 
 " After seven years' absence her mother will think 
 that short enough." 
 
 To this, Mrs. Harding agreed, though she felt that 
 she should miss Ida, though absent but twenty-four 
 hours. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE JOUBNET. 
 
 THE nurse walked as far as Broadway, holding Ida 
 by the hand. 
 
 "Where are we going?" asked the child, timidly. 
 11 Are you going to walk all the way? " 
 
 4 'No," said the nurse ; " not all the way perhaps 
 a mile. You can walk as far as that, can't you? " 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 They walked on till they reached the ferry at the 
 foot of Courtland Street. 
 
 "Did you ever ride in a steamboat?" asked the 
 nurse in a tone meant to be gracious. 
 
 "Once or twice," answered Ida. "I went with 
 brother Jack once, over to Hoboken. Are we going 
 there now?" 
 
 "No; we are going to the city you see over the 
 water." 
 
 " What place is it ? Is it Brooklyn ? * 
 
142 JACK'S WARD; o&, 
 
 " No ; it is Jersey City." 
 
 " Oh, that will be pleasant," said Ida, forgetting, 
 in her childish love of novelty, the repugnance with 
 which the nurse had inspired her. 
 
 "Yes, and that is not all; we are going still fur- 
 ther," said the nurse. 
 
 " Are we going further? " asked Ida in excitement. 
 " Where are we going?" 
 
 " To a town on the line of the railroad." 
 
 " And shall we ride in the cars? " asked Ida with 
 animation. 
 
 " Yes ; didn't you ever ride in the cars? " 
 
 " No, never." 
 
 " I think you will like it." 
 
 " Oh, I know I shall. How fast do the cars go?" 
 
 u Oh, a good many miles an hour maybe thirty." 
 
 " And how long will it take us to go to the place 
 you are going to carry me to ? " 
 
 " I don't know exactly ; perhaps three hours." 
 
 " Three whole hours in the cars ! " exclaimed Ida. 
 " How much I shall have to tell father and Jack when 
 I get back!" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 143 
 
 " So you will," replied Mrs. Hardwick, with an 
 unaccountable smile, " when you get back." 
 
 There was something peculiar in her tone, but Ida 
 did not notice it. 
 
 Sc Ida was already enjoying her journey more than 
 she anticipated. 
 
 She was allowed to sit next the window in the cars r 
 and took great pleasure in surveying the fields and 
 villages through which they were rapidly whirled. 
 
 "Are we most there?" she asked, after riding 
 about two hours. 
 
 " It won't be long," said the nurse. 
 
 4 'We must have come ever so many miles," said 
 Ida. 
 
 " Yes, it is a good ways." 
 
 An hour more passed, and still there was no sign 
 of reaching their journey's end. Both Ida and her 
 companion began to feel hungry. 
 
 The nurse beckoned to her side a boy, who was 
 going through the cars selling apples and cakes, and 
 inquired the price. 
 
 " The apples are two cents apiece, ma'am, and the 
 cakes are one cent each." 
 
144 JACX'S WARD; OB, 
 
 Ida, who had been looking out of the window, 
 turned suddenly round, and exclaimed, in great 
 astonishment, " Why Charlie Fitts, is that you? " 
 
 "Why, Ida, where did you come from?" asked 
 the boy, with a surprise equalling her own. 
 
 The nurse bit her lips in vexation at this unex- 
 pected recognition. 
 
 " I'm making a little journey with this lady," said 
 Ida. 
 
 " So you're going to Philadelphia?" said Charlie. 
 
 " To Philadelphia ! " repeated Ida, surprised. 
 " Not that I know of." 
 
 " Why, you're 'most there now." 
 
 " Are we, Mrs. Hardwick?" inquired Ida, looking 
 up into her companion's face. 
 
 "It isn't far from where we're going," she an- 
 swered shortly. " Boy, I'll take two of your apples, 
 and four cakes. And now you'd better go along, for 
 there's somebody over there that looks as if he 
 wanted to buy something." 
 
 Charlie looked as if he would like to question Ida 
 further, but her companion looked forbidding, and he 
 passed on reluctantly. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 145 
 
 " Who is that boy?" asked the nurse, abruptly. 
 
 " His name is Charlie Fitts." 
 
 " Where did you get acquainted with him?" 
 
 " He went to school with Jack, so I used to see 
 him sometimes." 
 
 4 'With Jack?" 
 
 " Yes, brother Jack. Don't you know him? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I forgot. So he's a school-mate of 
 Jack, is he?" 
 
 " Yes, and he's a first-rate boy," said Ida, with 
 whom the young car-merchant was evidently a favor- 
 ite. "He's good to his mother. You see, his 
 mother is sick most of the time, and can't work 
 much; and he's got a little sister she aint more 
 than four or five years old and Charlie supports 
 them by selling things. He's only sixteen years old ; 
 isn't he a smart boy ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the nurse, indifferently. 
 
 "Sometime," continued Ida, "I hope I shall be 
 able to earn something for father and mother, so they 
 won't be obliged to work so hard." 
 
 " What could you do?" asked the nurse, curiously. 
 
 " I don't know as I can do much yet," answered 
 10 
 
146 JACK'S WARD; o* ? 
 
 Ida, modestly ; " but perhaps when I am older I can 
 draw pictures that people will buy." 
 
 " Do you know how to draw?" 
 
 " Yes : I've been taking lessons for over a year." 
 
 "How do you like it?" 
 
 " Oh ! ever so much. I like it much better than 
 music." 
 
 " Do you know anything of that? " 
 
 " Yes. I can play a few easy pieces." 
 
 Mrs. Hardwick looked surprised, and regarded her 
 young charge with curiosity. 
 
 " Have you got any of your drawings with you?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " No, I didn't bring any." 
 
 "I wish you had. The lady we are going to see 
 would have liked to see some of them." 
 
 " Are we going to see a lady ? " 
 
 " Yes ; didn't your mother tell you?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe she said something about a lady 
 that was interested in me." 
 
 "That's the one." 
 
 "Where does she live? When shall we get 
 there?" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 147 
 
 " We shall get there before long." 
 
 44 And shall we come back to New York to-night?** 
 
 44 No ; it wouldn't leave us any time to stay. Be- 
 sides, I feel tired, and want to rest ; don't you ? " 
 
 " I do feel a little tired," acknowledged Ida. 
 
 "West Philadelphia!" announced the conductor,, 
 as the train ran into a long depot. 
 
 44 We have arrived," said the nurse. " Keep close 
 to me, or you may get lost. Perhaps you had better 
 take hold of my hand." 
 
 As they were making their way slowly through the 
 crowd, the young apple-merchant came up with Ms- 
 basket on his arm. 
 
 44 When are you going back, Ida? " he asked. 
 
 u Mrs. Hardwick says we sha'n't go back till 
 to-morrow." 
 
 44 Come, Ida," said the nurse, sharply. "I can't 
 have you stopping all day to talk. We must hurry 
 along." 
 
 44 Good-by, Charlie," said Ida. " If you see Jack r 
 just tell him you saw me." 
 
 44 Yes, I will," was the reply. 
 
 44 1 wonder who that woman is with Ida?" though! 
 
148 JACK'S WARD; O.R, 
 
 the boy. "I don't like her looks much. I wonder 
 if she's any relation of Mr. Harding. She looks 
 about as pleasant as Aunt Rachel." 
 
 The last-mentioned lady would hardly have felt 
 flattered at the comparison. 
 
 Ida looked about her with curiosity. There was a 
 novel sensation in being in a new place, particularly 
 a city of which she had heard so much as Philadel- 
 phia. As far back as she could remember, she had 
 never left New York, except for a brief excursion to 
 Hoboken ; and one Fourth of July was made memor- 
 able by a trip to Staten Island, under the guardian- 
 ship of Jack. 
 
 " Is this Philadelphia?" she inquired. 
 
 " Yes," said her companion, shortly. 
 
 " How far is it from New York? " 
 
 " I don't know ; a hundred miles, more or less." 
 
 " A hundred miles ! " repeated Ida, awe-struck ; for 
 to her it seemed an immense distance. " Am I a 
 hundred miles from father, and mother, and Jack, 
 and and Aunt Eachel ? " 
 
 The last name was mentioned rather as an after- 
 thought, as if Ida felt it an act of duty to include the 
 
THE SOT GUAEDIAN. 149 
 
 melancholy spinster, who certainly had never erred in 
 the way of over-indulgence to our heroine. 
 
 " Why, yes, of course you are," replied Mrs. Hard- 
 wick, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Here, get into this 
 car." 
 
 They entered a horse-car just outside the depot, 
 and rode probably a mile. 
 
 " We get out here," said the nurse. " Take care, 
 or you'll get run over. Now turn down here." 
 
 They entered a narrow and dirty street, with un- 
 sightly houses on each side. 
 
 " This aint a very nice looking street," said Ida, 
 looking about her. 
 
 "Why isn't it?" demanded her companion, 
 roughly. 
 
 "Why, it's narrow, and the houses don't look 
 nice." 
 
 " What do you think of that house there?" asked 
 Mrs. Hardwick, pointing to a dilapidated-looking 
 structure on the right-hand side of the street. 
 
 "I shouldn't like to live there," answered Ida, 
 after a brief survey. 
 
150 JACE?S WARD; ox, 
 
 " You wouldn't, hey? You don't like it so well as 
 the house you live in in New York ? " 
 
 "No, not half so well." 
 
 The nurse smiled. 
 
 "Wouldn't you like to go in, and look at the 
 house ? " she asked. 
 
 "Go in and look at the house?" repeated Ida. 
 "Why should we?" 
 
 "You must know there are some poor families 
 living there that I am interested in," said Mrs. Hard- 
 wick, who appeared amused at something. "Didn't 
 your mother ever tell you that it is our duty to help 
 the poor?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, but won't it be late before we get to the 
 lady?" 
 
 " No, there's plenty of time. You needn't be 
 afraid of that. There's a poor man living in this 
 house that I've made a good many clothes for, first 
 and last," proceeded the nurse. 
 
 " He must be much obliged to you," said Ida, 
 thinking that Mrs. Hardwick was a better woman 
 than she had given her credit for. 
 
 " We're going up to see him now," said her com- 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 151 
 
 pardon. " Take care of that hole in the stairs. 
 
 Here we are." 
 
 Somewhat to Ida's surprise, her guide, on reaching 
 the first landing, opened a door without the ceremony 
 of knocking, and revealed a poor, untidy room, in 
 which a coarse, unshaven man was sitting, in his 
 shirt-sleeves, smoking a pipe. 
 
 " Hallo ! " exclaimed this individual, jumping up 
 suddenly. " So you've got along, old woman! Is 
 that the gal?" 
 
 Ida stared from one to the other in unaffected 
 amazement. 
 
152 JActfs WARD; 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. 
 
 THE appearance of the man whom Mrs. Hardwick 
 addressed so familiarly was more picturesque than 
 pleasing. He had a large, broad face, which, not 
 having been shaved for a week, looked like a wilder- 
 ness of stubble. His nose indicated habitual indul- 
 gence in alcoholic beverages. His eyes, likewise, 
 were bloodshot, and his skin looked coarse and 
 blotched; his coat was thrown aside, displaying a 
 shirt which bore evidence of having been useful in its 
 day and generation. The same remark may apply 
 to his nether integuments, which were ventilated at 
 each knee, indicating a most praiseworthy regard to 
 the laws of health. 
 
 He was sitting in a chair pitched back against the 
 wall, with his feet resting on another, and he had a 
 short Dutch pipe in his mouth, from which dense vol- 
 umes of smoke were pouring. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 153 
 
 Ida thought she had never seen so disgusting a 
 man. She continued to gaze at him, half in aston- 
 ishment, half in terror, till the object of her attention 
 exclaimed, 
 
 "Well, little gal, what you're lookin' at? Hain't 
 you never seen a gentleman before ? " 
 
 Ida clung the closer to her companion, who, she 
 was surprised to find, did not resent the man's famil- 
 iarity. 
 
 " Well, Dick, how*ve you got along since I've been 
 gone?" asked the nurse, to Ida's unbounded aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 "Oh, so so." 
 
 " Have you felt lonely any?" 
 
 " I've had good company." 
 
 "Who's been here?" 
 
 Dick pointed significantly to a jug which stood 
 beside him. 
 
 " That's the best company I know of," he said, 
 " but it's most empty. So you've brought along the 
 gal," he continued. "How did you get hold of 
 her?" 
 
 There was something in these questions which tor 
 
154 jActfs WARD; ox, 
 
 rifled Ida. It seemed to indicate a degree of com- 
 plicity between these two which boded no good to her. 
 
 "I'll tell you the particulars by and by," said the 
 woman, looking significantly at the child's expressive 
 face. 
 
 At the same time she began to take off her bonnet. 
 
 "You aint going to stop, are you?" asked Ida, 
 startled. 
 
 "Aint goin' to stop?" repeated the man called 
 Dick. " Why shouldn't she stop, I'd like to know? 
 Aint she at home ? " 
 
 " At home ! " echoed Ida, apprehensively, opening 
 wide her eyes in astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, ask her." 
 
 Ida looked inquiringly at Mrs. Hardwick. 
 
 " You might as well take off your things," said the 
 latter, grimly. " We aint going any farther to-day." 
 
 " And where's the lady you said you were going to 
 see?" 
 
 " The one that was interested in you? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, I'm the one," she answered, with a broad 
 smile and a glance at Dick. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 155 
 
 *' You I " repeated the child in dismay. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I don't want to stay here," said Ida, becoming 
 frightened. 
 
 " Well, what are you going to do about it? " asked 
 the woman, mockingly. 
 
 "Will you take me back early to-morrow?" 
 entreated Ida. 
 
 " No, I don't intend to take you back at all," said 
 the woman, coolly. 
 
 Ida seemed at first stupefied with astonishment and 
 terror. Then, actuated by a sudden desperate im- 
 pulse, she ran to the door, and had got it partly 
 open, when the nurse sprang forward, and seizing 
 her by the arm, pulled her violently back. 
 
 " Where are you going in such a hurry?" she 
 demanded, sternly. 
 
 " Back to father and mother," answered Ida, 
 bursting into tears. " Oh, why did you bring me 
 here?" 
 
 "I'll tell you why," answered Dick, jocularly. 
 " You ee, Ida, we aint got any little girl to love us, 
 and so we got you." 
 
156 JACK'S WARD; ox, 
 
 " But I don't love you, and I never shall," said 
 Ida, indignantly. 
 
 4 'Now don't you go to saying that," said Dick. 
 44 You'll break my heart, you naughty girl, and then 
 Peg will be a widow." 
 
 To give due effect to this pathetic speech, Dick 
 drew out a tattered red handkerchief, and made a 
 great demonstration of wiping his eyes. 
 
 The whole scene was so ludicrous, that Ida, despite 
 her fears and disgust, could not help laughing hyster- 
 ically. She recovered herself instantly, and said im- 
 ploringty, " Oh, do let me go, and father will pay 
 you ; I know he will." 
 
 u You really think he would?" said Dick, in a 
 tantalizing tone. 
 
 "Oh, yes; and you'll tell her to take me back, 
 won't you?" 
 
 " No, he won't tell me any such thing," said Peg, 
 gruffly ; " and if he did, I wouldn't do it ; so you may 
 as well give up all thoughts of that first as last. 
 You're going to stay here ; so take off that bonnet of 
 yours, and say no more about it." 
 
IDA ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 157 
 
 Ida made no motion towards obeying this man- 
 date. 
 
 44 Then 1*11 do it for you," said Peg. 
 
 She roughly untied the bonnet, Ida struggling 
 vainly in opposition, and taking this, with the 
 shawl, carried them to a closet, in which she placed 
 them, and then, locking the door, deliberately put 
 the key in her pocket. 
 
 "There," said she, grimly, "I guess you're safe 
 for the present." 
 
 "Aint you ever going to carry me back?" asked 
 Ida, wishing to know the worst. 
 
 " Some years hence I may possibly," answered the 
 woman, coolly. " We want you here for the present. 
 Besides, you're not sure that they want you back." 
 
 44 Not want me back again? " 
 
 44 That's what I said. How do you know but your 
 father and mother sent you off on purpose ? They've 
 been troubled with you long enough, and now they've 
 bound you apprentice to me till you're eighteen." 
 
 44 It's a lie," said Ida, firmly. 44 They didn't send 
 me off, and you're a wicked woman to tell me so." 
 
 " Hoity-toitv I " said the woman, pausing and look- 
 
158 JACK'S WARD; oj?, 
 
 ing menacingly at the child. "Is that the way yon 
 dare to speak to me ? Have you anything more to 
 say before I whip you ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Ida, goaded to desperation. " I 
 shall complain of you to the police, just as soon as I 
 get a chance, and they will put you in jail and send 
 me home. That is what I will do." 
 
 Mrs. Hardwick was incensed, and somewhat 
 startled at these defiant words. It was clear that Ida 
 was not going to be a meek, submissive child, whom 
 they might ill-treat without apprehension. She was 
 decidedly dangerous, and her insubordination must be 
 nipped in the bud. She seized Ida roughly by the 
 arm, and striding with her to the closet already 
 spoken of, unlocked it, and, rudely pushing her in r 
 locked the door after her. 
 
 " Stay there till you know how to behave," she said. 
 
 " She's a spunky 'un," remarked Dick, taking the 
 pipe from his mouth. 
 
 " Yes," replied the woman. " She makes more 
 fuss than I thought she would." 
 
 " How did you manage to coine it over her family? * 
 inquired Dick. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 
 
 His wife gave substantially the account with which 
 the reader is already familiar. 
 
 "Pretty well done, old woman!" exclaimed Dick T 
 approvingly. "I always said you was a deep 'un. 
 I always say, if Peg can't find out how a thing is- 
 to be done, then it can't be done, nohow." 
 
 This was coarse praise, but the wife seemed grati- 
 fied, and her grim features relaxed into a smile. 
 
 4 'How about the counterfeit coin?" she asked r 
 after a pause. 
 
 " We're to be supplied with all we can put off, and 
 we are to have half for our trouble." 
 
 u That is good," said the woman, thoughtfully. 
 "When the girl Ida gets a little tamed down, we'll 
 give her something to do." 
 
 ' Is it safe ? Won't she betray us ? " 
 
 " We'll manage that, or at least I will. I'll work 
 on her fears, so she won't any more dare to say a 
 word about us than to cut her own head off." 
 
 "All right, Peg. I can trust you to do whatfa 
 right." 
 
 Ida sank down on the floor of the closet into which 
 she had been thrust. Utter darkness was around her r 
 
160 JACK'S WARD; OJB, 
 
 and a darkness as black seemed to hang over all her 
 prospects of future happiness. She had been 
 snatched in a moment from parents, or those whom 
 she regarded as such, and from a comfortable and 
 happy, though humble home, to this dismal place. 
 In place of the kindness and indulgence to which she 
 had been accustomed, she was now treated with 
 harshness and cruelty. What wonder that her heart 
 desponded, and that her tears of childish sorrow 
 flowed freely ? 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SUSPENSE. 
 
 " IT doesn't, somehow, seem natural," said the 
 cooper, as he took his seat at the tea-table, " to sit 
 down without Ida. It seems as if half the family 
 were gone." 
 
 "Just what I've said to myself twenty times to- 
 day," remarked his wife. " Nobody can tell how 
 much a child is to them till they lose it." 
 
 "Not lose it," corrected Jack, who had been sit- 
 ting in a silence unusual for him, 
 
 " I didn't mean to say that. The word happened 
 to slip out, that's all. I only meant till it was gone 
 away for a time." 
 
 "When you used that word, mother, it made me 
 feel just as if Ida wasn't coming back." 
 
 "I don't know why it is," said Mrs. Harding, 
 
 thoughtfully, " but I've had that same feeling several 
 11 
 
162 JACS WARD; OB, 
 
 times to-day. I've felt just as if something or othei 
 would happen to prevent Ida's coming back." 
 
 "That is only because she's never been away 
 before," said the cooper, cheerfully. "It isn't best 
 to borrow trouble, Martha ; we shall have enough of 
 it without." 
 
 "You never said a truer word, brother," said 
 Rachel, mournfully. " Man is born to trouble as the 
 sparks fly upwards. This world is a vale of tears, 
 and a home of misery. Folks may try and try to 
 be happy, but that isn't what they're sent here for." 
 
 "You never tried very hard, Aunt Rachel," said 
 Jack. 
 
 " It's my fate to be misjudged," said his aunt with 
 the air of a martyr. 
 
 " I vlon't agree with you in your ideas about life, 
 Rachel," said her brother. " Just as there are more 
 pleasant than stormy days, so I believe there is much 
 more of brightness than shadow in this life of ours, 
 if we would only see it." 
 
 " I can't see it," said Rachel, shaking her head 
 very decidedly. 
 
 " Perhaps you could if you tried." 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 163 
 
 So I do." 
 
 " It seems to me, Rachel, you take more pains to 
 look at the clouds than the sun." 
 
 "Yes," chimed in Jack, "I've noticed whenever 
 Aunt Rachel takes up the newspaper, she always 
 looks first at the deaths, and next at the fatal acci- 
 dents and steamboat explosions." 
 
 " If," retorted Rachel, with severe emphasis, "you 
 should ever be on board a steamboat when it ex- 
 ploded, you wouldn't find much to laugh at." 
 
 " Yes, I should," said Jack, " I should laugh " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Rachel, horrified. 
 
 " On the other side of my mouth," concluded Jack. 
 " You didn't wait till I'd finished the sentence." 
 
 " I don't think it proper to make light of such 
 serious matters." 
 
 " Nor I, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, drawing down 
 the corners of his mouth. " I am willing to confess 
 that this is a serious matter. I should feel as they 
 say the cow did, that was thrown three hundred feet 
 up into the air." 
 
 "How's that?" inquired his mother. 
 
 " Rather discouraged," answered Jack. 
 
164: JACK'S WARD; <XR, 
 
 All laughed except Aunt Rachel, who preserved 
 the same severe composure, and continued to eat the 
 pie upon her plate with the air of one gulping down 
 medicine. 
 
 So the evening passed. All seemed to miss Ida. 
 Mrs. Harding found herself stealing glances at the 
 smaller chair beside her own in which Ida usually 
 sat. The cooper seemed abstracted, and did not take 
 as much interest as usual in the evening paper. Jack 
 was restless, and found it difficult to fix his attention 
 upon anything. Even Aunt Rachel looked more 
 dismal than usual, if such a thing be possible. 
 
 In the morning all felt more cheerful. 
 
 " Ida will be home to-night," said Mrs. Harding, 
 brightly. u What an age it seems since she went 
 away ! Who'd think it was only twenty-four hours ? " 
 
 " We shall know better how to appreciate her 
 when we get her back," said her husband. 
 
 " What time do you expect her home, mother? 
 What did Mrs. Hardwick say ? " 
 
 " Why," said Mrs. Harding, hesitating, " she 
 didn't say as to the hour; but I guess she'll be 
 along in the course of the afternoon." 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 165 
 
 " If we only knew where she had gone, we could 
 tell better when to expect her." 
 
 " But as we don't know," said the cooper, " we 
 must wait patiently till she comes." 
 
 "I guess," said Mrs. Harding, with the impulse 
 of a notable housewife, " I'll make some apple turn- 
 overs for supper to-night. There's nothing Ida likes 
 so well." 
 
 " That's where Ida is right," said Jack, smacking 
 his lips. Apple turnovers are splendid." 
 
 " They are very unwholesome," remarked Rachel. 
 
 " I shouldn't think so from the way you eat them, 
 Aunt Rachel," retorted Jack. "You ate four the 
 last time we had them for supper." 
 
 " I didn't think you'd begrudge me the little I 
 eat," said his aunt, dolefully. " I didn't think you 
 counted the mouthfuls I took." 
 
 "Come, Rachel, don't be unreasonable," said her 
 brother, " Nobody begrudges you what you eat, 
 even if you choose to eat twice as much as you do. 
 I dare say Jack ate more of the turnovers than you 
 did." 
 
 " I ate six," said Jack, candidly. 
 
166 JACX?S WARD; oj?, 
 
 Rachel, construing this into an apology, said no 
 more ; but, feeling it necessary to explain why she ate 
 what she admitted to be unwholesome, she added, 
 
 " If I do eat what's unwholesome, it's because life 
 aint of any value to me. The sooner I get out of 
 this vale of affliction, the better." 
 
 " And the way you take to get out of it," said 
 Jack, gravely,'' is by eating apple turnovers. When 
 you die, Aunt Rachel, we shall have to put a para- 
 graph in the papers, headed, ' Suicide by eating apple 
 turnovers.' " 
 
 Rachel intimated in reply that she presumed it 
 would give Jack a great deal of satisfaction to write 
 such a paragraph. 
 
 " No, it wouldn't," said Jack. " If it wasn't for 
 you, Aunt Rachel, I should be in danger of getting 
 too jolly, perhaps, and spilling over. It always 
 makes me sober to look at you." 
 
 "It's lucky there's something to make you sober 
 and stiddy," said his aunt. "You are too friv- 
 olous." 
 
 " Were you ever frivolous, Aunt Rachel? " 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 167 
 
 " Never ! " said his aunt, with emphasis. " I de- 
 spise it." 
 
 The day wore away, and evening came, but it did 
 not bring Ida. 
 
 The family began to feel alarmed. An indefinable 
 sense of apprehension oppressed the minds of all. 
 Martha feared that Ida's mother finding her so attract- 
 ive, could not resist the temptation of keeping her. 
 
 44 1 suppose," she said, " that she has the best 
 claim to her but it would be a terrible thing for us to 
 part with her." 
 
 4 'Don't let us trouble ourselves about that," said 
 Timothy. 44 It seems to me very natural that her 
 mother should keep her a little longer than she 
 intended. Think how long it is, since she saw her. 
 Besides it is not too late for her to return to-night." 
 
 This cheered his wife a little. 
 
 The evening passed slowly. 
 
 At length there came a knock at the door. 
 
 " I guess that is Ida," said Mrs. Harding, joyfully. 
 
 Jack seized a candle, and hastening to the door, 
 threw it open. But there was no Ida there. In her 
 
168 JACE?S WARD; O.R, 
 
 place stood William Fitts, the boy who had met Ida 
 in the cars. 
 
 "How are you, Bill?" said Jack, trying not to 
 look disappointed. " Come in, and take a seat, 
 and tell us all the news." 
 
 " Well," said William, " I don't know of any. 
 I suppose Ida has got home ? " 
 
 " No," answered Jack ; " we expected her to-night, 
 but she hasn't come yet." 
 
 " She told me she expected to come back to-day,*' 
 said the young apple-merchant. 
 
 "What! have you seen her?" exclaimed all in 
 chorus. 
 
 " Yes ; I saw her yesterday noon." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Why, in the cars," answered William, surprised 
 at the question. 
 
 " What cars?" asked the cooper. 
 
 "Why, the Philadelphia cars. Of course you 
 knew it was there she was going?" 
 
 "Philadelphia!" exclaimed all in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, the cars were almost there when I saw her 
 Who was that with her?" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 169 
 
 " Mrs. Hardwick, her old nurse." 
 
 " I did I't like her looks." 
 
 " That's where we paddle in the same canoe," said 
 Jack. 
 
 " She didn't seem to want me to speak to Ida," 
 continued William, " but hurried her off as quick as 
 possible." 
 
 " There were reasons for that," said the cooper. 
 " She wanted to keep her destination secret." 
 
 " I don't know what it was," said the boy, but I 
 don't like the woman's looks." 
 
 44 Nor I," said Aunt Rachel. "I've always said 
 she's an impostor." 
 
 The family felt a little relieved by this chance 
 information, and thought it less strange that Ida had 
 outstay ec her time, now that they knew where she 
 was. 
 
170 JACK'S WARD; 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HOW IDA FARED. 
 
 WE left Ida confined in a dark closet, with Peg 
 standing guard over her. 
 
 After an hour she was released. 
 
 u Well," said the nurse, grimly, " how do you feel 
 now?" 
 
 " 1 want to go home," sobbed the child. 
 
 " You are at home," said the woman. " This is 
 going to be your home now." 
 
 " Shall I never see father, and mother, and Jack 
 again?" 
 
 "Why," answered Peg, "that depends on how 
 you behave yourself." 
 
 " Oh, if you will only let ine go," pleaded Ida, 
 gathering hope from this remark, " I'll do anything 
 you say." 
 
 " Do you mean this, or do you only say it for the 
 sake of getting away?" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 171 
 
 *' I mean just what I say. Dear, good Mrs. Hard- 
 wick, just tell me what I am to do, and I will obey 
 you cheerfully." 
 
 "Very well," said Peg, " only you needn't try to 
 come it over me by calling me dear, good Mrs. Hard- 
 wick. In the first place, you don't care a cent about 
 me ; in the second place, I am not good ; and finally, 
 my name isn't Mrs. Hardwick, except in New York." 
 
 " What is it, then? " asked Ida. 
 
 "It's just Peg, no more and no less. You may 
 call me Aunt Peg." 
 
 " I would rather call you Mrs. Hardwick." 
 
 "Then you'll have a good many years to call me 
 so. You'd better do as I tell you, if you want any 
 favors. Now what do you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Peg," said Ida, with a strong effort to 
 conceal her repugnance. 
 
 " That's well. Now the first thing is, to stay here 
 for the present." 
 
 "Yes -aunt" 
 
 " The second is, you're not to tell anybody that 
 you came from New York. That is very important 
 You understand that, do you ? " 
 
172 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 The child replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " The next is, that you're to pay your board bj 
 doing whatever I tell you." 
 
 "If it isn't wicked." 
 
 " Do you suppose I would ask you to do anything 
 wicked?" demanded Peg, frowning. 
 
 " You said you wasn't good," mildly suggested Ida. 
 
 " I'm good enough to take care of you. Well, 
 what do you say to that? Answer me." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "There's another thing. You aint to try to run 
 away." 
 
 Ida hung down her head. 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed Peg. "So you've been think- 
 ing of it, have you ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Ida, boldly, after a moment's 
 hesitation. " I did think I should if I got a good 
 chance." 
 
 " Humph ! " said the woman, " I see we must un- 
 derstand one another. Unless you promise this, back 
 you go into the dark closet, and I shall keep you 
 there all the time." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 173 
 
 Ida shuddered at this fearful threat terrible to a 
 child of but eight years. 
 
 " Do you promise? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ida, faintly. 
 
 "For fear you might be tempted to break your 
 promise, I have something to show you." 
 
 Mrs. Hardwick went to the closet, and took down 
 a large pistol. 
 
 " There," she said, " do you see that?" 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Peg." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " It is a pistol, I believe." 
 
 " Do you know what it is for?" 
 
 " To shoot people with," answered the child, fixing 
 her eyes upon the weapon, as if impelled by a species 
 of fascination. 
 
 "Yes," said the nurse, "I see you understand. 
 Well, now, do you know what I would do if you 
 Bhould tell anybody where you came from, or attempt 
 to run away ? Can you guess, now ? " 
 
 "Would you shoot me?" asked Ida, terror- 
 stricken. 
 
 " Yes, I would," said Peg, with fierce emphasis. 
 
174 JACE?S WARD; OR, 
 
 " That's just what I'd do. And what's more," she 
 added, " even if you got away, and got back to your 
 family in New York, I would follow you, and shoot 
 you dead in the street." 
 
 " You wouldn't be so wicked ! " exclaimed Ida, 
 appalled. 
 
 " Wouldn't I, though?" repeated Peg, signifi- 
 cantly. " If you don't believe I would, just try it. 
 Do you think you would like to try it?" she asked 
 fiercely. 
 
 " No," answered Ida with a shudder. 
 
 " Well, that's the most sensible thing you've said 
 yet. Now that you are a little more reasonable, I'll 
 tell you what I am going to do with you." 
 
 Ida looked eagerly up into her face. 
 
 " I am going to keep you with me for a year. I 
 want the services of a little girl for that time. If 
 you serve me faithfully, I will then send you back to 
 your friends in New York." 
 
 " Will you?" asked Ida, hopefully. 
 
 " Yes, but you must mind and do what I tell you." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Ida, joyfully. 
 
 This was so much better than she had been led to- 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 175 
 
 fear, that the prospect of returning home at all, even 
 though she had to wait a year, encouraged her. 
 
 "What do you want me to do?" she asked, anx- 
 ious to conciliate Peg. 
 
 4 'You may take the broom you will find it just 
 behind the door and sweep the room." 
 
 4 'Yes, Aunt Peg." 
 
 " And then you may wash the dishes, or rather, 
 you may wash the dishes first." 
 
 4 'Yes, Aunt Peg." 
 
 44 And after that, I will find something else for you 
 to do." 
 
 Mrs. Hardwick threw herself into a rocking-chair, 
 and watched with grim satisfaction the little hand- 
 maiden, as she moved quickly about, and performed 
 the task which had been set her. 
 
 44 1 took the right course with her," she said to 
 herself. 44 She won't any more dare to run away 
 than to chop her hands off. She thinks Til shoot 
 her." 
 
 And the unprincipled woman chuckled to herself. 
 
 Ida heard her indistinctly, and asked, timidly, 
 44 Did you speak, Aunt Peg?" 
 
176 JActfs WARD; OR, 
 
 11 No, I didn't ; just attend to your work and don't 
 mind me. Did your mother make you work? " 
 
 " No ; I went to school." 
 
 " Time you learned. I'll make a smart woman of 
 you." 
 
 The next morning Ida was asked if she would like 
 to go out into the street. 
 
 This was a welcome proposition, as the sun was 
 shining brightly, and there was little to please a 
 child's fancy in Peg's shabby apartment. 
 
 " I am going to let you do a little shopping," said 
 Peg. " There are various things we want. Go and 
 get your hat." 
 
 " It's in the closet," said Ida. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I put it there. That was before I 
 could trust you." 
 
 She went to the closet and returned with the 
 child's hat and shawl. As soon as the two were 
 ready they emerged into the street. Ida was glad 
 to be in the open air once more. 
 
 "This is a little better than being shut up in the 
 closet, isn't it?" asked her companion. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ever so much." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 177 
 
 " You see you'll have a very good time of it, if 
 you do as I bid you. I don't want to do you any 
 harm. I want you to be happy." 
 
 So they walked along together, until Peg, sud- 
 denly pausing, laid her hand on Ida's arm, and 
 pointing to a shop near by, said to her, "Do you 
 see that shop ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Ida. 
 
 " Well, that is a baker's shop. Now I'll tell you 
 what to do. I want you to go in and ask for a 
 couple of rolls. They come to three cents apiece. 
 Here's some money to pay for them. It is a ne .v 
 dollar, as you see. You will give this to the man 
 that stands behind the counter, and he will give you 
 back ninety-four cents. Do you understand ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Ida, nodding her head. " I think I 
 do." 
 
 "And if the man asks if you have anything 
 smaller, you will say no." 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Peg." 
 
 "I will stay just outside. I want you to go in 
 alone, so you will learn to manage without me." 
 12 
 
178 JAGS' s WARD; oa, 
 
 Ida entered the shop. The baker, a pleasant- 
 looking man, stood behind the counter. 
 
 " Well, my dear, what is it?" he asked. 
 
 " I should like a couple of rolls." 
 
 u For your mother, I suppose?" said the baker, 
 sociably. 
 
 "No," answered Ida, "for the woman I board 
 with." 
 
 "Ha! a dollar bill, and a new one too," said 
 the baker, as Ida tendered it in payment. " I shall 
 have to save that for my little girl." 
 
 Ida left the shop with the two rolls and the silver 
 change. 
 
 "Did he say anything about the money?" asked 
 Peg, abruptly. 
 
 " He said he should save it for his little girl." 
 
 " Good ! " said the woman, approvingly. " You've 
 done well." 
 
 Ida could not help wondering what the baker's 
 disposal of the dollar had to do with her doing well ; 
 but she was soon thinking of other things. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BAD MONEY. 
 
 THE baker introduced to the reader's notice in the 
 foregoing chapter was named Harding. Singularly, 
 Abel Harding, for that was his name, was a brother 
 of Timothy Harding, the cooper. 
 
 In many respects he resembled his brother. He 
 was an excellent man, exemplary in all the relations 
 of life, and had a good heart. He was in very com- 
 fortable circumstances, having accumulated a little 
 property by diligent attention to his business. Like 
 his brother, Abel Harding had married, and had one 
 child, now about the size of Ida, that is, eight years 
 old. She had received the name of Ellen. 
 
 When the baker closed his shop for the night, he 
 did not forget the new dollar, which he had received, 
 or the disposal he told Ida he would make of it. 
 
 He folded it carefully, and slipped it into Ms vest 
 pocket. 
 
180 JACK'S WARD; <XB, 
 
 Ehen ran to meet her father as he entered the 
 house. 
 
 " What do you think I have brought you, Ellen? " 
 he said, with a smile. 
 
 " Do tell me quick," said the child, eagerly. 
 
 " What if I should tell you it was a new dollar? " 
 
 "Oh, papa, thank you!" and Ellen ran to show 
 it to her mother. 
 
 " Yes," said the baker, " I received it from a little 
 girl about the size of Ellen, and I suppose it was that 
 that gave me the idea of bringing it home to her." 
 
 "Was she a pretty little girl?" asked Ellen, 
 interested. 
 
 " Yes, she was very attractive. I could not help 
 feeling interested in her. I hope she will come 
 again." 
 
 This was all that passed concerning Ida at that 
 time. The thought of her would probably have 
 passed from the baker's mind, if it had not been re- 
 called by circumstances. 
 
 Ellen, like most girls of her age, when in pos- 
 session of money, could not be easy until she had 
 spent it. Her mother advised her to lay it away, or 
 
THE BOJ GUARDIAN. 181 
 
 perhaps deposit it in some savings-bank ; but Ellen 
 preferred present gratification. 
 
 Accordingly, one afternoon, when walking out with 
 her mother, she persuaded her to go into a toy-shop, 
 and price a doll which she saw in the window. The 
 price was seventy-five cents. Ellen concluded to buy 
 it, and her mother tendered the dollar in pay- 
 ment. 
 
 The shopman took it in his hand, glanced at it 
 carelessly at first, then scrutinized it with increased 
 attention. 
 
 "What is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Harding. 
 " It is good, isn't it?" 
 
 "That is what I am doubtful of," was the reply. 
 
 "It is new." 
 
 " And that is against it. If it were old, it would 
 be more likely to be genuine." 
 
 "But you wouldn't condemn a bill because it is 
 new?" 
 
 "Certainly not; but the fact is, there have been 
 lately many cases where counterfeit bills have been 
 passed, and I suspect this is one of them. However, 
 I can soon ascertain." 
 
182 JACK'S WARD^ OB, 
 
 " I wish you would," said the baker's wife. " My 
 husband took it at his shop, and will be likely to 
 take more unless he is put on his guard." 
 
 The shopman sent it to the bank where it was pro- 
 nounced counterfeit. 
 
 " It is as I thought," he said, " not good." 
 
 "Won't you take it?" asked Ellen, disappointed. 
 
 " I am afraid not." 
 
 " Then, I don't see, Ellen," said her mother, " but 
 you will have to give up your purchase for to-day. 
 We must tell your father of this." 
 
 Mr. Harding was much surprised at his wife's 
 story. 
 
 "Really," he said. "I had no suspicion of this. 
 Can it be possible that such a young and beautiful 
 child could be guilty of such an offence ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not," answered his wife. " She may be 
 as innocent in the matter as Ellen or myself." 
 
 "I hope so," said the baker ; " it would be a pity 
 that so young a child should be given to wickedness 
 However, I shall find out before long." 
 
 "How?" 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 183 
 
 " She will undoubtedly come again sometime, and 
 if she then offers me another, I shall know what to 
 think." 
 
 The baker watched daily for the coming of Ida. 
 He waited some days in vain. It was not Peg's 
 policy to send the child too often to the same place, 
 as that would increase the chances of detection. 
 
 One day, however, Ida entered the shop as before. 
 
 " Good-morning," said the baker, "what will 
 you have to-day?" 
 
 " You may give me a sheet of gingerbread, sir." 
 
 The baker placed it in her hand. 
 
 "How much will it be?" 
 
 " Twelve cents." 
 
 Ida offered him another new bill. 
 
 As if to make change, he stepped from behind the 
 counter and managed to place himself between Ida 
 and the door. 
 
 " What is your name, my child? " he asked. 
 
 "Ida, sir." 
 
 "Ida? A very pretty name. But what is your 
 other name ? " 
 
 Ida hesitated a moment, because Peg had for- 
 
184 JACE?S WARD; os, 
 
 bidden her to use the name of Harding, and had 
 told her, if ever the inquiry were made, she must 
 answer Hard wick. 
 
 She answered reluctantly, " My name is Ida 
 Hardwick." 
 
 The baker observed her hesitation, and this in- 
 creased his suspicion. 
 
 4 ' Hardwick ! " he repeated musingly, endeavoring 
 to draw from the child as much information as pos- 
 sible before allowing her to perceive that he sus- 
 pected her. " And where do you live ? " 
 
 Ida was a child of spirit, and did not understand 
 why she should be questioned so closely. 
 
 She said, with some impatience, "I am in a 
 hurry, sir, and would like to have you hand me the 
 change as soon as you can." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it," said the baker, his 
 manner suddenly changing, u but you cannot go 
 just yet." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Ida. 
 
 " Because you have been trying to deceive me," 
 said the baker, gravely. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 185 
 
 "I trying to deceive you!" exclaimed Ida, with 
 an air of genuine surprise. 
 
 "Really," thought Mr. Harding, "she does it 
 well ; but no doubt she is trained to it. It is per- 
 fectly shocking, such artful depravity in a child." 
 
 "Don't you remember buying something here a 
 week ago?" he asked, in as stern a tone as his good- 
 nature would allow him to employ. 
 
 "Yes," answered Ida, promptly; "I bought two 
 rolls, at three cents apiece." 
 
 " And what did you offer me in payment?" 
 
 " I handed you a dollar bill." 
 
 " Like this? " asked the baker, holding up the one 
 she had just offered him. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And do you mean to say," demanded the baker, 
 sternly, " that you didn't know it was bad when you 
 offered it to me?" 
 
 "Bad!" gasped Ida. 
 
 " Yes, spurious. Not as good as blank paper 
 would be." 
 
 "And is this like it?" 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
186 JACK'S WARD; 05, 
 
 "Indeed, sir, I didn't know anything about it," 
 said Ida, earnestly ; " I hope you'll believe me when 
 I say that I thought it was good." 
 
 "I don't know what to think," said the baker, 
 perplexed. ' ' Who gave you the money ? M 
 
 " The woman I board with." 
 
 " Have you any other money? " 
 
 " That is all." 
 
 "Of course I can't give you the gingerbread. 
 Some men, in my place, would deliver you up to the 
 police. But I will let you go, if you will make me 
 one promise." 
 
 " Oh, I will promise anything, sir," said Ida, who 
 had a great dread of the police. "Don't let the 
 police take me." 
 
 " I couldn't," thought the baker. " It would be a 
 shame to arrest such a nice-looking little girl." 
 
 He said aloud, "You have given me a bad dol- 
 lar. Will you promise to bring me a good one 
 to-morrow?" 
 
 Ida made the required promise, and was allowed 
 to go. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DOUBTS AND FEARS. 
 
 "WELL, what kept you so long?" asked Peg, 
 impatiently, as Ida rejoined her at the corner of the 
 street, where she had been waiting for her. " I 
 thought you were going to stay all the forenoon. 
 And where's your gingerbread ? " 
 
 "He wouldn't let me have it," answered Ida. 
 
 " And why wouldn't he let you have it?" said Peg 
 imitating her tone. 
 
 " Because he said the money wasn't good." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! It's good enough," said 
 Peg, hastily. * 1 However, it's no matter. We'll go 
 somewhere else." 
 
 "But he said the money I gave him last week 
 wasn't good, and I promised to bring him another to- 
 morrow, or he wouldn't have let me go." 
 
 " Well, where are you going to get your dollar to 
 oarry him?" asked Peg, coolly. 
 
188 jActfs WARD; on, 
 
 "Why, won't you give it to me?" said the child, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 "Catch me at such nonsense!" said Mrs. Hard- 
 wick, contemptuously. "I aint quite a fool. But 
 here we are at another shop. Go in and see if you 
 can do any better there. Here's the money." 
 
 " Why, it's the same piece." 
 
 "What if it is?" 
 
 " I don't want to pass bad money." 
 
 " Tut, what hurt will it do?" 
 
 " It's the same as stealing." 
 
 "The man won't lose anything. He'll pass it off 
 again." 
 
 " Somebody'll have to lose it by and by," said 
 Ida, whose clear perception saw through the woman's 
 sophistry. 
 
 " So you've taken up preaching, have you?" said 
 Peg, sneeringly. " Maybe you know better than I 
 what is proper to do. It won't do for you to be so 
 mighty particular, and so you'll find out, if you stay 
 with me long." 
 
 "Where did you take the dollar?" asked Ida. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 189 
 
 with a sudden thought, " and how is it you have so 
 many of them ? " 
 
 " None of your business," answered her com- 
 panion, roughly. " You mustn't pry into the affairs 
 of other people." 
 
 "Are you going to do as I told you?" she con- 
 tinued, menacingly. 
 
 " I can't," answered Ida, pale but resolute. 
 
 "You can't!" repeated Peg, furiously. "Didn't 
 you promise to do whatever I told you ? " 
 
 " Except what was wicked," interposed Ida. 
 
 "And what business have you to decide what is 
 wicked ? Come home with me." 
 
 Peg seized the child's hand, and walked on in sul- 
 len silence, occasionally turning to scowl upon Ida, 
 who had been strong enough, in her determination to 
 do right, to resist successfully the will of the woman 
 whom she had so much reason to dread. 
 
 Arrived at home, Peg walked Ida into the room by 
 the shoulder. 
 
 Dick was lounging in a chair, with the inevitable 
 pipe in his mouth. 
 
190 JACS WARD; ou, 
 
 "Hilloa!" said he, lazily, observing his wife'a 
 frowning face. "What's the gal been doin', hey? " 
 
 "What's she been doing?" repeated Peg. "I 
 should like to know what she hasn't been doing. 
 She's refused to go in and buy gingerbread of the 
 baker, as I told her to do." 
 
 " Look here, little gal," said Dick, in a moralizing 
 vein, " isn't this rayther undootiful conduct on your 
 part? Aint it a piece of ingratitude, when Peg and I 
 go to the trouble of earning the money to pay for 
 gingerbread for you to eat, that you aint even willin* 
 to go in and buy it ? What have you got to say to 
 that, hey?" 
 
 " I would just as lieve go in," said Ida, " if Peg 
 would give me good money to pay for it." 
 
 " That don't make any difference," said the admir- 
 able moralist. " It's your dooty to do just as she tells 
 you, and you'll do right. She'll take the risk." 
 
 " I can't," said the child. 
 
 " You hear her ! " said Peg. 
 
 " Very improper conduct ! " said Dick, shaking his 
 head in grave reproval. " Little gal, I'm ashamed of 
 you. Put her in the closet, Peg." 
 
THE BOY GVARDIAX. 191 
 
 > 
 
 " Come along," said Peg, harshly. " Fll show you 
 how I deal with those that don't obey me." 
 
 So Ida was incarcerated once more in the dark 
 closet. Yet in the midst of her desolation, child as 
 she was, she was sustained and comforted by the 
 thought that she was suffering for doing right. 
 
 When Ida failed to return on the appointed day, 
 the Hardings, though disappointed, did not think it 
 strange. 
 
 "If I were her mother," said the cooper's wife, 
 " and had been parted from her for so long, I should 
 want to keep her as long as I could. Dear heart ! 
 how pretty she is and how proud her mother must 
 be of her!" 
 
 " It's all a delusion," said Rachel, shaking her 
 head, solemnly. " It's all a delusion. I don't believe 
 she's got a mother at all. That Mrs. Hardwick is an 
 impostor. I know it, and told you so at the time, 
 but you wouldn't believe me. I never expect to set 
 eyes on Ida again in this world." 
 
 " I do," said Jack, confidently. 
 
 "There's many a hope that's doomed to disap- 
 pointment," said his aunt. 
 
192 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 " So there is," said Jack, unexpectedly chiming in 
 with her. " I was hoping mother would have apple- 
 pudding to-day for dinner, and she didn't." 
 
 "It's no laughing matter," said Rachel, shaking 
 her head, ominously. 
 
 The next day passed, and still no tidings of Jack's 
 ward. Her young guardian, though not as gloomy 
 as Aunt Rachel, looked unusually serious, and evi- 
 dently missed her more than he was willing to ac- 
 knowledge. 
 
 There was a cloud of anxiety even upon the cooper's 
 usually placid face, and he was more silent than usual 
 at the evening meal. He began to realize how Ida 
 had entwined herself in his affections. 
 
 At night, after Jack and his aunt had retired, he 
 said anxiously, " What do you think is the cause of 
 Ida's prolonged absence, Martha?" 
 
 " I can't tell/' said his wife, seriously. " It seems 
 to me, if her mother wanted to keep her longer than 
 the time she at first proposed, it would be no more 
 than right that she should drop us a line. She must 
 know that we would feel anxious." 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 193 
 
 " Perhaps she is so taken up with Ida that she 
 can think of no one else." 
 
 " It may be so, Timothy ; but if we neither see Ida 
 to-morrow, nor hear from her, I shall be seriously 
 troubled." 
 
 " Suppose she should never come back," suggested 
 the cooper, very soberly. 
 
 " Oh, husband, don't hint at such a thing," said 
 his wife, looking distressed. 
 
 "We must contemplate it as a possibility," said 
 Timothy, gravely, " though not, as I hope, as a 
 probability. Ida's mother* has an undoubted right to 
 her ; a better right than any we can urge." 
 
 "Then it would be better if she had never been 
 placed in our charge," said Martha, tearfully, " for 
 we should not have had the pain of parting with 
 her." 
 
 "Not 'so, Martha," her husband said, seriously. 
 " We ought to be grateful for God's blessings, even 
 if he suffers us to retain them but a short time. 
 And Ida has been a blessing to us all, I am sure. 
 How many hours have been made happy by her 
 
 childish prattle! How our hearts have been filled 
 13 
 
194 JACtfs WARD; O5, 
 
 with cheerful happiness and affection when we have 
 gazed upon her ! The memory of that can't be 
 taken from us, even if she is, Martha. There's 
 some lines I came across in the paper to-night that 
 express just what I've been sayin'. Let me find 
 them." 
 
 The cooper put on his spectacles, and hunted 
 slowly down the columns of the daily paper till he 
 came to these beautiful lines of Tennyson, which he 
 read aloud : 
 
 " ' I hold it true, whate'er befall ; 
 I feel it -vrhen I sorrow most ; 
 Tis better to have loved and lost, 
 Then never to have loved at all.' * 
 
 " There, wife," he said, as he laid down the paper ; 
 " I don't know who writ them lines, but I'm sure it's 
 some one that's met with a great sorrow and con- 
 quered it." 
 
 " They are beautiful," said his wife, after a pause j 
 " and I dare say you're right, Timothy ; but I hope 
 we mayn't have to learn the truth of them by 
 experience. After all, it isn't certain but that Ida 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 195 
 
 will come back. We are troubling ourselves too 
 soon." 
 
 "At any rate," said her husband, "there is no 
 doubt that it is our duty to take every means that 
 we can to recover Ida. Of course, if her mother 
 insists upon keepin' her, we can't say anything ; but 
 we ought to be sure of that before we yield her up." 
 
 1 l What do you mean, Timothy ? " asked Martha, 
 fixing her eyes anxiously upon her husband's face. 
 
 " I don't know as I ought to mention it," said the 
 cooper. " Very likely there isn't anything in it, and 
 
 it would only make you feel more anxious." 
 
 v 
 " You have already aroused my anxiety. I should 
 
 feel better if you would speak out." 
 
 "Then I will," said the cooper. "I have some- 
 times been tempted," he continued, lowering his 
 voice, " to doubt whether Ida's mother really sent for 
 her." 
 
 "How do you account for the letter, then?" 
 queried Mrs. Harding, looking less surprised than 
 he expected she would. 
 
 " I have thought mind, it is only a guess on my 
 
196 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 part that Mrs. Hardwick may have got somebody 
 to write it for her." 
 
 44 It is very singular," murmured Martha, in a 
 ione of abstraction. 
 
 44 What is singular?" 
 
 " Why, the very same thought has occurred to me. 
 Somehow, I can't help feeling a little distrustful of 
 Mrs. Hardwick, though perhaps unjustly. But there 
 is one thing I can't understand. What object can 
 she have in getting possession of the child?" 
 
 44 That I can't conjecture ; but I have come to one 
 determination." 
 
 44 What is that?" 
 
 44 Unless we learn something of Ida within a week 
 from the time she left here, I shall go on to Phila- 
 delphia, or else send Jack, and endeavor to get track 
 of her." 
 
 44 1 am glad to hear you say so, Timothy. I feel 
 as if something ought to be done." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 AUNT RACHEL'S MISHAPS. 
 
 Tine week which had been assigned by the cooper 
 slipped away, and still no tidings of Ida. The 
 house seemed lonely without her. Not until then 
 did they understand how largely she had entered into 
 their life and thoughts. But worse even than the 
 sense of loss was the uncertainty as to her fate. 
 
 When the week was at an end the cooper said, 
 "It is time that we took some steps about finding 
 Ida. I would like to go to Philadelphia myself, to 
 make inquiries about her, but I am just now engaged 
 upon a job which I cannot very well leave, and so I 
 have concluded to send Jack." 
 
 " When shall I start?" exclaimed Jack, jumping 
 up eagerly. 
 
 " To-morrow morning," answered his father ; " and 
 you must take clean clothes enough with you to last 
 you several days, in case it should be necessary." 
 
198 JACX?S WARD; o, 
 
 "What good do you think it will do, Timothy," 
 interposed Rachel, " to send a mere boy like Jack 
 to Philadelphia?" 
 
 " A mere boy ! " repeated her nephew, inlignantly. 
 
 "A boy hardly sixteen years old," continued 
 Rachel. " Why, he'll need somebody to take care of 
 him. Most likely you'll have to go after him." 
 
 4 'What's the use of provoking a fellow so, Aunt 
 Rachel ? " said Jack. ' ' You know I'm 'most eighteen. 
 Hardly sixteen! Why, I might as well say you're 
 hardly forty, when we all know you're fifty." 
 
 4 'Fifty!" ejaculated the scandalized spinster. 
 " It's a base slander. I'm only thirty-seven." 
 
 " Maybe I'm mistaken," said Jack, carelessly. " 1 
 didn't know exactly how old you were ; I only judged 
 from your looks." 
 
 " Judge not, that ye be not judged ! " said Rachel, 
 who was by no means appeased by this explanation 
 " The world is full of calumny and misrepresentation. 
 I've no doubt you would like to shorten my days 
 upon the earth, but it isn't necessary. I sha'n't live 
 long to trouble you. I feel that ere the summer of 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 199 
 
 life is over, I shall be gathered into the garner of the 
 Great Destroyer." 
 
 At this point, Rachel applied a segment of a 
 pocket-handkerchief to her eyes ; but, unfortunately, 
 owing to circumstances, the effect instead of being 
 pathetic, as she intended it to be, was simply ludic- 
 rous. 
 
 This is the explanation. 
 
 It so happened that a short time previous, the ink- 
 stand had been partially spilled upon the table, through 
 Jack's carelessness, as I am forced to admit, and this 
 handkerchief had been used to sop it up. It had 
 been placed inadvertently upon the window-seat, 
 where it had remained until Rachel, who was eating 
 beside the window, called it into requisition. The 
 ink upon it was by no means dry. The consequence 
 was, that, when Rachel removed it from her eyes, 
 her face was discovered to be covered with ink in 
 streaks mingling with the tears that were falling, for 
 Rachel always had a plentiful supply of tears at com- 
 mand. 
 
 The first intimation the luckless spinster had of her 
 mishap, was conveyed in a stentorian laugh from 
 
200 JActfs WARD; OR, 
 
 Jack, whose organ of mirthfulness, marked very 
 large by the phrenologists, could not withstand such 
 a provocation to laughter. 
 
 He looked intently at the dark traces of sorrow on 
 his aunt's face of which she was yet unconscious 
 and doubling up, went off into a perfect paroxysm of 
 laughter. 
 
 Aunt Rachel looked equally amazed and indignant. 
 
 " Jack ! " said his mother, reprovingly, for she had 
 not observed the cause of his amusement, " it's im- 
 proper for you to laugh at your aunt in such a rude 
 manner." 
 
 " Oh, I can't help it, mother. It's too rich. Just 
 look at her," and Jack went off into another parox 
 ysm. 
 
 Thus invited, Mrs. Harding did look, and the rue- 
 ful expression of Rachel, set off by the inky stains, 
 was so irresistibly comical, that, after a hard strug- 
 gle, she too gave way, and followed Jack's example. 
 
 Astonished and indignant at this unexpected be- 
 havior of her sister-in-law, Rachel burst into a fresh 
 fit of weeping, and again had recourse to the hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 201 
 
 "This is too much!" she sobbed. "I've stayed 
 here long enough, if even my sister-in-law, as well as 
 my own nephew, from whom I expect nothing better, 
 makes me her laughing-stock. Brother Timothy, I can 
 no longer remain in your dwelling to be laughed at ; 
 I will go to the poor-house and end my miserable ex- 
 istence as a common pauper. If I only receive 
 Christian burial when I leave the world, it will be all 
 I hope or expect from m} 7 relatives, who will be glad 
 enough to get rid of me." 
 
 Rachel rocked to and fro in her sorrow, and finally 
 removed the handkerchief once more. 
 
 The second application of the handkerchief had so 
 increased the effect, that Jack found it impossible to 
 check his laughter, while the cooper, whose attention 
 was now for the first time drawn to his sister's face, 
 burst out in a similar manner. 
 
 This more amazed Rachel than even Martha's mer- 
 riment. 
 
 "Even you, Timothy, join in ridiculing your 
 sister ! " she exclaimed in an " Et tu Brute" tone. 
 
 " We don't mean to ridicule you, Rachel," gasped 
 
202 SActfs WARD; oj?, 
 
 her sister-in-law, with difficulty, " but we can't help 
 laughing." 
 
 " At the prospect of my deach ! " uttered Rachel in 
 a tragic tone. " Well, I'm a poor, forlorn creetur, I 
 know ; I haven't got a friend in the world. Even my 
 nearest relations make sport of me, and when I speak 
 of dying, they shout their joy to my face." 
 
 " Yes," gasped Jack, nearly choking, " that's it 
 exactly. It isn't your death we're laughing at, but 
 your face." 
 
 " My face!" exclaimed the insulted spinster. 
 " One would think I was a fright by the way you 
 laugh at it." 
 
 " So you are!" said Jack, with a fresh burst of 
 laughter. 
 
 4 'To be called a fright to my face!" shrieked 
 Rachel, "by my own nephew! This is too much. 
 Timothy, I leave your house forever." 
 
 The excited maiden seized her hood, which was 
 hanging from a nail, and, hardly knowing what she 
 did, was about to leave the house with no other pro- 
 tection, when she was arrested in her progress to- 
 wards the door by the cooper, who stifled his laughter 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 
 
 sufficiently to say, " Before you go, Rachel, just look 
 in the glass." 
 
 Mechanically his sister did look, and her horrified 
 eyes rested upon a face streaked with inky spots and 
 lines seaming it in every direction. 
 
 In her first confusion Rachel did not comprehend 
 the nature of her mishap, but hastily jumped to the 
 conclusion that she had been suddenly stricken by 
 some terrible disease like the plague, whose ravages 
 in London she had read of with the interest which one 
 of her melancholy temperament might be expected to 
 find in it. 
 
 Accordingly she began to wring her hands in an 
 excess of terror, and exclaimed in tones of piercing 
 anguish, 
 
 " It is the fatal plague-spot ! I feel it ; I know it ! 
 I am marked for the tomb. The sands of my life are 
 fast running out." 
 
 This convulsed Jack afresh with merriment, so that 
 an observer might, not without reason, have imagined 
 him to be in imminent danger of suffocation. 
 
 " You'll kill me, Aunt Rachel ! I know you will," 
 he gasped. 
 
204 JACS WARD; oj?, 
 
 " You may order my coffin, Timothy," said Rachel 
 in a sepulchral voice ; I sha'n't live twenty-four hours. 
 I've felt it coming on for a week past. I forgive you 
 for all your ill-treatment. I should like to have some 
 one go for the doctor, though I know I'm past help. 
 I will go up to my chamber." 
 
 "I think," said the cooper, trying to look sober, 
 " you will find the cold-water treatment efficacious in 
 removing the plague-spots, as you call them." 
 
 Rachel turned towards him with a puzzled look. 
 Then, as her eyes rested for the first time upon the 
 handkerchief she had used, its appearance at once 
 suggested a clew by which she was enabled to account 
 for her own. 
 
 Somewhat ashamed of the emotion which she had 
 betrayed, as well as the ridiculous figure which she 
 had cut, she left the room abruptly, and did not 
 make her appearance again till the next morning. 
 
 After this little episode, the conversation turned 
 upon Jack's approaching journey. 
 
 "I don't know," said his mother, " but Rachel is 
 right. Perhaps Jack isn't old enough, and hasn't had 
 sufficient experience to undertake such a mission." 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 205 
 
 "Now, mother," expostulated Jack, "you aint 
 going to side against me, are you?" 
 
 " There is no better plan," said his father, quietly, 
 " and I have sufficient confidence in Jack's shrewd- 
 ness and intelligence to believe he may be trusted in 
 this business." 
 
 Jack looked gratified at this tribute to his powers 
 and capacity, and determined to show that he was 
 deserving of his father's favorable opinion. 
 
 The preliminaries were settled, and it was agreed 
 that he should set out early the next morning. He 
 went to bed with the brighest anticipations, and with 
 the resolute determination to find Ida if she were 
 anywhere in Philadelphia, 
 
206 JACK'S WARD; 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE FLOWER GIRL. 
 
 HENRY BOWEN was a young artist of moderate tal- 
 ent, who had abandoned the farm on which he had 
 labored as a boy, for the sake of pursuing his favorite 
 profession. He was not competent to achieve the 
 highest success. The foremost rank in his profession 
 was not for him. But he had good taste, a correct 
 oye, and a skilful hand, and his productions were 
 pleasing and popular. A few months before his 
 introduction to the reader's notice, he had formed a 
 connection with a publisher of prints and engravings, 
 who had thrown considerable work in his way. 
 
 "Have you any new commission to-day ?" in- 
 quired the young artist, on the day before Ida's dis- 
 covery that she had been employed to pass off 
 spurious coin. 
 
 "Yes," said the publisher, "I have thought of 
 something which I have thought may prove attractive. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 207 
 
 Just at present, pictures of children in different char- 
 acters seem to be popular. I should like to have you 
 supply me with a sketch of a flower-girl, with, say, a 
 basket of flowers in her hand. The attitude and 
 incidentals I leave to your taste. The face must, of 
 course, be as beautiful and expressive as you can 
 make it. Do you comprehend my idea ? " 
 
 " I believe I do," answered the artist. " Give me- 
 sufficient time, and I hope to satisfy you." 
 
 The young artist went home, and at once set to- 
 work upon the task he had undertaken. He had con- 
 ceived that it would be an easy one, but found him- 
 self mistaken. Whether because his fancy was not 
 sufficiently lively, or his mind was not in tune, he was 
 unable to produce the effect he desired. The faces 
 which he successively outlined were all stiff, and 
 though perhaps sufficiently beautiful in feature, lacked 
 the great charm of being expressive and life-like. 
 
 "What is the matter with me?" he exclaimed, 
 impatiently, throwing down his pencil. " Is it im- 
 possible for me to succeed? Well, I will be patient 
 and make one trial more." 
 
208 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 He made another trial ; but that proved as unsatis- 
 factory as those preceding. 
 
 "It's clear ,*' he decided, "that I am not in the 
 vein. I will go out and take a walk, and perhaps 
 while I am in the street something may strike me." 
 
 He accordingly donned his coat and hat, and, de- 
 scending, emerged into the great thoroughfare, where 
 he was soon lost in the throng. It was only natural 
 that, as he walked, with his task uppermost in his 
 thoughts, he should scrutinize carefully the faces of 
 such young girls as he met. 
 
 " Perhaps," it occurred to him, " I may set a hint 
 from some face I see. That will be better than to de- 
 pend upon an exhausted fancy. Nothing, after all, is 
 equal to the master-pieces of nature." 
 
 But the young artist was not easily suited. 
 
 "It is strange," he mused, "how few there are, 
 even in the freshness of childhood, that can be called 
 models of beauty. That child, for example, has 
 beautiful eyes, but a badly cut mouth. Here is one 
 that would be pretty, if the face were rounded out ; 
 and here is a child Heaven help it ! that was de- 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 209 
 
 signed to be beautiful, but want and unfavorable cir- 
 cumstances have pinched and cramped it." 
 
 It was at this point in the artist's soliloquy, that, 
 in turning the corner of a street, he came upon Peg 
 and Ida. 
 
 The artist looked earnestly at the child's face, and 
 his own lighted up with sudden pleasure, as one who 
 stumbles upon success just as he had begun to 
 despair of it. 
 
 " The very face I have been looking for ! " he ex- 
 claimed to himself. "My flower-girl is found at 
 last." 
 
 He turned round, and followed Ida and her com- 
 panion. Both stopped at a shop-window to examine 
 some articles which were on exhibition there. This 
 afforded a fresh opportunity to examine Ida's face. 
 
 "It is precisely the face I want," he murmured. 
 "Nothing could be more appropriate or charming. 
 With that face the success of the picture is assured 
 in advance. Now comes up the important question, 
 whether this woman, whom I take to be the child's 
 attendant, will permit me to copy her face." 
 
 The artist's inference that Peg was Ida's attendant 
 14 
 
210 JACK'S WARD; o*, 
 
 was natural, since the child was dressed in a style 
 quite superior to her companion. Peg thought that 
 this would enable her, with less risk and suspicion, 
 to pass spurious coin. 
 
 The young man followed the strangely assorted 
 pair to the apartments which Peg occupied. From 
 the conversation which he overheard he learned that 
 he had been mistaken in his supposition as to the 
 relation between the two, and that, singular as it 
 seemed, Peg had the guardianship of the child. 
 This made his course clearer. He mounted the 
 stairs, and knocked at the door. 
 
 " What do you want?" demanded a sharp voice 
 from within. 
 
 " I should like to see you just a moment," was the 
 reply. 
 
 Peg opened the door partially, and regarded the 
 young man suspiciously. 
 
 " I don't know you," she said, shortly. " I never 
 saw you before." 
 
 " I presume not," said the young man, cour- 
 teously. "We have never met, I think. I am an 
 artist. I hope you will pardon my present intrusion." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 211 
 
 " There is no use in your coming here," said Peg, 
 abruptly, " and you may as well go away. You've 
 come to the wrong place. I don't want to buy any 
 pictures. I've got plenty of better ways to spend my 
 money than to throw it away on such trash." 
 
 Certainly no one would have thought of doubting 
 Peg's word, for she looked far enough from being a 
 patron of the arts. 
 
 " You have a young girl living with you, about 
 seven or eight years old, have you not?" inquired 
 the artist. 
 
 Peg instantly became suspicious. 
 
 " Who told you that?" she demanded, quickly. 
 
 "No one told me," answered the young man, 
 innocently. " I saw her in the street." 
 
 Peg at once conceived the idea that her visitor 
 was aware of the fact that the child had been lured 
 away from home ; possibly he might be acquainted 
 with the cooper's family, or might be their emissary. 
 It was clear that she must be on her guard. 
 
 " Suppose you did see such a child in the street, 
 what has that to do with me ? " 
 
 " She was walking with you." 
 
212 JACS WARD; ojz, 
 
 "People that are seen walking together don't 
 always live together." 
 
 "But I saw the child entering this house with 
 you." 
 
 " What if you did? " demanded Peg, defiantly. 
 
 " I was about," said the artist, perceiving that he 
 was misapprehended, and desiring to set matters 
 right, "I was about to make a proposition which 
 may prove advantageous to both of us." 
 
 "Eh!" said Peg, catching at the hint. "Tell 
 me what it is, and we may come to terms." 
 
 "I must explain," said Bowen, "that I am an 
 artist. Just now I am employed to sketch a flower- 
 girl. In seeking for a face to sketch from, I have 
 been struck by that of your child." 
 
 "Of Ida?" 
 
 " Yes, if that is her name. I will pay you five 
 dollars if you will allow me to copy her face." 
 
 Peg was fond of money, and thought there could 
 be no harm in making five dollars so easily. The 
 possibility of its proving a means of discovery to 
 her friends never occurred to her. 
 
 "Well," she said, more graciously, "if that's all 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 213 
 
 you want, I don't know as I have any objections. I 
 suppose you can copy her face here as well as any- 
 where." 
 
 " I should prefer to have her come to my studio.'* 
 
 " I shaVt let her come," said Peg, decidedly. 
 
 " Then I will consent to your terms, and come 
 here." 
 
 " Do you want to begin now?" 
 
 " I should like to do so." 
 
 " Come in, then. Here, Ida, I want you." 
 
 " Yes, Peg." 
 
 " This gentleman wants to copy your face." 
 
 Ida looked surprised. 
 
 " I am an artist," said the young man, with a reas- 
 suring smile. "I will endeavor not to try your 
 patience too much, or keep you too long. Do you 
 think you can stand still for half an hour without too 
 much fatigue." 
 
 Ida was easily won by kindness, though she had 
 a spirit which was roused by harshness. She was 
 prepossessed at once in the young man's favor, and 
 readily assented. 
 
 He kept her in pleasant conversation, while, with 
 
214 JACX'S WARD; OB, 
 
 a free, bold hand, he sketched the outlines of her 
 face. 
 
 " I shall want one more sitting," he said. " I will 
 come to-morrow at this time." 
 
 "Stop a minute," said Peg. "I should like the 
 money in advance. How do I know you will come 
 again ? " 
 
 " Certainly, if you desire it," said Henry Bowen, 
 opening his pocket-book. 
 
 "What strange fortune," he thought, "can have 
 brought them two together ? Surely there can be no 
 relation between this sweet child, and that ugly old 
 woman ! " 
 
 The next day he returned and completed his sketch, 
 which was at once placed in the hands of the pub- 
 lisher, eliciting his warm approval. 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 JACK OBTAINS INFORMATION. 
 
 JACK set out with that lightness of heart and keen 
 sense of enjoyment that seem natural to a young man 
 of eighteen on his first journey. Partly by boat, 
 partly by cars, he travelled, till in a few hours he was 
 discharged, with hundreds of others, at the depot in 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 Among the admonitions given to Jack on leaving 
 home, two were prominently in his mind, to beware 
 of imposition, and to be as economical as possible. 
 
 Accordingly he rejected all invitations to ride, and 
 strode on, carpet-bag in hand, though, sooth to say, 
 he had very little idea whether he was steering :n the 
 right direction for his uncle's shop. By dint of dili- 
 gent and persevering inquiry he found it at last, and 
 walking in, announced himself to the worthy baker 
 as his nephew Jack. 
 
 "What, are you Jack?" exclaimed Mr. Abel 
 
216 JACK'S WARD; ox, 
 
 Harding, pausing in his labor. "Well, I never 
 should have known you, that's a fact. Bless me, how 
 you've grown! Why, you're most as big as your 
 father, aint you ? " 
 
 " Only half an inch shorter," answered Jack, com 
 placently. 
 
 " And you're let me see, how old are you?" 
 
 " Eighteen; that is, almost; I shall be in two 
 months." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad to see you, Jack, though I hadn't 
 the least idea of your raining down so unexpectedly. 
 How's your father and mother and Rachel and your 
 adopted sister ? " 
 
 " Father and mother are pretty well," answered 
 Jack, " and so is Aunt Rachel," he continued, smil- 
 ing, "though she aint so cheerful as she might be." 
 
 "Poor Rachel!" said Abel, smiling also. 
 " Everything goes contrary with her. I don't suppose 
 she's wholly to blame for it. Folks differ constitu- 
 tionally. Some are always looking on the bright side 
 of things, and then again there are others can never 
 see but one side, and that's the dark one." 
 
 'You've hit it, uncle," said Jack, laughing. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 217 
 
 44 Aunt Rachel always looks as if she was attending 
 a funeral." 
 
 " So she is," my boy," said Abel, gravely," and a 
 sad funeral it is." 
 
 "I don't understand you, uncle." 
 
 " The funeral of her affections that's what I 
 mean. Perhaps you mayn't know that Rachel was, 
 in early life, engaged to be married to a young man 
 whom she ardently loved. She was a different 
 woman then from what she is now. But her lover 
 deserted her just before the wedding was to have 
 come off, and she's never got over the disappoint- 
 ment. But that isn't what I was going to talk about. 
 You haven't told me about your adopted sister." 
 
 " That's the very thing I've come to Philadelphia 
 about," said Jack, soberly. " Ida has been carried 
 off, and I've come in search of her." 
 
 "Been carried off!" exclaimed his uncle in 
 amazement. "I didn't know such things ever 
 happened in this country. What do you mean?" 
 
 In answer to this question Jack told the story of 
 Mrs. Hardwick's arrival with a letter from Ida's 
 mother, conveying the request that her child might, 
 
218 JACK'S WARD; on, 
 
 under the guidance of the messenger, be allowed to 
 pay her a visit. To this and the subsequent details 
 Abel Harding listened with earnest attention. 
 
 " So you have reason to think the child is in Phil- 
 adelphia?" he said, musingly. 
 
 "Yes," said Jack, "Ida was seen in the cars, 
 coming here, by a boy who knew her in New York." 
 
 " Ida ! " repeated the baker, looking up suddenly. 
 " Was that her name ? " 
 
 "Yes ; you knew her name, didn't you?" 
 
 " I dare say I have known it, but I have heard so 
 little of your family lately that I had forgotten it. 
 It is rather a singular circumstance ? " 
 
 " What is a singular circumstance ? " 
 
 " I will tell you, Jack. It may not amount to 
 anything, however. A few days since a little girl 
 came into my shop to buy a small amount of bread. 
 I was at once favorably impressed with her appear- 
 ance. She was neatly dressed, and had a very 
 honest face. 
 
 " Did she give her name ? " 
 
 '< That I will tell you by and by. Having made 
 the purchase, she handed me in payment a new 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 219 
 
 dollar bill. Til keep that for my little girl,' 
 thought I at once. Accordingly, when I went home 
 at night, I just took the dollar out of the till and 
 gave it to her. Of course she was delighted with it, 
 and, like a child, wanted to spend it at once. So 
 her mother agreed to go out with her the next day. 
 Well, they selected some knick-knack or other, but 
 when they came to pay for it the dollar proved 
 counterfeit." 
 " Counterfeit ! " 
 
 " Yes, bad. Issued by a gang of counterfeiters. 
 When they told me of this, I said to myself, ' Can it 
 be that this little girl knew what she was about 
 when she offered me that ? ' I couldn't think it pos- 
 sible, but decided to wait till she came again." 
 " Did she come again ? " 
 
 "Yes, only day before yesterday. This time she 
 wanted some gingerbread, so she said. As I ex- 
 pected, she offered me in payment another dollar 
 just like the other. Before letting her know that I 
 had discovered the imposition I asked her one or 
 two questions with the idea of finding out as much as 
 
220 JACK'S WARD; oj?, 
 
 possible about her. When I told her the bill was a 
 bad one, she seemed very much surprised. It might 
 have been all acting, but I didn't think so then. I 
 even felt pity for her, and let her go on condition 
 that she would bring me back a good dollar in place 
 of the bad one the next day. I suppose I was a 
 fool for doing so, but she looked so pretty and 
 innocent that I couldn't make up my mind to speak 
 or act harshly to her. But I am afraid that I was 
 deceived, and that she was an artful character after 
 all." 
 
 "Then she didn't come back with the good 
 money?" said Jack. 
 
 " No ; I haven't seen her since, and I hardly think 
 now that she will be likely to come again." 
 
 " What name did she give you? " 
 
 " Haven't I told you? It was the name that made 
 me think of telling you. She called herself Ida 
 Hardwick." 
 
 "Ida Hardwick!" repeated Jack, bounding from 
 his chair, somewhat to his uncle's alarm. 
 
 "Yes, Ida Hardwick. But that hasn't anything 
 to do with your Ida, has it?" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 221 
 
 "Hasn't it, though?" said Jack. "Why, Mrs. 
 Hardwick was the woman who carried her away." 
 
 " Mrs. Hardwick her mother ! " 
 
 " No, not her mother. She was, or at least said 
 she was, the woman who took care of Ida before she 
 was brought to us." 
 
 " Then you think this Ida Hardwick may be your 
 missing sister ? " 
 
 " That's what I don't know yet," said Jack. " If 
 you would only describe her, Uncle Abel, I could 
 tell better." 
 
 "Well," said the baker, thoughtfully, "I should 
 say this little girl was seven or eight years old. 
 
 "Yes," said Jack, nodding; "what color were 
 her eyes?" 
 
 "Blue." 
 
 "So are Ida's." 
 
 "A small mouth, with a very sweet expression, 
 yet with something firm and decided about it." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 4 And I believe her dress was a light one, with a 
 blue ribbon round the waist." 
 
 " Did she wear anything around her neck?" 
 
JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 " A brown scarf, if I remember rightly." 
 
 "That is exactly the way Ida was dressed when 
 she went away with Mrs. Hardwick. I am sure it 
 must be she. But how strange she came into your 
 shop ! " 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested his uncle, u this woman, 
 though representing herself as Ida's nurse, was really 
 her mother. " 
 
 " No, it can't be," said Jack, vehemently. 
 "What, that ugly, disagreeable woman, Ida's 
 mother ! I won't believe it. I should just as soon 
 expect to see strawberries growing on a thorn-bush. 
 There isn't the least resemblance between them." 
 
 " You know I have not seen Mrs. Hardwick, so I 
 cannot judge on that point." 
 
 "No great loss," said Jack. "You wouldn't 
 care much about seeing her again. She is a tall, 
 gaunt, disagreeable woman; while Ida is fair and 
 sweet looking. Ida's mother, whoever she is, I am 
 sure, is a lady in appearance and manners, and Mrs. 
 Hardwick is neither. I took a dislike to her when I 
 first saw her. Aunt Rachel was right for once." 
 
 " What did Rachel say? " 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 223 
 
 " She said the nurse was an impostor, and declared 
 it was only a plot to get possession of Ida ; but then, 
 that was to be expected of Aunt Rachel." 
 
 " Still it seems difficult to imagine any satisfactory 
 motive on the part of the woman, supposing her not 
 to be Ida's mother." 
 
 "Mother or not," returned Jack, " she's got pos- 
 session of Ida ; and, from all that you say, she is not 
 the best person to bring her up. I am determined 
 to rescue Ida from this she-dragon. Will you help 
 me, uncle?" 
 
 " You may count upon me, Jack, for all I can do." 
 
 "Then," said Jack with energy, "we shall 
 succeed. I feel sure of it. c Where there's a wiD 
 there's a way,' you know, uncle." 
 
 " I wish you success, Jack ; but if the people who 
 have got Ida are counterfeiters; they are desperate 
 characters, and you must proceed cautiously." 
 
 "I aint afraid of them," said Jack, confidently. 
 " I'm on the war-path now, Uncle Abel, and they'd 
 better look out for me." 
 
224 JActfs WARD; 012, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE first thing to be done by Jack was, of course, 
 in some way to obtain a clew to the whereabouts of 
 Peg, or Mrs. Hard wick, to use the name by which he 
 knew her. No mode of proceeding likely to secure 
 this result occurred to him, beyond the very obvious 
 one of keeping in the street as much as possible, in 
 the hope that chance might bring him face to face 
 with the object of his pursuit. 
 
 There was not much chance of his failing to recog- 
 nize her. Her face was so accurately photographed 
 in his memory, that he felt certain he should know 
 her at once, under whatever circumstances they might 
 chance to meet, 
 
 Following out this plan, Jack became a daily 
 promenader in Chestnut, "Walnut, and other leading 
 thoroughfares. Jack became himself an object of 
 attention, on account of what appeared to be his 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 225 
 
 singular behavior. It was observed that he had no 
 glances to spare for young ladies, but persistently 
 stared at the faces of all middle-aged or elderly 
 women whom he met a circumstance naturally 
 calculated to attract remark in the case of a well- 
 made lad like Jack. 
 
 Several days passed ; and although he only returned 
 to his uncle's house at the hour of meals, he had the 
 same report to bring on each occasion. 
 
 " I am afraid," said the baker, " it will be as hard 
 as looking for a needle in a hay-stack, to find the one 
 you seek among so many faces." 
 
 " There's nothing like trying," said Jack, courage- 
 ously. " I'm not going to give up yet a while. I'd 
 know Ida or Mrs. Hardwick anywhere." 
 
 "You ought to write home, Jack. They will be 
 getting anxious about you." 
 
 "I'm going to write this morning I put it off, 
 because I hoped to have some news to write. How- 
 ever, I won't wait any longer, or Aunt Rachel will 
 be sure some awful accident has happened to me." 
 
 He sat down and wrote the following note : 
 15 
 
JACK'S WARD; ox, 
 
 PARENTS: I arrived in Philadelphia 
 right side up with care, and am stopping at Uncle 
 Abel's. He received me very kindly. I have got 
 track of Ida, though I have not found her yet. I 
 have learned as much as this : that this Mrs. Hard- 
 wick who is a doubled-distilled she-rascal, pro- 
 bably has Ida in her clutches ; and has sent her on 
 two occasions to my uncle's. I am spending most 
 of my time in the streets, keeping a good look-out for 
 her. If I do meet her, see if I don't get Ida away 
 from her. But it may take some time. Don't get 
 discouraged, therefore, but wait patiently. When- 
 ever anything new turns up, you will receive a line 
 from your dutiful son, 
 
 " JACK." 
 
 In reply to this letter, or rather note, his father 
 wrote him to spare no time or pains as long as there 
 remained a chance to recover Ida. 
 
 Jack had been in the city eight days, when, as he 
 was sauntering along the street, he suddenly per- 
 ceived in front of him, a shawl which struck him as 
 wonderfully like the one worn by Mrs. Hardwick, 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 227 
 
 Not only that, but the form of the wearer corre- 
 sponded to his recollections of the nurse. Full of 
 hope that it might be she, he bounded forward, and 
 rapidly passing the suspected person, turned suddenly 
 round, and confronted the woman of whom he had 
 been in search. 
 
 The recognition was mutual. Peg was taken aback 
 by this unexpected encounter. 
 
 Her first impulse was to make off, but Jack's reso- 
 lute expression warned her that he was not to be 
 trifled with. 
 
 " Mrs. Hard wick I" exclaimed Jack. 
 
 11 You are right," said she, rapidly recovering her 
 composure, " and you, if I am not mistaken, are 
 John Harding, the son of my worthy friends in New 
 York." 
 
 " Well," ejaculated Jack, internally, " she's a cool 
 'un, and no mistake." 
 
 " My name is Jack," he said aloud. 
 
 " Did you leave all well at home?" asked Peg, 
 composedly. 
 
 " You can't guess what I came here for ? ' r said Jack, 
 not thinking it necessary to answer the polite inquiry. 
 
228 JACJfs WARD; OR, 
 
 " To see your sister Ida, I persume," said Mrs. 
 Hardwick. 
 
 1 'Yes," answered Jack, amazed at the woman's 
 composure. 
 
 " I thought some of you would be coming on," 
 continued Peg, whose prolific genius had already 
 mapped out her course. 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 " Yes, it was only natural. What did your 
 father and mother say to the letter I wrote them ? " 
 
 " The letter you wrote them ! " exclaimed Jack, in 
 fresh bewilderment. 
 
 4 Certainly. You got it, didn't you ? " 
 
 " I don't know what letter you mean." 
 
 " A letter in which I wrote that Ida's mother had 
 been so pleased with the appearance and manners 
 of the child, that she could not determine to part 
 with her, but had determined to keep her for the 
 present." 
 
 "You don't mean to say, that any such letter as 
 that has been written?" said Jack, incredulously. 
 
 "What, has it not been received?" inquired 
 Peg, in the greatest apparent astonishment 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 229 
 
 "Nothing like it," answered Jack. "When was 
 it written?" 
 
 " The second day after our arrival," said Peg, un- 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 " If that is the case," said Jack, not knowing what 
 to think," it must have miscarried, for we never re 
 ceived it." 
 
 " That is a pity. How anxious you all must have 
 felt ! " said Mrs. Hardwick, sympathizingly. 
 
 ' ' It seems as if half the family were gone. But how 
 long does Ida's mother mother mean to keep her ? " 
 
 " Perhaps six months." 
 
 "But," said Jack, his suspicions returning, "I 
 have been told that Ida has twice called at a baker's 
 shop in this city, and when asked what her name was, 
 answered, Ida Hardwick? You don't mean to say 
 that you pretend to be her mother." 
 
 "Yes, I do," replied Peg, calmly. "I didn'1 
 mean to tell you, but as you've found out, I won't 
 deny it." 
 
 "It's a lie," said Jack, indignantly. " She isn't 
 your daughter." 
 
 " Young man," said Peg, with wonderful self-corn- 
 
230 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 mand, "you are exciting yourself to no purpose. 
 You asked me if I pretended to be her mother. I do 
 pretend, but I admit frankly that it is all pretence." 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean," said Jack, 
 mystified. 
 
 " Then I will take the trouble to explain to you, 
 though you have treated me so impolitely that I might 
 well refuse. As I informed your father and mother in 
 New York, there are circumstances which stand in 
 the way of Ida's real mother recognizing her as her 
 own child. Still, as she desires her company, in 
 order to avert suspicion and prevent embarrassing 
 questions being asked while she remains in Philadel- 
 phia, she to is pass as my daughter." 
 
 This explanation was tolerably plausible, and Jack 
 was unable to gainsay it, though it was disagreeable 
 for him to think of even a nominal connection be- 
 tween Ida and the woman before him. 
 
 ' Can I see Ida? " he asked. 
 
 "To his great joy," Peg replied, "I don't think 
 there can be any objection. I am going to the house 
 now. Will you come with me now, or appoint some 
 other time." 
 
THK EOT GUARDIAN. 231 
 
 "Now, by all means," said Jack, eagerly. 
 " Nothing shall stand in the way of my seeing Ida." 
 
 A grim smile passed over Peg's face. 
 
 " Follow me, then," she said. " I have no doubt 
 Ida will be delighted to see you." 
 
 "Dear Ida!" said Jack. "Is she well, Mrs. 
 Hardwick?" 
 
 1 'Perfectly well," answered Peg. "She has en- 
 joyed perfect health ever since she came to Philadel- 
 phia." 
 
 " I suppose," said Jack, with a pang, "that she is 
 so taken up with her new Mends, that she has nearly 
 forgotten her old friends in New York." 
 
 " If she had," answered Peg, sustaining her part 
 with admirable self-possession, " she would not de- 
 serve to have friends at all. She is quite happy here, 
 but she will be very glad to return to New York to 
 those who have been so kind to her." 
 
 "Really," thought Jack, "I don't know what to 
 make of this Mrs. Hardwick. She talks fair enough, 
 though her looks are against her. Perhaps I have 
 misjudged her, after all." 
 
232 JAC&S WARD; 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CAUGHT IN A TRAP. 
 
 JACK and Ms guide paused in front of a large 
 three-story brick building. 
 
 " Does Ida's mother live here? " interrogated Jack. 
 
 "Yes," answered Peg, promptly. "Follow me 
 up the steps if you want to see your sister." 
 
 The woman led the way, and Jack followed, sus- 
 pecting nothing. 
 
 The former rang the bell. An untidy servant girl 
 made her appearance. 
 
 Mrs. Hardwick spoke to the servant in so low a 
 voice that Jack couldn't hear what she said. 
 
 " Certainly, mum," answered the servant, and led 
 the way upstairs to a back room on the third floor. 
 
 " Go in and take a seat," she said to Peg. " I 
 will send Ida to you immediately." 
 
 " All right ! " said Jack, in a tone of satisfaction. 
 
 Peg went out, closing the door after her. She, at 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 233 
 
 the same time, softly slipped a bolt which had been 
 placed upon the outside. Then hastening downstairs 
 she found the proprietor of the house, a little old 
 man with a shrewd, twinkling eye, and a long 
 aquiline nose. 
 
 " I have brought you a boarder," she said. 
 
 " Who is it?" 
 
 "A lad, who is likely to interfere in our plans. 
 You may keep him in confinement for the present." 
 
 "Very good," said the old man, shrugging his 
 shoulders. "Is he likely to make a fuss." 
 
 "I should think it very likely. He is high- 
 spirited and impetuous, but you know how to man- 
 age him." 
 
 " Oh, yes," nodded the old man. 
 
 " You can think of some pretext for keeping him. 
 He'll ask an explanation." 
 
 "Suppose I tell him he's in a mad-house?" said 
 the old man, laughing, and thereby showing some 
 yellow fangs, which by no means improved his 
 appearance. 
 
 " Just the thing ! It'll frighten him." 
 
 " We'll take care of him. Don't be troubled." 
 
234 JACJ^S WARD; OB, 
 
 There was a little further conversation in a low 
 tone, and then Peg went away. 
 
 " Fairly trapped, my young bird ! " she thought to 
 herself. " I think that will put a stop to your 
 troublesome appearance for the present. You 
 haven't lived quite long enough to be a match for 
 old Peg. You'll find that out after a while." 
 
 Meanwhile Jack, wholly unsuspicious that any 
 trick had been played upon him, seated himself in a 
 rocking-chair, and waited impatiently for the coming 
 of Ida, whom he was resolved to carry back to New 
 York if his persuasions would effect it. 
 
 Impelled by a natural curiosity, he examined at- 
 tentively the room in which he was seated. It was 
 furnished passably well. There was a plain carpet 
 on the floor, and the other furniture was that of an 
 ordinary bed-chamber. The most conspicuous orna- 
 ment was a large full-length portrait against the 
 side of the wall. It represented an unknown man, 
 not particularly striking in his appearance. There 
 was, besides, a small table with two or three books 
 upon it. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 235 
 
 Jack waited patiently for twenty minutes. Then 
 he began to grow impatient. 
 
 " Perhaps Ida may be out," he reflected. " Still, 
 even if she is, Mrs. Hardwick ought to come and 
 let me know. It's dull work staying here alone." 
 
 Another fifteen minutes passed, and still no Ida 
 appeared. 
 
 "This is rather singular," thought Jack. "She 
 can't have told Ida I am here, or I am sure she 
 would rush up at once to see her brother Jack." 
 
 At length, tired of waiting, and under the im- 
 pression that he had been forgotten, Jack walked to 
 the door, and placing his hand upon the latch, 
 attempted to open it. 
 
 There was a greater resistance than he anticipated. 
 
 Supposing that it must stick, he used increased 
 exertion, but the door perversely refused to open. 
 
 "Good heavens?" thought Jack, in consterna- 
 tion, as the real state of the case flashed upon him, 
 44 is it possible that I am locked in?" 
 
 To determine this, he employed all his strength, 
 but the door still resisted, He could no longer doubt 
 that it was locked. 
 
 
 
JACK'S WARD; os, 
 
 He rushed to the windows. They were two in 
 number, and looked out upon a yard in the rear of 
 the house. No part of the street was visible from 
 them; therefore there was no hope of drawing the 
 attention of passers-by to his situation. 
 
 Confounded by this discovery, Jack sank into his 
 chair in no very enviable state of mind. 
 
 " Well," thought he, " this is a pretty situation for 
 me to be in ! I wonder what father would say if he 
 knew that I had managed to get locked up like this ? 
 I am ashamed to think I let that treacherous woman, 
 Mrs. Hardwick, lead me so quietly into a snare. 
 Aunt Eachel was about right when she said I wasn't 
 fit to come alone. I hope she'll never find out about 
 this adventure of mine. If she did, I should never 
 hear the last of it." 
 
 Jack's mortification was extreme. His self-love 
 was wounded by the thought that a woman had got 
 the better of him ; and he resolved, if he ever got out, 
 that he would make Mrs. Hardwick suffer, he didn't 
 quite know how, for the manner in which she had de- 
 ceived him. 
 
THE OT GUARDIAN. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 DR. ROBINSON. 
 
 TIME passed. Every hour seemed to poor Jack to 
 Contains at least double the number of minutes that 
 are usually reckoned to that division of time. More- 
 over, not having eaten for several hours, he was get- 
 ting hungry. 
 
 A horrible suspicion flashed across his mind. 
 
 ** The wretches can't mean to starve me, can they ? " 
 he asked himself. Despite his constitutional courage 
 he could not help shuddering at the idea. 
 
 He was unexpectedly answered by the unexpected 
 opening of the door, and the appearance of the old 
 man whose interview with Mrs. Hardwick has already 
 been reported. 
 
 "Are you getting hungry, my dear sir?" he in- 
 quired, with a disagreeable smile upon his features. 
 
 "Why am I confined here?" demanded Jack, 
 angrily. 
 
238 jACifs WARD; GJZ, 
 
 " Why are you confined? " repeated his interlocutor, 
 " Eeally, one would think you didn't find your quar- 
 ters comfortable." 
 
 " I am so far from finding them agreeable, that I in- 
 sist upon leaving them immediately," returned Jack* 
 
 " Then all you have got to do is to walk through 
 that door." 
 
 " You have locked it." 
 
 " Why, so I have," said the old man, with a disa- 
 greeable leer. 
 
 " I insist upon your opening it." 
 
 " I shall do so when I get ready to go out, myself." 
 
 " I shall go with you." 
 
 " 1 think not." 
 
 "Who's to prevent me?" said Jack, defiantly. 
 
 He felt that he was stronger than the old man, and 
 though he did not want to come into collision with one 
 BO much older than himself, yet, if necessary, he 
 determined to make use of his strength. 
 
 " Who's to prevent you?" 
 
 " Yes ; you'd better not attempt it. I should be 
 Bony to hurt you, but I mean to go out. If you 
 
TRE EOT GUARDIAN. 
 
 attempt to stop me, you must take the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 " I am afraid you are a violent young man. But 
 I've got a man just outside the door who is a match 
 for two like you." 
 
 "Is that true?" 
 
 " I'll show you." 
 
 " The old man opened the door." 
 
 " Samuel, show yourself," he said. 
 
 A brawny negro, six feet in height, and evidently 
 very powerful, came to the entrance. 
 
 "If this young man attempts to escape, Samuel, 
 what will you do ? " 
 
 " Tie him hand and foot," answered the negro. 
 
 " That'll do, Samuel. Stay where you are." 
 
 He closed the door, and looked triumphantly at 
 our hero. 
 
 Jack threw himself sullenly into a chair. 
 
 "Where is the woman that brought me here?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Peg? Oh, she couldn't stay She had important 
 business to transact, my young friend, and so she has 
 gone ; but don't feel anxious. She commended you 
 
240 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 to our particular attention, and you will be just as 
 well treated as if she were here." 
 
 This assurance was not very well calculated to 
 comfort Jack. 
 
 "How long are you going to keep me cooped up 
 here?" he asked desperately, wishing to learn the 
 worst at once. 
 
 " Really, my young friend, I couldn't say. I don't 
 know how long it will be before you are cured." 
 
 " Cured? " repeated Jack, puzzled. 
 
 "Yes; it wouldn't be safe for you to go at 
 present." 
 
 "Why wouldn't it?" 
 
 The old man tapped his forehead. 
 
 " You're a little affected, here, you know, but under 
 my treatment I hope soon to restore you to your 
 friends quite recovered.'* 
 
 "What!" ejaculated our hero, terror-stricken, 
 "you don't mean to say you think I'm crazy?" 
 
 "To be sure you are," said the old man, confi- 
 dently, "but" 
 
 " But I tell you it's a lie," exclaimed Jack, ener- 
 getically. "Who told you so?" 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 241 
 
 :four aunt." 
 
 44 My aunt?" 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Hardwick. She brought you here to 
 be treated for insanity. 
 
 " It's a base lie," said Jack, hotly. *' That woman 
 is no more my aunt than you are. She's an impostor. 
 She carried off my sister Ida, and this is only a 
 plot to get rid of me. She told me she was going to 
 take me to see Ida." 
 
 The old man shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "My young friend," he said, "she told me all 
 about it that you had a delusion about some sup- 
 posed sister, whom you accused her of carrying off. 
 That's your delusion." 
 
 " This is outrageous," said Jack, hotly. " Do you 
 really believe what that woman tells you? Why, I 
 am as sane as you are. I've come on from New York 
 to recover my sister whom she carried away." 
 
 " No doubt you think so. She told me the de- 
 lusion was very strong. You must try to get rid 
 of it." 
 
 Poor Jack! He was thoroughly exasperated, to 
 16 
 
242 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 think that such an abominable story was believed by 
 the old man. 
 
 " Send for my Uncle Abel ; he lives in this city," 
 he said. " He'll tell you it's all true." 
 
 " It would be of no use," said the old man. " I 
 haven't time to inquire into the delusions of all my 
 patients. Why, there's one woman here insists that 
 she is the President's mother-in-law, and wants me 
 to go to Washington and inquire into the matter." 
 
 " Of course that is absurd." 
 
 " That's what all my patients say about the delu- 
 sions of the rest. You see, my dear young friend, I 
 really cannot comply with your request." 
 
 " What's your name?" asked Jack, abruptly. 
 
 " Dr. Robinson." 
 
 " And you are a mad-doctor? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then you ought to know by my looks that I am 
 not crazy." 
 
 " Pardon me, my young friend; that doesn't 
 follow. There is a peculiar appearance about youi 
 eyes which I cannot mistake. I have seen it too 
 often in those whose minds are aflected. There's no 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 243 
 
 mistake about it, my good sir. Your mind has gone 
 astray, but if you'll be quiet, and won't excite 
 yourself, you'll soon be well." 
 
 "How soon?" 
 
 " Well, two or three months." 
 
 " Two or three months ! You don't mean to say 
 you want to confine me here two or three months." 
 
 " I hope I can release you sooner. It will depend 
 upon bow fast you improve." 
 
 Jack looked blank enough at this announcement. 
 It never occurred to him to doubt that the old man 
 was, what he pretended to be, a physician, and the 
 proprietor of an asylum for the insane. 
 
 " Is this an insane asylum? " he asked. 
 
 u Why, not exactly. I take a few patients ; that 
 is all." 
 
 " You can't understand your business very well, 
 or you would see at once that I am not insane." 
 
 " That's what all my patients say. They won't 
 any of them own that their minds are affected." 
 
 Jack reflected. 
 
 " May I write a letter?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, certainly, anything in reason.' 
 
244 JACE?S WARD; oj?, 
 
 "I want to write to my uncle to come here and 
 convince you that it is all a mistake." 
 
 " I shall be very glad to see your uncle," said Dr. 
 Robinson, as he called himself. 
 
 u Will you supply me with some writing mate- 
 rials?" 
 
 " Yes ; Samuel shall bring them here." 
 
 " I suppose you will excuse my suggesting also 
 that it is dinner-time." 
 
 " He shall bring you some dinner at the same 
 time." 
 
 With this Jack had to be satisfied. 
 
 The old man retired, but in fifteen minutes a plate 
 of meat and vegetables was brought to the room. 
 
 "I'll bring the pen and ink afterwards," said the 
 negro. 
 
 In spite of his extraordinary situation and uncer- 
 tain prospects, Jack ate with his usual appetite. 
 
 Then he penned a letter to his uncle, briefly 
 detailing the circumstances of his present situation, 
 and imploring his uncle to come at once and explain 
 to the doctor that he stood in no need of his care. 
 
 " I am afraid," the letter concluded, " that while I 
 
THE SOY GUARDIAN. 245 
 
 am shut up here, Mrs. Hardwick will carry Ida out 
 of the city, where it will be more difficult for us to 
 get on her track. She is evidently a dangerous and 
 unprincipled woman." 
 
 Two days passed and no notice was taken of the 
 letter, which Dr. Robinson had promised to send by a 
 special messenger. 
 
 Jack got impatient. How should he know that the 
 letter had been quietly suppressed, and that his 
 Uncle Abel was entirely ignorant about his present 
 condition or whereabouts. In fact the letter had 
 been burned, and all his time spent m composing it 
 had been thrown awy. 
 
246 JACX?S WARD; on, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 JACK BEGINS TO REAJLIZE HIS SITUATION. 
 
 " IT'S very strange," thought Jack, " that Uncle 
 Abel doesn't take any notice of my letter." 
 
 In fact, our hero felt rather indignant, as well as 
 surprised, and on the next visit of Dr. Robinson, he 
 |sked, " Hasn't my uncle been here to ask about 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes," said the old man, unexpectedly. 
 
 " When did he call?" asked Jack, eagerly. 
 
 " Yesterday." 
 
 '" Why didn't you bring him up here to see me ? " 
 
 " He just inquired how you were, and said he 
 thought yo:i were better off with us than you would 
 be at home." 
 
 " Did you tell him I was crazy? " demanded Jack, 
 angrily. 
 
 " Yes. 
 
 "And did he believe it?" 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 247 
 
 " To be sure he did ! Why shouldn't he ? " 
 
 Jack looked fixedly in the face of the pretended 
 doctor, and what he saw there convinced him that 
 he had been deceived. 
 
 " I don't believe it," he said. 
 
 " Don't believe what?" 
 
 " That my uncle has been here at all." 
 
 " Oh, do as you like about believing it," said the 
 old man, indifferently. 
 
 " I don't believe you mailed my letter to my uncle 
 at all." 
 
 "Have it your own way, my young friend. Of 
 course I can't argue with a maniac." 
 
 "Don't call me a maniac, you old humbug!" ex- 
 claimed Jack in great excitement. "You ought to 
 be in jail for this outrage." 
 
 "Ho, ho ! How very amusing you are, my young 
 friend!" said the old man. "You'd make a first- 
 class tragedian, you really would." 
 
 " I might lo something tragic, if I had a weapon," 
 said Jack, significantly. " Are you going to let me 
 out?" 
 
 " Positively, I can't part with you. You are too 
 
248 JACK'S WARD; OR> 
 
 good company," said Doctor Robinson, mockingly 
 " You'll thank me for my care of you when you are 
 quite cured." 
 
 " That's all rubbish," said Jack, boldly. " I'm no 
 more crazy than you are, and you know it. Will you 
 answer me a question ? " 
 
 4 'It depends on what it is," said the old man, 
 cautiously. 
 
 "Has that woman Mrs. Hardwick been here 
 to ask about me ? " 
 
 " Certainly, she has. She takes a great deal of 
 interest in you." 
 
 " Was there a little girl with her? " 
 
 " I believe so. I really don't remember." 
 
 "If she calls again, either with or without Ida, 
 will you ask her to come up here. I want to see her." 
 
 " Yes, I'll tell her. Now, my young friend, I must 
 really leave you. Business before pleasure, you 
 know." 
 
 " How I detest that old humbug ! " thought Jack, 
 as the old man went out of the room. " What can 
 be his object in keeping me here, and what has he 
 to do with Mrs. Hardwick? " 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 249 
 
 Jack found it easier to ask than to answer these 
 questions. Tiled of thinking about the subject, he 
 looked about the room for something to read. He 
 found among other books a small volume, purporting 
 to contain '* The Adventures of Baron Trenck." 
 
 It may be that the reader has never encountered a 
 copy of this singular book. Baron Trenck was several 
 times imprisoned for political offences, and this book 
 contains an account of the manner in which he succeed- 
 ed, after years of labor, in escaping from his dungeon. 
 
 Jack read the book with intense interest. It was* 
 just such a one as he would have read with avidity 
 under any circumstances. It gratified his taste for 
 adventure, and he entered heart and soul into the 
 Baron's plans and felt a thrill of gratification when 
 he succeeded. When he completed the perusal of 
 this fascinating volume, he asked himself, "Why 
 cannot I imitate Baron Trenck ? He was far worse 
 off than I am. If he could succeed in overcoming 
 so many obstacles, it is a pity if I can't find some 
 means of escape." 
 
 He looked about the room in the hope that some 
 plan might be suggested. 
 
250 JACK'S WARD; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE SECRET STAIRCASE. 
 
 THE prospect certainly was not a bright one. 
 The door was fast locked, and there could be no 
 egress there. Escape from the windows seemed 
 equally impracticable. This apparently exhausted 
 the avenues of possible escape that were open to the 
 dissatisfied prisoner. But accidentally Jack made an 
 important discovery. 
 
 It has already been said that there was a full- 
 length portrait in the room. Jack chanced to rest 
 his hand against it, when he must unconsciously 
 have touched some secret spring, for a secret door 
 opened, dividing the picture in two parts, and, to our 
 hero's unbounded astonishment, he saw before him a 
 small spiral staircase leading down into the dark- 
 ness, whither he could not tell on account of the 
 imperfect light. 
 
 " By gracious, this is a queer old house ! " thought 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 251 
 
 Jack. " I wonder where those stairs go to. I've a 
 great mind to explore." 
 
 There was not much chance of detection; he re- 
 flected, as it would be three hours before his next 
 meal would be brought him. He left the door open, 
 therefore, and began slowly and cautiously to go 
 down the staircase. It seemed a long one, longer 
 than was necessary to connect two floors. Boldly, 
 Jack kept on till he reached the bottom. 
 
 4 'Where am I?" thought our hero. "I must be 
 down as low as the cellar." 
 
 While this thought passed through his mind, 
 voices suddenly struck upon his ear. He had ac- 
 customed himself now to the darkness, and ascer- 
 tained that there was a crevice through which he 
 could look in the direction from which the sounds 
 proceeded. Applying his eye, he could distinguish 
 a small cellar apartment, in the middle of which was 
 a printing press, and work was evidently going on. 
 He could distinguish three persons. Two were 
 in their shirt-sleeves, bending over an engraver's 
 bench. Beside them, and apparently superintending 
 
252 JAGS' s WARD; OR, 
 
 their work, was the old man whom Jack knew as 
 Doctor Robinson. 
 
 u What can they be doing?" thought the prisoner, 
 with strong curiosity. 
 
 He applied his ear to the crevice, and heard these 
 words : 
 
 "This lot is rather better than the last, Jones. 
 We can't be too careful, or the detectives will 
 interfere with our business. Some of the last lot 
 were rather coarse." 
 
 " I know it, sir," answered the man, addressed as 
 Jones. " We'll try not to let it happen again, sir." 
 
 11 There's nothing the matter with this," said the 
 old man, apparently taking one into his hand and 
 examining it. " There isn't one person in a hundred 
 that would suspect it was not genuine." 
 
 Jack pricked up his ears. 
 
 "What can they be talking about?" he said to 
 himself. 
 
 Looking once more through the crevice, he at last 
 ascertained that it was a bill that the old man had in 
 his hand. 
 
 " They're counterfeiters," he said half audibly. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 253 
 
 Low as the tone was, it startled Doctor Robinson, 
 to give him his false name. 
 
 44 Ha ! " said he startled, " what's that? " 
 
 " What's what, sir ? " said Jones. 
 
 " I thought I heard some one speaking." 
 
 " I didn't hear nothing, sir." 
 
 " Did you hear nothing, Ferguson?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " I suppose I was deceived, then," said the old 
 man, apparently satisfied. 
 
 " How many bills have you there?" he resumed. 
 
 " Seventy-nine, sir." 
 
 " That's a very good day's work," said the old 
 man in a tone of satisfaction. ' c It's a paying 
 business," and he rubbed his hands complacently. 
 
 "It pays you, sir," said Jones, in rather a 
 grumbling tone. 
 
 " And it shall pay you too, my man, never fear ! 
 You have only to go on, and give me as good work 
 as you have done to-day, and I will see that you 
 are well rewarded." 
 
 Jack had made a great discovery. He understood 
 now the connection between Mrs. Hardwick and the 
 
254 JACOBS WARD; on, 
 
 old man whom he now knew not to be a physician. 
 He was at the head of a gang of counterfeiters, and she 
 was engaged in putting the false money into circula- 
 tion. 
 
 " And she has made Ida do some of her dirty 
 work," said Jack, indignantly. " The wretch ! " 
 
 He softly ascended the staircase, and re-entered 
 the room he left, closing the secret door behind him. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 JACK IS DETECTED. 
 
 "I BEGIN to understand matters a little better,' 
 thought Jack. " I've got into bad company, that's 
 clear, and the sooner I get out the better." 
 
 It was easy to arrive at this conclusion, but the 
 difficult problem still remained, " How was he to 
 get out?" 
 
 In the course of the afternoon, Jack made another 
 visit to the foot of the staircase. He saw through 
 the crevice the same two men at work, but the old 
 man was not with them. Ascertaining this, he ought, 
 in prudence, immediately to have retraced his steps, 
 but he remained on watch for twenty minutes. When 
 at length he did return to his room, he was startled 
 and confounded by finding the old man seated, and 
 waiting for him. There was a menacing expression 
 on his face. 
 
 "Where have you been?" he demanded abruptly. 
 
256 JACI?S WARD; GJI, 
 
 " Downstairs," answered Jack. 
 " Who told you of the staircase?" 
 " Nobody : I found it myself." 
 " How did you find it ?" 
 -" I touched the spring by accident." 
 " How many times have you been down below?*' 
 " Twice." 
 
 "Ha! What did you see?" 
 
 " I may as well own up," thought Jack. " If I 
 don't he'll know I am deceiving him." 
 
 11 Through a crack I saw some men at work in a 
 basement room," he replied. 
 
 " Do you know what they were doing?" asked the 
 old man, keenly. 
 " I could guess." 
 "Well, what was it?" 
 " Counterfeiting, I should think." 
 "Well, is there anything wrong in that?" 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders. 
 " I suppose you wouldn't want to be found out," 
 he answered. 
 
 Again the old man surveyed him keenly. " You 
 are right," he said at last. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 257 
 
 Jack remained silent. 
 
 " I didn't mean to have you make this discovery,** 
 he continued after a pause, " but it's happened, and 
 can't be helped. Now there's only one thing to be 
 done." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " You have become possessed of an important I 
 may say, a dangerous secret. You have us in your 
 power." 
 
 "I suppose," said Jack, "you are afraid I will 
 Denounce you to the police?" 
 
 " Well, there is a possibility of that. That class 
 of people has a prejudice against us, though we are 
 only doing what everybody likes to do, making 
 money." 
 
 Jack reflected a moment. 
 
 " Will you let me go if I will promise to keep your 
 secret?" he asked. 
 
 " What assurance have we that you would keep 
 your promise ? " 
 
 " I would pledge my word." 
 
 " Your word ! " Foley, for this was the old man's 
 17 
 
258 JACI?S WARD; ox, 
 
 real name, snapped his fingers. " I wouldn't give 
 that for it. That is not sufficient." 
 
 " What will be?" 
 
 11 You must become one of us." 
 
 " One of you ! " 
 
 Jack was startled by a proposition so unexpected. 
 
 1 'Yes. You must make yourself liable to the 
 same penalties, so that it will be for your own inter 
 est to remain silent. Otherwise we can't trust you." 
 
 " Suppose I decline these terms?" 
 
 "Then I shall be under the painful necessity of 
 retaining you as my guest," said Foley, smiling dis- 
 agreeably. 
 
 "What made you pretend to be a mad-doctor?" 
 asked Jack. 
 
 "To put you off the track," said Foley. "You 
 believed it, didn't you ? " 
 
 "At first." 
 
 Jack walked the room in perturbation. He felt 
 that imprisonment would be better than liberty pur- 
 chased by criminality. At the same time he felt that 
 it would not be best to refuse peremptorily, as it 
 might lead to a stricter confinement than before. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 259 
 
 He decided that it was best to temporize. 
 
 " Well, what do you say?" asked Foley. 
 
 " I should like to take time to reflect upon your 
 proposal," said Jack. "It is of so important a 
 character that I don't like to decide at once." 
 
 " How long do you require? " 
 
 " Two days. Suppose I join you, shall I get good 
 
 pay?" 
 
 " Excellent," answered Foley, briskly. "In fact, 
 you'll be better paid than a boy of your age would be 
 anywhere else." 
 
 " That's worth thinking about," said Jack, gravely, 
 bent upon making Foley think he was seriously 
 inclined to accept his proposal. " My father is poor, 
 and I've got my own way to make." 
 
 "You couldn't have a better opening. You're a 
 smart lad, and will be sure to succeed." 
 
 " Well, I'll think of it," said Jack. " If I should 
 make up my mind before the end of two days, I will 
 let you know." 
 
 " Very well. You can't do better." 
 
 " But there's one thing I want to ask about," said 
 
260 JACOBS WARD; OB, 
 
 Jack, with pretended anxiety. "Itfs pretty risky 
 business, isn't it? " 
 
 "Fve been in the business ten years, and they 
 haven't got hold of me yet," answered Foley. " All 
 you've got to do is, to be careful." 
 
 " He'll join," said Foley to himself, as he left the 
 room. " He's a smart fellow, and we can make him 
 useful. It'll be the best way to dispose of one who 
 might get us into trouble." 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 JACK'S TRIUMPH. 
 
 ," thought Jack, "it appears I've got aiv 
 offer to go into business one, too, in which I am 
 sure to make money. I suppose I ought to feel com- 
 plimented, but I don't exactly see it in that light." 
 
 It was uncomfortable enough to be in confinement, 
 but to Jack it was even more of a hardship because it 
 made it utterly impossible for him to prosecute his 
 search for Ida. 
 
 " It won't do to stay cooped up here," he decided, 
 and for the tenth time he began to sonsider what was 
 the most feasible method of escape. 
 
 Finally he was brought to adopt the boldest plan 
 that suggested itself. He resolved upon a coup de 
 main. If any of my readers are ignorant of the 
 meaning of this phrase, they will soon be enlight- 
 ened. 
 
 The next day Jack had another visit from Foley. 
 
262 JACK'S WARD: ow, 
 
 "Well," said the old man, nodding, "have you 
 thought over my proposal?" 
 
 "Yes," said Jack. 
 
 " And decided to accept?" 
 
 ' ' I don't know that I can do better," answered our 
 hero. 
 
 "You're sensible," said Foley, briskly. 
 
 " What should I have to do? " asked Jack. 
 
 *' Sometimes one thing, and sometimes another. 
 At first we might employ you to put off some of the 
 bills." 
 
 " That would be easy work, anyway," said Jack. 
 
 " Yes, there is nothing hard about that, except to 
 look innocent." 
 
 " I can do that," said Jack, laughing. " Trust me 
 for that." 
 
 " You're smart ; I can tell by the looks of you," 
 said Foley. 
 
 " Do you really think so?" returned Jack, appear- 
 ing flattered. 
 
 " Yes ; you'll make one of our best hands." 
 
 "I suppose Mrs. Hardwick is in your employ?" 
 said Jack. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 263 
 
 "Perhaps she is, and perhaps she isn't," said 
 Foley, non-committally. "That is something you 
 don't need to know." 
 
 " Oh, I don't care to know," said Jack, carelessly. 
 "I only asked. I was afraid you would set me to 
 work down in the cellar." 
 
 "You don't know enough about the business yet. 
 We need skilled workmen there. You couldn't do us 
 any good there." 
 
 " I shouldn't like it, anyway. It must be unpleas- 
 ant to be down there." 
 
 " "We pay the workmen you saw good pay. They 
 are experienced men." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so. When do you want me to 
 begin?" 
 
 " I can't tell you just yet. I'U think about it." 
 
 "I hope it'll be soon, for I'm tired of staying 
 here. By the way, that's a capital idea about the 
 secret staircase. Who'd ever think the portrait con- 
 cealed it?" said Jack. 
 
 As he spoke he advanced to the portrait in an 
 easy, natural manner, and touched the spring. 
 
 Of course it flew opn. 
 
264 JACtfs WARD; oiz, 
 
 The old man also drew near. 
 
 4 'That was my idea," he said in a complacent 
 tone. " Of course we have to keep everything as 
 secret as possible, and I flatter myself " 
 
 His remark came to a sudden pause. He had 
 incautiously got between Jack and the open door. 
 Now our hero, who was close upon eighteen, and 
 strongly built, was considerably more than a match 
 in physical strength for Foley. He suddenly seized 
 the old man, thrust him through the aperture, then 
 closed the secret door, and sprang for the door of 
 the room. 
 
 The key was in the lock where Foley, whose 
 confidence made him careless, had left it. Turning 
 it, he hurried downstairs, meeting no one on the 
 way. To open the front door and dash through it 
 was the work of an instant. As he descended the 
 stairs he could hear the muffled shout of the old 
 man whom he had made prisoner, but this only 
 caused him to accelerate his speed. 
 
 When he found himself in the street he felt a thrill 
 of exultation at the success of his plan. 
 
THE JBOT GUARDIAN. 265 
 
 'Where's your hat, mister?" asked a grinning 
 ctreet boy. 
 
 Jack put his hand to his head, and for the first 
 time it occurred to him that in his hurry he had come 
 away without a hat. It was rather awkward, but 
 was a small matter compared with the loss of liberty. 
 
 "Gone on a visit," answered Jack. "Lend me 
 yours." 
 
 " I'll sell it to you for fifty cents," said the boy. 
 
 Jack glanced at the boy's hat. It was quite re- 
 spectable in appearance, but it might not fit. 
 
 "I'll take it if it fits," said Jack, promptly. 
 " Let me try it." 
 
 "You won't run off with it?" inquired the boy, 
 cautiously. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said Jack. 
 
 The boy, upon this assurance, handed over the 
 hat. 
 
 It was a good fit, and our hero at once drew from 
 Uis pocket the price demanded. 
 
 " Now I sha'n't excite attention," said he to him- 
 self. " The old man's welcome to the hat I left 
 behind me. He can take it in payment for board." 
 
266 JACS*S WARD; ojj, 
 
 Jack now directed his course as well as he could 
 towards his uncle's shop. One thing, however, he 
 did not forget, and that was to note carefully the 
 position of the shop in which he had been confined. 
 
 "I shall want to make another visit there," he 
 reflected. 
 
 Meantime, as may well be supposed, Abel Hard- 
 ing had suffered great anxiety on account of Jack's 
 protracted absence. Several days had elapsed and 
 still he was missing. He had been unable to find 
 the slightest trace of him. 
 
 "I am afraid something has happened to Jack," 
 he remarked to his wife on the afternoon of Jack's 
 escape. " I think Jack was probably rash and im- 
 prudent, and I fear, poor boy, he may have come to 
 harm." 
 
 "He may be confined by the parties who have 
 taken his sister." 
 
 " It is possible that it is no worse. At all events 
 I don't think it right to keep it from Timothy any 
 longer. I've put off writing as long as I could, 
 hoping Jack would come back, but I don't feel as if 
 it would be right to hold it back any longer. I shall 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 267 
 
 write tins evening, and tell my brother to come right 
 on. It'll be a blow to him." 
 
 " Better wait till morning, Abel. Who knows but 
 we may hear from Jack before that time." 
 
 The baker shook his head. 
 
 "If we'd been going to hear we'd have heard 
 before this," he said. 
 
 Just at that moment there was a hurried step 
 heard in the hall, and the door was flung open. 
 
 "Why, it's Jack!" exclaimed the baker, amazed. 
 
 "I should say it was," returned Jack, taking off 
 his hat. " Aunt, have you got anything to eat in the 
 house ? I'm 'most famished." 
 
 "Where in the name of wonder have you been, 
 Jack ? " asked his uncle. 
 
 "I've been shut up, uncle boarded and lodged 
 for nothing by some people who liked my company 
 better than I liked theirs. But I've just made my 
 escape, and here I am, well, hearty and hungry." 
 
 Jack's appetite was soon provided for. He found 
 time between the mouthfuls to describe the secret 
 staircase, and his discovery of the unlawful occupa- 
 tion of the man who acted as his gaoler. 
 
268 JACX?S WARD; o*, 
 
 The baker listened with eager interest. 
 
 " Jack," said he, "you've done a good stroke of 
 business." 
 
 " In getting away ? " said Jack. 
 
 "No, in ferreting out these counterfeiters. Do you 
 know there is a reward of a thousand dollars offered 
 for their apprehension ? " 
 
 "You don't say so!" exclaimed Jack, laying 
 down his knife and fork. " Do you think I can get 
 it?" 
 
 "You'd better try The gang has managed mat- 
 ters so shrewdly that the authorities have been unable 
 to get any clue to their whereabouts. Can you go to 
 the house where you were confined ? " 
 
 " Yes : I took particular notice of its location." 
 
 "That's lucky. Now, if you take my advice, 
 you'll give information to the authorities before they 
 have time to get away." 
 
 " I'll do it ! " said Jack. " Come along, uncle." 
 
 And he sprang to his feet, and put on his hat. 
 
 4 ' Have you satisfied your appetite ? " asked his 
 aunt. 
 
 "I could eat more," said Jack, "but 'business 
 
THE OT GUARDIAN. 269 
 
 before pleasure.' That's my motto. I'm after that 
 reward." 
 
 " You're right, Jack. There's no time to be lost. 
 I'll go along with you." 
 
 Fifteen minutes later, Jack was imparting his in- 
 formation to the Chief of Police. It was received 
 with visible interest and excitement. 
 
 " I will detail a squad of men to go with you," said 
 the chief. " Go at once. No time is to be lost." 
 
 In less than an hour from the time Jack left the 
 haunt of the coiners, an authoritative knock was 
 heard at the door. 
 
 It was answered by Foley. 
 
 The old man turned pale as he set eyes on Jack 
 and the police, and comprehended the object of the 
 visit. 
 
 " What do you want, gentleman ? " he asked in 
 tremulous accents. 
 
 " Is that the man?" asked the sergeant of Jack. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Secure him." 
 
 "I know him," said Foley, with a glance of hatred 
 directed at Jack. " He's a thief. He's been in my 
 
270 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 employ, but he's run away with fifty dollars belonging 
 to me." 
 
 " I don't care about stealing the kind of money 
 you deal in," said Jack, coolly. " It's all a lie this 
 man tells you." 
 
 " Why do you arrest me? " said Foley. " It's an 
 outrage. I'm a peaceable, inoffensive citizen. TLOU 
 have no right to enter my house like this." 
 
 "What is your business?" demanded the police 
 sergeant. 
 
 Foley hesitated. 
 
 "I'm a physician," he answered after a pause. 
 
 " If you are telling the truth, no harm will be 
 done you. Meanwhile, we must search your house. 
 Where is that secret staircase ? " 
 
 " I'll show you," answered Jack. 
 
 He showed the way upstairs to the room where he 
 had been confined. 
 
 "How did you get out?" he asked Foley, as he 
 touched the spring, and the secret door flew open. 
 
 " Curse you ! " exclaimed Foley, darting a look of 
 hatred and malignity at him. " I wish I had you m 
 my power once more. I treated you too well." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 271 
 
 "You said I was smart," said Jack. " I wanted 
 to deserve your good opinion." 
 
 We need not follow the police in their search. 
 The discoveries which they made were ample to 
 secure the conviction of the gang who made this 
 house the place of their operations. To anticipate 
 a little, we may say that Foley was sentenced to 
 imprisonment for a term of years, and his subordi- 
 nates to a term less prolonged. The reader will 
 also be glad to know that to our hero was awarded the 
 prize of a thousand dollars which had been offered 
 for the apprehension of this gang of counterfeiters, 
 and that it was accompanied by a well-merited com- 
 pliment to his courage and daring. 
 
 But there was another notable capture made that 
 day. 
 
 Mrs. Hardwick was accustomed to make periodi- 
 cal visits to Foley to secure fresh supplies of the 
 false bills, and to make settlement for what she had 
 succeeded in passing off. 
 
 While Jack and the officers were in the house she 
 rang the door-bell. 
 
 Jack went to the door. 
 
272 JACK'S WARD; as, 
 
 Peg uttered an exclamation of surprise when she 
 saw him. 
 
 " How is this?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh," said Jack, " it's all right. Come in. I've 
 gone into the business too." 
 
 Crafty as she was, Peg was taken in. 
 
 " Where's Foley ?" she asked. 
 
 "Right inside. Come in." 
 
 Mrs. Hardwick entered. No sooner was she 
 inside than Jack closed the door. 
 
 "What are you doing?" she demanded, suspic- 
 iously. " Let me out." 
 
 But Jack was standing with his back to the door. 
 The door to the right opened, and a policeman 
 appeared. 
 
 " Arrest this woman," said Jack. " She's one of 
 them." 
 
 "Unhand me!" said Peg, haughtily. "What 
 right have you to detain me?" 
 
 "We'll let you know in court," said the officer. 
 " Foley's taken, and you may as well yield without 
 any fuss.' 
 
 " I suppose I must yield," said Peg, sulkily ; " but 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN". 273 
 
 you sha'n't be a gainer by it," she continued, ad 
 dressing Jack. 
 
 "Where is Ida?" asked our hero, anxiously. 
 
 " She is safe," said Peg, sententiously. 
 
 " You won't tell me where she is?" 
 
 " No : why should I ? I suppose I am indebted to 
 you for this arrest. She shall be kept out of your 
 way as long as I have power to do so." 
 
 Jack's countenance fell. 
 
 " At least you will tell me whether she's well?" he 
 said. 
 
 " I shall answer no questions whatever/' said Mrs. 
 Hardwick. 
 
 "Then I shall find her," said Jack. "She is 
 somewhere in the city, and I'll find her sooner or 
 later." 
 
 Peg was not one to betray her feelings, but this 
 arrest was a great disappointment to her. It in- 
 terfered with a plan she had of making a large sum 
 out of Ida. To understand what this was, we must 
 go back a day or two, and introduce a new char- 
 acter. 
 
 It 
 
274 JACK'S WARD; 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MB. JOHN SOMERVILLE. 
 
 JACK'S appearance on the scene had set Mrs. 
 Hardwick to thinking. This was the substance of 
 her reflections. Ida, whom she had kidnapped for 
 certain reasons of her own, was likely to prove an 
 incumbrance rather than a source of profit. The 
 child, her suspicions awakened in regard to the 
 character of the money she had been employed to 
 pass off, was no longer available for that purpose. 
 So firmly resolved was she not to do what was wrong,, 
 that threats and persuasions were alike unavailing. 
 Besides there was the danger of her encountering 
 some one sent in search of her by her friends in 
 New York. 
 
 Under these circumstances Peg bethought herself 
 of the ultimate object which she had proposed to 
 herself in kidnapping Ida that of extorting money 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 275 
 
 from a man who has not hitherto figured in our 
 story, but must now be introduced to the reader. 
 
 John Somerville occupied a suite of apartments in 
 a handsome lodging-house in Walnut Street. A man 
 wanting yet several years of forty, he looked as 
 many years older than that age. Late hours and 
 dissipated habits, though kept within respectable 
 limits, left their traces on his face. At twenty-one 
 he inherited a considerable fortune, which, combined 
 with some professional income (for he was a lawyer, 
 and not without ability), was quite sufficient to 
 support him handsomely, and leave a considerable 
 surplus every year. But latterly he had contracted a 
 passion for gaming, and, shrewd though he might be 
 naturally, he could hardly be expected to prove a 
 match for the wily habitues of the gaming-table, 
 who had marked him for their prey. 
 
 The evening before his introduction to the reader 
 he had passed till a late hour at a fashionable 
 gaming-house where he had lost heavily. 
 
 His reflections on waking were not the most pleas- 
 ant. For the first time within fifteen years he 
 realized the folly and imprudence of the course h 
 
276 JACK'S WARD; ou, 
 
 had pursued. The evening previous he had lost a 
 thousand dollars, for which he had given his I O U. 
 Where to raise the money he did not know. He 
 bathed his aching head, and cursed his ill luck in no 
 measured terms. After making his toilet, he rang 
 the bell, and ordered breakfast. 
 
 For this he had but scanty appetite. He drank a 
 cup of coffee, and ate part of a roll, and then was 
 obliged to desist. Scarcely had he finished, and 
 directed the removal of the dishes, than the servant 
 entered to announce a visitor. 
 
 " Is it a gentleman? " he inquired hastily, fearing 
 that it might be a creditor. He occasionally had 
 such visitors. 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "A lady?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " A child ? But what could a child want of me ? " 
 he demanded. 
 
 "No, sir. It isn't a child," said the servant ID 
 reply. 
 
 " Then if if s neither a gentleman, lady nor child," 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 277 
 
 said Somerville, " will you have the goodness to in- 
 form me what sort of a being it is." 
 
 "It's a woman, sir," answered the servant, his 
 gravity unmoved. 
 
 "Why didn't you say so when I asked you?" 
 said his employer, irritably. 
 
 "Because you asked me if it was a lady, and this 
 i sn t leastways she don't look like one." 
 
 " You can send her up, whoever she is," said Som 
 erville. 
 
 A moment afterwards, Peg entered his presence. 
 
 John Somerville looked at her without much inter- 
 est, supposing that she might be a seamstress, or 
 laundress, or some applicant for charity. So many 
 years had passed since he had met with this woman, 
 that she had passed out of his remembrance. 
 
 "Do you wish to see me about anything?" he 
 asked, indifferently. " If so, you must be quick, for 
 I am just going out." 
 
 "You don't seem to recognize me, Mr. Somer- 
 ville," said Mrs. Hardwick, fixing her keen black 
 eyes upon his face. 
 
278 JACtfs WARD; OR, 
 
 " I can't say I do," he replied, carelessly. " Per- 
 haps you used to wash for me once." 
 
 " I am not in the habit of acting as laundress," 
 said the woman, proudly. 
 
 It is worth noticing that she was not above passing 
 spurious bills, and doing other things which are 
 stamped as disreputable by the laws of the land, but 
 her pride revolted at the imputation that she was a 
 washerwoman. Human pride is a curious thing, and 
 people are often ashamed of what is least discredit- 
 able. 
 
 " In that case," said Somerville, languidly, " you 
 will have to tell me who you are, for it is quite out 
 of my power to remember all the people I meet." 
 
 "Perhaps the name of Ida will assist your recol- 
 lection ; or have you forgotten that name, too ? " said 
 the woman, composedly. 
 
 "Ida!" repeated John Somerville, throwing off 
 his indifferent manner, and surveying the woman's 
 features attentively. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I have known several persons of that name," he 
 said, recovering his former indifferent manner. " I 
 
THE JBOT GUARDIAN. 279 
 
 haven't the slightest idea to which of them you refer. 
 You don't look as if it was your name," he added 
 with a laugh. 
 
 The woman took no notice of the reference to her- 
 self. 
 
 "The Ida I mean was and is a child," she said. 
 " But there's no use in beating about the bush, Mr. 
 Somerville, when I can come straight to the point. 
 It is now about seven years since my husband and 
 myself were employed to carry off a child a female 
 child of a year old named Ida. You were the man 
 who employed us." She said this deliberately, look- 
 ing steadily in his face. " We placed it, according to 
 your directions, on the doorstep of a poor family in 
 New York, and they have since cared for it as their 
 own. I suppose you have not forgotten that ? " 
 
 John Somerville deliberated. Should he defy this 
 woman, and challenge her to the proof? It would 
 not do. He decided to admit the fact, and draw 
 from her the object of her visit. 
 
 "I remember it," he said, " and now recall your 
 features. How have you fared since I employed 
 you ? Have you found your business profitable ? " 
 
280 JACS WARD; GJJ, 
 
 "Far from it," answered Peg. "I am not yet 
 able to retire on a competence." 
 
 " One of your youthful appearance," said Somer- 
 ville, banteringly, " ought not to think of retiring 
 under ten years." 
 
 Peg smiled. She knew how to appreciate this 
 speech. She was not vain of her personal appear- 
 ance. 
 
 "I don't care for compliments," she said, "even 
 when they are sincere. As for my youthful appear- 
 ance, I am old enough to have reached the age of 
 discretion, and not so old as to have fallen into my 
 second childhood." 
 
 "Compliments aside, then, will you proceed to 
 whatever business brought you here ? " 
 
 " I want a thousand dollars," said Peg, abruptly. 
 
 "A thousand dollars!" repeated Somerville. 
 "Very likely. I should like that amount myself. 
 Did you come here to tell me that?" 
 
 "I have come here to ask you to give me that 
 amount," said Mrs. Hardwick. 
 
 "Have you a husband?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 281 
 
 "Then let me suggest that your husband is the 
 proper person to apply to in such a case." 
 
 " I think I am more likely to get it out of you," 
 said Peg, coolly. " My husband couldn't supply me 
 with a thousand cents, even if he were willing, which 
 is not likely." 
 
 "Much as I am flattered by your application," 
 said Somerville with a polite sneer, " since it would 
 seem to place me next in estimation to your husband, 
 I cannot help suggesting that it is not usual to 
 bestow such a sum on a stranger, or even a friend, 
 without an equivalent rendered." 
 
 " I am ready to give you an equivalent." 
 
 " Of what nature?" 
 
 " I am willing to be silent." 
 
 " And how can your silence benefit me? " 
 
 John Somerville asked this question with an as- 
 sumption of indifference, but his fingers twitched 
 nervously, as the woman, smiling to herself, re- 
 marked, 
 
 " That you will be best able to estimate." 
 
 "Explain yourself, and bear in mind that I can 
 oestow little time on you." 
 
282 JActfs WARD; GJZ, 
 
 " I can do that in a few words. You employed me 
 to kidnap a child. I believe the law has something 
 to say about that. At any rate the child's mother 
 may have." 
 
 4 'What do you know about the child's mother?" 
 demanded Somerville, hastily. 
 
 ' ' All about her ! " said Peg, emphatically. 
 
 " How am I to credit that? It is easy to claim a 
 knowledge you do not possess." 
 
 " Shall I tell you the whole story, then? In the 
 first place, she married your cousin, after rejecting 
 you. You never forgave her for this. When, a year 
 after marriage, her husband died, you renewed your 
 proposals. They were rejected, and you were forbid- 
 den to renew the subject on pain of forfeiting her 
 friendship forever. You left her presence, deter- 
 mined to be revenged. With this object you sought 
 Dick and myself, and employed us to kidnap the 
 child. There is the whole story, briefly told." 
 
 John Somerville listened with compressed lips and 
 pale face. 
 
 " Woman, how came this within your knowledge ?* 
 he demanded, hoarsely. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 283 
 
 " That is of no consequence," said Peg. " It was 
 for my interest to find out, and I did so." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I know one thing more the residence of the 
 child's mother. I hesitated this morning whether to 
 come here, or to carry Ida to her mother, trusting to 
 her to repay from gratitude what I demand from 
 you because it is for your interest to comply with my 
 request." 
 
 "You speak of carrying the child to her mother. 
 How can you do that when she is in New York ? " 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Peg, coolly. " She is 
 in Philadelphia." 
 
 "With you?" 
 
 "With me." 
 
 " How long has this been?" 
 
 " Nearly a fortnight." 
 
 John Somerville paced the room with hurried steps. 
 Peg watched him carelessly. She felt that she had 
 succeeded. 
 
 He paused after a while, and stood before her. 
 
 " You demand a thousand dollars," he said. 
 
 " I do." 
 
284 JActfs WARD; GJZ, 
 
 "I have not that amount with me. I have re- 
 cently lost a heavy sum, no matter how. But I can 
 probably get it to-day. Call to-morrow at this 
 time, no, in the afternoon, and I will see what I can 
 do for you." 
 
 " Very well," said the woman, well satisfied. 
 
 Left to himself, John Somerville spent some time 
 in reflection. Difficulties encompassed him diffi- 
 culties from which he found it hard to find a way of 
 escape. He knew how difficult it would be to meet 
 this woman's demand. Something must be done. 
 Gradually his countenance lightened. He had de- 
 cided what that something should be. 
 
 When Peg left John Somerville's apartments, it was 
 with a high degree of satisfaction at the result of the 
 interview. All had turned out as she wished. She 
 looked upon the thousand dollars as already hers. 
 The considerations which she had urged would, she 
 was sure, induce him to make every effort to secure 
 her silence. 
 
 Then, with a thousand dollars, what might not 
 be done? She would withdraw from the busi- 
 ness, for one thing. It was too hazardous. Why 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 285 
 
 might not Dick and she retire to the country, lease a 
 countiy inn, and live an honest life hereafter? 
 There were times when she grew tired of the life she 
 lived at present. It would be pleasant to go to some 
 place where they were not known, and enrol them- 
 selves among the respectable members of the commu- 
 nity. She was growing old ; she wanted rest and a 
 quiet home. Her early years had been passed in the 
 country. She remembered still the green fields in 
 which she played as a child, and to this woman, old 
 and sin-stained, there came a yearning to have that 
 life return. 
 
 But her dream was rudely broken by her encoun- 
 ter with the officers of the law at the house of her 
 employer. 
 
286 JActfa WARD; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " THE FLOWER-GIKL." 
 
 " BY gracious, if that isn't Ida ! " exclaimed Jack, 
 in profound surprise. 
 
 He had been sauntering along Chestnut Street, 
 listlessly, troubled by the thought that though he 
 had given Mrs Hardwick into custody, he was ap- 
 parently no nearer the discovery of his young ward 
 than before. What steps should he take to find 
 her? He could not decide. In his perplexity his 
 eyes rested suddenly upon the print of the " Flower- 
 girl." 
 
 "Yes," he said, coming to a stop, "that is Ida 
 fast enough. Perhaps they will know in the store 
 where she is to be found." 
 
 He at once entered the store. 
 
 44 Can you tell me anything about the girl in that 
 picture ? " he asked abruptly of the nearest clerk. 
 
 The clerk smiled. 
 
THB EOT GUARDIAN. 287 
 
 "It is a fancy picture," he said. "I think you 
 would need a long time to find the original." 
 
 " It has taken a long time," said Jack. "But you 
 are mistaken. That is a picture of my sister." 
 
 "Of your sister!" repeated the salesman with 
 surprise, half incredulous. 
 
 There was reason for his incredulity. Jack was & 
 stout, good-looking boy, with a pleasant face ; but 
 Ida's beauty was of a delicate, refined type, which 
 argued gentle birth ; her skin of a brilliant whiteness r 
 dashed by a tinge of rose, exhibiting a physical 
 perfection which it requires several generations of 
 refined habits and exemption from the coarser bur* 
 dens of life to produce. 
 
 " Yes," persisted Jack. " She is my sister." 
 
 " If it is your sister," said the clerk, "you ought 
 to know where she is." 
 
 Jack was about to reply, when the attention of 
 both was called by a surprised exclamation from a 
 lady who had paused beside them. Her eyes also 
 were fixed upon the " Flower-girl." 
 
 "Who is this?" she asked invisible excitement. 
 "Is it taken from life?" 
 
288 JACK'S WARD; OR, 
 
 " This young man says it is his sister," said the 
 clerk. 
 
 "Your sister?" repeated the lady, her eyes fixed 
 inquiringly upon Jack. 
 
 In her tone there was a mingling both of surprise 
 and disappointment. 
 
 " Yes, madam," answered Jack, respectfully. 
 
 " Pardon me," she said, " there is very little per- 
 sonal resemblance. I should not have suspected that 
 you were her brother." 
 
 " She is not my own sister," explained Jack, " but 
 I love her just the same." 
 
 " Do you live in Philadelphia? Could I see her?" 
 asked the lady, eagerly. 
 
 " I live in New York, madam," said Jack; "but 
 Ida was stolen from us about three weeks since, and 
 I have come here in pursuit of her. I have not been 
 able to find her yet." 
 
 "Did you call her Ida?" demanded the lady in 
 strange agitation. 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " My young friend," said the woman rapidly, " 1 
 have been much interested in the story of your sister. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 289 
 
 I should like to hear more, but not here. Would you 
 have any objection to coming home with me, and 
 telling me the rest ? Then we will together concert 
 measures for recovering her.' 
 
 " You are very kind, madam," said Jack, bash- 
 fully ; for the lady was elegantly dressed, and it had 
 nearer been his fortune to converse with a lady of her 
 social position. " I shall be glad to go home with 
 you, and shall be very much obliged for your advice 
 and assistance." 
 
 " Then we will drive home at once." 
 
 Jack followed her to the street where he saw an 
 elegant carriage, and a coachman in livery. 
 
 With natural gallantry Jack assisted the lady into 
 the carriage, and, at her bidding, got in himself. 
 
 " Home, Thomas ! " she directed the driver ; " and 
 drive as fast as possible." 
 
 "Yes, madam." 
 
 "How old was you sister when your parents 
 adopted her?" asked Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 Jack afterwards ascertained that this was her 
 name. 
 
 " About a year oM, madam." 
 19 
 
290 JAC^S WARD; OB, 
 
 44 And how long since was that?" asked the lady, 
 waiting for the answer with breathless interest. 
 
 "Seven years since. She is now eight." 
 
 " It must be," murmured the lady in low tones. 
 " If it is indeed as I hope, my life will indeed be 
 blessed." 
 
 u Did you speak, madam?" 
 
 " Tell me under what circumstances your family 
 adopted her." 
 
 Jack related briefly how Ida had been left at their 
 door in her infancy. 
 
 "And do you recollect the month in which this 
 happened ? " 
 
 " It was at the close of December, the night before 
 New Year's." 
 
 " It is, it must be she ! " ejaculated Mrs. Clifton, 
 clasping her hands, while tears of joy welled from her 
 eyes. 
 
 "I I don't understand," said Jack, naturally as- 
 tonished. 
 
 " My young friend," said the lady, " our meeting 
 this morning seems providential. I have every 
 reason to believe that this child your adopted sis- 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 291 
 
 ter is my daughter, stolen from me by an unknown 
 enemy at the time of which I speak. From that day 
 to this I have never been able to obtain the slightest 
 clue that might lead to her discovery. I have long 
 taught myself to think of her as dead." 
 
 It was Jack's turn to be surprised. He looked at 
 the lady beside him. She was barely thirty. The 
 beauty of her girlhood had ripened into the maturer 
 beauty of womanhood. There was the same dazzling 
 complexion, the same soft flush upon the cheeks. 
 The eyes, too, were wonderfully like Ida's. Jack 
 looked, and as he looked he became convinced. 
 
 "You must be right," he said. "Ida is very 
 much like you." 
 
 " You think so?" said Mrs. Clifton, eagerly. 
 
 11 Yes, madam." 
 
 "I had a picture a daguerreotype taken of 
 Ida just before I lost her ; I have treasured it care- 
 fully. I must show it to you when we get to my 
 house." 
 
 The carriage stopped before a stately mansion in a 
 wide and quiet street. The driver dismounted and 
 
292 JACK'S WARD; ojz, 
 
 opened the door. Jack assisted Mrs. Clifton to 
 alight. 
 
 Bashfully our hero followed the lady up the steps, 
 and. at her bidding, seated himself in an elegant 
 parlor furnished with a splendor which excited his 
 admiration and wonder. He had little time to look 
 about him, for Mrs. Clifton, without pausing to 
 remove her street attire, hastened downstairs with 
 an open daguerrotype in her hand. 
 
 4 ' Can you remember Ida when she was first 
 brought to your house?" she asked. " Did she look 
 anything like this picture ? " 
 
 "It is her image," answered Jack, decidedly. 
 " I should know it anywhere." 
 
 " Then there can be no further doubt," said Mrs. 
 Clifton. " It is my child you have cared for so long. 
 Oh, why could I not have known it before? How 
 many lonely days and sleepless nights it would have 
 spared me ! But God be thanked for this late 
 blessing ! I shall see my child again." 
 
 " I hope so, madam. We must find her." 
 
 " What is your name, my young friend? " 
 
 " My name is Harding Jack Harding." 
 
JACK RECOGNIZES THE PICTURE. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 293 
 
 "Jack?" repeated the lady, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, madam; that is what they call me. It 
 would not seem natural to be called John." 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Clifton, with a smile which 
 went to Jack's heart at once, and made him think 
 ner, if anything, more beautiful than Ida; "as Ida 
 is your adopted sister " 
 
 "I call her my ward. I am her guardian, you 
 know." 
 
 "You are a young guardian. But, as I was about 
 to say, that makes us connected in some way, doesn't 
 it? I won't call you Mr. Harding, for that would 
 Bound too formal. I will call you Jack." 
 
 "I wish you would," said our hero, his face 
 brightening with pride. 
 
 It almost upset him to be called Jack by a beauti- 
 *ul lady, who every day of her life was accustomed to 
 live in a splendor which it seemed to Jack could not 
 t>e exceeded even by royal state. Had Mrs. Clifton 
 Ven Queen Victoria herself, he could not have felt a 
 ^rofoundcr respect and veneration for her than he 
 did already. 
 
 "Now, Jack," said Mrs. Clifton in a friendly 
 
294 JACK'S WARD; <MZ, 
 
 manner waich delighted our hero, "we must take 
 measures to discover Ida immediately. I want you to 
 tell me about her disappearance from your house, 
 and what steps you have taken thus far towards 
 finding her." 
 
 Jack began at the beginning, and described the 
 appearance of Mrs. Hard wick ; how she had been 
 permitted to carry Ida away under false representa- 
 tions, and the manner in which he had tracked her 
 to Philadelphia. He spoke finally of her arrest, and 
 her obstinate refusal to impart any information as to 
 where Ida was concealed. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton listened attentively and anxiously. 
 There were more difficulties in the way than she had 
 supposed. 
 
 4 'Can you think of any plan, Jack?" she asked, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Yes, madam," answered Jack. "The man who 
 painted the picture of Ida may know where she is to 
 be found." 
 
 " You are right," said the lady. * % I will act upon 
 your hint. I will order the carriage again instantly, 
 and we will at once go back to the print-store." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 295 
 
 An hour later Henry Bowen was surprised by the 
 visit of an elegant lady to his studio, accompanied 
 by a young man of seventeen. 
 
 "I think you are the artist who designed 'The 
 Flower-girl'?" said Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 " I am, madam." 
 
 " It was taken from life?" 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 U I am anxious to find the little girl whose face 
 you copied. Can you give me any directions that 
 will enable me to find her?" 
 
 " I will accompany you to the place where she 
 lives, if you desire it, madam," said the young artist, 
 politely. " It is a strange neighborhood in which to 
 look for so much beauty." 
 
 " I shall be deeply indebted to you if you will 
 oblige me so far," said Mrs. Clifton. " M}>- carriage 
 is below, and my coachman will obey your orders." 
 
 Once more they were on the move. In due time 
 the carriage paused. The driver opened the door. 
 He was evidently quite scandalized at the idea of 
 bringing his mistress to such a place. 
 
 " This can't be the place, madam," lie said. 
 
296 JACK'S WARD; ox, 
 
 "Yes," said the artist. " Do not get out, Mrs. 
 Clifton. I will go in, and find out all that is need- 
 ful." 
 
 Two minutes later he returned, looking disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 " We are too late," he said. " An hour since a 
 gentleman called, and took away the child." 
 
 Mrs. Clifton sank back in her seat in keen dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 " My child, my child ! " she murmured. " Shall I 
 ever see thee again?" 
 
 Jack, too, felt more disappointed than he was 
 willing to acknowledge. He could not conjecture 
 what gentleman could have carried away Ida. The 
 affair seemed darker and more complicated than 
 ever. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 IDA IS FOUND. 
 
 IDA wjs sitting alone in the dreary apartment which 
 she was no^- obliged to call home. Peg had gone out, 
 and, not feeling quite certain of her prey, had bolted 
 the door on the outside. She had left some work for 
 the child some handkerchiefs to hem for Dick 
 with strict orders to keep steadily at work. 
 
 While seated at work, she was aroused from 
 thoughts of home by a knock at the door. 
 
 "Who's there?" asked Ida. 
 
 " A friend," was the reply. 
 
 " Mrs. Hard wick Peg isn't at home," returned 
 Ida. " I don't know when she will return." 
 
 "Then I will come in and wait till she comes 
 back," answered the voice outside. 
 
 "I can't open the door," said the child. "It's 
 fastened outside." 
 
298 JActfs WARD; ojf, 
 
 "Yes, so I see. Then I will take the liberty to 
 draw the bolt." 
 
 Mr. John Somerville opened the door, and for the 
 first time in seven years his glance fell upon the child 
 whom for so long a time he had defrauded of a 
 mother's care and tenderness. 
 
 Ida returned to the window. 
 
 " How beautiful she is ! " thought Somerville, with 
 surprise. She inherits all her mother's rare beauty." 
 
 On the table beside Ida was a drawing. "Whose 
 is this?" he inquired." 
 
 " Mine," answered Ida. 
 
 " So you have learned to draw? " 
 
 "A little," answered the child, modestly. 
 
 "Who taught you? Not the woman you live 
 with?" 
 
 " No," said Ida. 
 
 " You have not always lived with her, I am sure? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "You lived in New York with a family named 
 Harding, did you not? " 
 
 "Do you know father and mother?" asked Ida 
 with sudden hope. " Did they send you for me ? " 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 299 
 
 " I will tell you that by and by, my child, but I 
 want to ask you a few questions first. Why does this 
 woman, Peg, lock you in whenever she goes away ? " 
 
 " I suppose," said Ida, " she is afraid I'll run 
 away." 
 
 "Then she knows you don't want to live with 
 her?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, she knows that," said the child, frankly. 
 "I have asked her to take me home, but she says 
 she won't for a year." 
 
 " And how long have you been with her? " 
 
 "About three weeks, but it seems a great deal 
 longer," answered Ida, with a sigh. 
 
 " What does she make you do? " 
 
 " I can't tell what she made me do first. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because she would be very angry." 
 
 " Suppose I should promise to deliver you from 
 her, would you be willing to go with me ? " 
 
 " And you would carry me back to my father and 
 mother?" asked Ida, eagerly. 
 
 " Certainly, I would restore you to your mother," 
 was the evasive reply. 
 
300 JACX?S WARD; on, 
 
 " Then I -will go with you." 
 
 Ida ran quickly to get her bonnet and shawl. 
 
 " We had better go at once," said Somerville. 
 44 Peg might return, you know, and then there would 
 be trouble." 
 
 " Oh, yes, let us go quickly," said Ida, turning 
 pale at the remembered threats of Peg. 
 
 Neither knew as yet that Peg could not return if 
 she would; that, at this very moment, she was in 
 legal custody on a charge of a serious nature. Still 
 less did Ida know that in going she was losing the 
 chance of seeing Jack and her real mother, of whose 
 existence, even, she was not yet aware ; and that thisr 
 man, whom she looked upon as her friend, was in 
 reality her worst enemy. 
 
 " I will conduct you to my own rooms, in the first 
 place," said her companion. "You must remain in 
 concealment for a day or two, as Peg will undoubt- 
 edly be on the look-out for you, and we want to- 
 avoid all trouble." 
 
 Ida was delighted with her escape, and with the 
 thoughts of soon seeing her friends in New York. She 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 801 
 
 put implicit faith in her guide, and was willing to 
 submit to any conditions which he saw fit to impose. 
 
 On emerging into the street, her companion sum- 
 moned a cab. He had reasons for avoiding public 
 notice. 
 
 At length they reached his lodgings. 
 
 They were furnished more richly than any room 
 Ida had yet seen ; and formed, indeed, a luxurious 
 contrast to the dark and scantily furnished apart- 
 ment which she had occupied since her arrival in 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 "Well, you are glad to get away from Peg?" 
 asked John Somerville, giving Ida a comfortable seat* 
 
 "Oh, so glad! "said Ida. 
 
 " And you wouldn't care about going back?" 
 
 The child shuddered. 
 
 "I suppose," she said, "Peg will be very angry* 
 She would beat me, if she got me back again." 
 
 "But she sha'n't. I will take good care of that." 
 
 Ida looked her gratitude. Her heart went out to 
 those who appeared to deal kindly with her, and she 
 felt very grateful to her companion for delivering 
 her from Peg. 
 
302 JACK'S WARD; GJZ, 
 
 "Now," said Somerville, "perhaps you will be 
 willing to tell me what it was Peg required you to 
 do." 
 
 " Yes," said Ida ; " but she must never know that 
 I told." 
 
 " I promise not to tell her." 
 
 "It was to pass bad money." 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed her companion, quickly. 
 "What sort of bad money?" 
 
 " It was bad bills." 
 
 " Did she do much in that way?" 
 
 " A good deal. She goes out every day to buy 
 things with the money." 
 
 "I am glad to learn this," said John Somerville, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Why?" asked Ida, curiously, " are you glad she 
 is wicked?" 
 
 "I am glad, because she won't dare to come for 
 you, knowing I can have her put in prison." 
 
 "Then I am glad, too." 
 
 "Ida," said her companion, after a pause, " I am 
 obliged to go out for a short time. You will find 
 books on the table, and can amuse yourself by 
 
THE JBOT GUARDIAN. 303 
 
 reading. I won't make you sew, as Peg did," he 
 added, smiling. 
 
 Ida laughed. 
 
 " I like to read," she said. " I shall enjoy myself 
 very well." 
 
 " If you get tired of reading, you can draw. You 
 will find plenty of paper on my desk." 
 
 Mr. Somerville went out, and Ida, as he had 
 recommended, read for a time. Then, growing tired, 
 she went to the window and looked out. A carriage 
 was passing up the street slowly, on account of a 
 press of other carriages. Ida saw a face that she 
 knew. Forgetting her bonnet in her sudden joy, she 
 ran down the stairs into the street, and up to the 
 carriage- window . 
 
 " O Jack ! " she exclaimed ; " have you come for 
 me?" 
 
 It was Mrs. Clifton's carriage, just returning from 
 Peg's lodgings. 
 
 " Why, it's Ida ! " exclaimed Jack, almost spring- 
 ing through the window of the carriage in his 
 excitement. " Where did you come from, and where 
 have you been all this time ? " 
 
304 JACK 9 s WARD; GJJ, 
 
 He opened the door of the carriage, and drew Ida 
 in. 
 
 " My child, my child ! Thank God, you are 
 restored to me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 She drew the astonished child to her bosom. Ida 
 looked up into her face in bewilderment. Was it 
 Nature that prompted her to return the lady's 
 embrace ? 
 
 " My God, I thank thee ! " murmured Mrs. Clifton, 
 " for this, my child, was lost, and is found." 
 
 " Ida," said Jack, u this lady is your mother." 
 
 " My mother ! " repeated the astonished child. 
 "Have I got two mothers?" 
 
 " This is your real mother. You were brought to 
 our house when you were an infant, and we have 
 always taken care of you ; but this lady is your real 
 mother." 
 
 Ida hardly knew whether to feel glad or sorry. 
 
 " And you are not my brother, Jack? " 
 
 " No, I am your guardian," said Jack, smiling. 
 
 " You shall still consider him your brother, Ida," 
 said Mrs. Clifton. " Heaven forbid that I should 
 seek to wean your heart from the Mends who have 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 305 
 
 cared so kindly for you I You may keep all your 
 old friends, and love them as dearly as ever. You 
 will only have one friend the more." 
 
 " Where are we going? " asked Ida, suddenly. 
 
 " We are going home." 
 
 " What will the gentleman say? " 
 
 "What gentleman?" 
 
 " The one that took me away from Peg's. Why, 
 there he is now ! " 
 
 Mrs. Clifton followed the direction of Ida's finger, 
 as she pointed to a gentleman passing. 
 
 " Is he the one?" asked Mrs. Clifton, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, mamma," answered Ida, shyly. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton pressed Ida to her bosom. It was 
 the first time she had ever been called mamma, for 
 when Ida had been taken from her she was too 
 young to speak. The sudden thrill which this name 
 excited made her realize the full measure of her 
 present happiness. 
 
 Arrived at the house, Jack's bashfulness returned. 
 Even Ida's presence did not remove it. He hung 
 back, and hesitated about going in. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton observed this. 
 20 
 
306 JACtfs WARD; on, 
 
 " Jack," she said, " this house is to be your home 
 while you are in Philadelphia. Come in, and Thomas 
 shall go for your luggage." 
 
 "Perhaps I had better go with him," said Jaok. 
 " Uncle Abel will be glad to know that Ida is found." 
 
 " Very well ; only return soon. As you are Ida's 
 guardian," she added, smiling, " you will need to 
 'vatch over her." 
 
 " Well ! " thought Jack, as he re-entered the elegant 
 .arriage, and gave the proper direction to the coach- 
 man, " won't Uncle Abel be a little surprised when 
 he sees me coming home in this style ! Mrs. Clifton's 
 a trump ! Maybe that aint exactly the word, but 
 Ida's in luck anyhow." 
 
THE LOT GUARDIAN. 307 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND. 
 
 MEANWHILE Peg was passing her time wearily 
 enough in prison. It was certainly provoking to be 
 deprived of her freedom just when she was likely to 
 make it most profitable. After some reflection she 
 determined to send for Mrs. Clifton, and reveal to her 
 all she knew, trusting to her generosity for a recom- 
 pense. 
 
 To one of the officers of the prison she communi- 
 cated the intelligence that she had an important reve- 
 lation to make to Mrs. Clifton, absolutely refusing to 
 make it unless the lady would visit her in prison. 
 
 Scarcely had Mrs. Clifton returned home after re- 
 covering her child, than the bell rang, and a stranger 
 was introduced. 
 
 " Is this Mrs. Clifton? " he inquired. 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Then I have a message for you." 
 
808 JAC&S WARD; OR, 
 
 The lady looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 "Let me introduce myself, madam, as one of the 
 officers connected with the City Prison. A woman 
 was placed in confinement this morning, who says she 
 has a most important communication to make to you, 
 but declines to make it except to you in person." 
 
 " Can you bring her here, sir ? " 
 
 "That is impossible. We will give you every 
 facility, however, for visiting her in prison." 
 
 " It must be Peg," whispered Ida, " the woman 
 that carried me off." 
 
 Such a request Mrs. Clifton could not refuse. She 
 at once made ready to accompany the officer. She 
 resolved to carry Ida with her, fearful that, unless 
 she kept her in her immediate presence, she might 
 disappear again as before. 
 
 As Jack had not yet returned, a hack was sum- 
 moned, and they proceeded at once to the prison. 
 Ida shuddered as she passed within the gloomy portal 
 which shut out hope and the world from so many. 
 
 " This way, madam ! " 
 
 They followed the officer through a gloomy corn- 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 309 
 
 dor, until they came to the cell in which Peg was 
 confined. 
 
 Peg looked up in surprise when she saw Ida enter 
 with Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 "What brought you two together?" she asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " A blessed Providence," answered Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 " I saw Jack with her," said Ida, " and I ran out 
 into the street. I didn't expect to find my mother." 
 
 " There is not so much for me to tell, then," said 
 Peg. "I had made up my mind to restore you to 
 your mother. You see, Ida, I've moved," she con- 
 tinued, smiling grimly. " Tell your mother to sit 
 down on the bed. I'm sorry I haven't any rocking- 
 chair or sofa to offer you." 
 
 " O Peg," said Ida, her tender heart melted by 
 the woman's misfortunes, u how sorry I am to find 
 you here ! " 
 
 " Are you sorry ? " asked Peg, looking at her in curi- 
 ous surprise. " You haven't much cause to be. I've 
 beeE your worst enemy ; at any rate one of the worst." 
 
 " I can't help it," said the child, her face beaming 
 with a divine compassion. " It must be so sad to be 
 
310 jActfs WARD; OB, 
 
 shut up here, and not be able to go out into the 
 bright sunshine. I do pity you." 
 
 Peg's heart was not wholly hardened. Few are. 
 But it was long since it had been touched, as now, by 
 this warm-hearted pity on the part of one whom she 
 had injured. 
 
 " You're a good girl, Ida," she said, " and Fm 
 sorry I've injured you. I didn't think I should ever 
 ask forgiveness of anybody ; but I do ask your for- 
 giveness." 
 
 The child rose, and advancing towards her old 
 enemy, took her large hand in hers and said, " I for- 
 give you, Peg." 
 
 " From your heart? " 
 
 " With all my heart." 
 
 4 i Thank you, child. I feel better now. There 
 have been times when I have thought I should like to 
 lead a better life." 
 
 " It is not too late now, Peg." 
 
 Peg shook her head. 
 
 4 'Who will trust me when I come out of here?** 
 she said. 
 
 " I will," said Mrs. Clifton. 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 811 
 
 " You will? " repeated Peg, amazed. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " After all I have done to harm you ! But I am 
 not quite so bad as you may think. It was not my 
 plan to take Ida from you. I was poor, and money 
 tempted me." 
 
 *' Who could have had an interest in doing me this 
 cruel wrong ? " asked the mother. 
 
 44 One whom you know well, Mr. John Somer- 
 ville." 
 
 " Surely you are wrong ! " exclaimed Mrs. Clifton, 
 in unbounded astonishment. " That cannot be. 
 What object could he have? * 
 
 "Can you think of none?" queried Peg, looking 
 at her shrewdly. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton changed color. 
 
 " Perhaps so," she said. " Go on." 
 
 Peg told the whole story, so circumstantially that 
 there was no room for doubt. 
 
 " I did not believe him capable of such great wick- 
 edness," ejaculated Mrs. Clifton, with a pained and 
 indignant look. " It was a base, unmanly revenge to 
 take. How could you lend yourself to it ? " 
 
312 JACE?S WARD; OJB, 
 
 "How could I?" repeated Peg. "Madam, you 
 are rich. You have always had whatever wealth 
 could procure. How can such as you understand the 
 temptations of the poor? When want and hunger 
 stare us in the face we have not the strength that you 
 have in your luxurious homes." 
 
 " Pardon me," said Mrs. Clifton, touched by these 
 words, half bitter, half pathetic. " Let me, at any 
 rate, thank you for the service you have done me now. 
 When you are released from your confinement come 
 to me. If you wish to change your mode of life, and 
 live honestly henceforth, I will give you the chance." 
 
 " You will? Promise me that," said Peg, eagerly. 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 "After all the injury I have done you, you are 
 yet willing to trust me ? " 
 
 " Who am I that I should condemn you? Yes, I 
 will trust you, and forgive you." 
 
 " I never expected to hear such words," said Peg, 
 her heart softened, and her arid eyes moistened by 
 unwonted emotion ; " least of all from you. I should 
 like to ask one thing." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 313 
 
 "Will you let her come and see me sometimes?" 
 pointing to Ida as she spoke. " It will remind me 
 that this is not all a dream, these words which you 
 have spoken." 
 
 " She shall come," said Mrs. Clifton, " and I will 
 come too, sometimes." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 They left the prison behind them, and returned 
 home. 
 
 There was a visitor awaiting them. 
 
 " Mr. Somerville is in the drawing-room," said the 
 servant. " He said he would wait till you came in." 
 
 Mrs. Clifton's face flushed. 
 
 "I will go down and see him," she said. "Ida, 
 you will remain here." 
 
 She descended to the drawing-room, and met the 
 man who had injured her. He had come with 
 the resolve to stake his all upon one desperate cast. 
 His fortunes were desperate. But he had one hope 
 left. Through the mother's love for the daughter, 
 whom she had mourned so long, whom as he believed 
 he had it in his power to restore to her, he hoped to 
 
314 JACK'S WARD; oiz, 
 
 obtain her consent to a marriage which would retrieve 
 his fortunes, and gratify his ambition. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton entered the room, and seated herself 
 quietly. She bowed slightly, but did not, as usual,, 
 offer her hand. But, full of his own plans, Mr. Som- 
 erville took no note of this change in her manner. 
 
 "How long is it since Ida was lost?" inquired 
 Somerville, abruptly. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton heard this question in surprise. Why 
 was it that he had alluded to this subject? 
 
 " Seven years," she answered. 
 
 " And you believe she yet lives? " 
 
 " Yes, I am certain of it." 
 
 John Somerville did not understand her. He- 
 thought it was only because a mother is reluctant 
 to give up hope. 
 
 " It is a long time," he said. 
 
 " It is a long time to suffer," said Mrs. Clifton r 
 with deep meaning. " How could any one have the 
 heart to work me this great injury ? For seven years 
 I have led a sad and solitary life seven years that 
 might have been gladdened and cheered by my 
 darling's presence \ n 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 315 
 
 There was something in her tone that puzzled John 
 Somerville, but he was far enough from suspecting 
 that she knew the truth, and at last knew him too. 
 
 " Rosa," he said, after a pause, " I, too, believe 
 that Ida still lives. Do you love her well enough to 
 make a sacrifice for the sake of recovering her?" 
 
 " What sacrifice?" she asked, fixing her eye upon 
 turn. 
 
 11 A sacrifice of your feelings." 
 
 " Explain. You speak in enigmas." 
 
 " Listen, then. I have already told you that I, too, 
 believe Ida to be living. Indeed, I have lately come 
 upon a clue which I think will lead me to her. 
 Withdraw the opposition you have twice made to my 
 suit, promise me that you will reward my affection 
 by your hand if I succeed, and I will devote myself 
 to the search for Ida, resting not day or night till I 
 have placed her in your arms. This I am ready to 
 do. If I succeed, may I claim my reward ? " 
 
 " What reason have you for thinking you would be 
 able to find her ? " asked Mrs. Clifton, with the same 
 inexplicable manner. 
 
 " The clue that I spoke of." 
 
316 JActfs WARD; OB, 
 
 " And are you not generous enough to exert your- 
 self without demanding of me this sacrifice ? " 
 
 " No, Rosa," he answered firmly, "I am not un- 
 selfish enough. I have long loved you. You may 
 not love me ; but I am sure I can make you happy. 
 I am forced to show myself selfish, since it is the 
 only way in which I can win you." 
 
 " But consider a moment. Put it on a different 
 ground. If you restore me my child now, will not 
 even that be a poor atonement for the wrong you did 
 me seven years since," she spoke rapidly now, 
 " for the grief, and loneliness, and sorrow which your 
 wickedness and cruelty have wrought?" 
 
 " I do not understand you," he said, faltering. 
 
 "It is sufficient explanation, Mr. Somerville, to 
 say I have seen the woman who is now in prison, 
 your paid agent, and that I need no assistance to 
 recover Ida. She is in my house." 
 
 "Confusion!" 
 
 He uttered only this word, and, rising, left the pres- 
 ence of the woman whom he had so long deceived 
 and injured. 
 
 His grand scheme had failed. 
 
?HB ROY GUARDIAN. 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 JACK'S RETURN. 
 
 IT is quite time to return to New York, from which 
 Ida was carried but three short weeks before. 
 
 " I am beginning to feel anxious about Jack." 
 said Mrs. Harding. " It's more than a week since 
 we heard from him. I'm afraid he's got into some 
 trouble." 
 
 " Probably he's too busy to write," said the cooper, 
 wishing to relieve his wife's anxiety, though he, too, 
 was not without anxiety. 
 
 " I told you so," said Rachel, in one of her usual 
 fits of depression. '* I told you Jack wasn't fit to be 
 sent on such an errand. If you'd only taken my 
 advice you wouldn't have had so much worry and 
 trouble about him now. Most likely he's got into the 
 House of Reformation, or somewhere. I knew a 
 young man once who went away from home, and 
 never came back again. Nobody ever knew what 
 
318 JACK'S WARD; o/?, 
 
 became of him till his body was found in the river 
 half-eaten by fishes." 
 
 " How can you talk so, Rachel?" said Mrs. Hard- 
 ing, ' ' and about your own nephew too ? " 
 
 4 ' This is a world of trial and disappointment," 
 said Rachel, " and we might as well expect the 
 worst, for it's sure to come." 
 
 " At that rate there wouldn't be much joy in life," 
 said Timothy. " No, Rachel, you are wrong. God 
 did not send us into the world to be melancholy. He 
 wants us to enjoy ourselves. Now, I have no idea 
 that Jack has jumped into the river, or become food 
 for the fishes. Even if he should happen to tumble 
 in, he can swim." 
 
 "I suppose," said Rachel, with mild sarcasm, 
 " you expect him to come home in a coach and four, 
 bringing Ida with him." 
 
 " Well," said the cooper, good-humoredly, " that's 
 a good deal better to anticipate than your suggestion, 
 and I don't know but it's as probable." 
 
 Rachel shook her head dismally. 
 
 " I feel as if something was going to happen," she 
 said dolefully. " If s best to be prepared for it." 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 319 
 
 "Bless me!" interrupted Mrs. Harding, looking 
 out of the window, in a tone of excitement, " there's 
 a carriage just stopped at the door, and yes, it is 
 Jack and Ida, too ! " 
 
 The strange fulfilment of her own ironical sugges- 
 tion struck even Aunt Rachel. She, too, hastened to 
 the window, and saw a handsome carriage drawn, not 
 by four horses, but by two, standing before the door. 
 
 Jack had already jumped out, and was now assist- 
 ing Ida to alight. No sooner was Ida on firm ground 
 than she ran into the house, and was at once clasped 
 in the arms of her adopted mother. 
 
 "O mother," she exclaimed, "how glad I am to 
 see you once more ! " 
 
 " Haven't you a kiss for me, too, Ida?" said the 
 cooper, his face radiant with joy. " You don't know 
 how much we've missed you." 
 
 "And I am so glad to see you all, and Aunt 
 Rachel, too!" 
 
 To her astonishment, Aunt Rachel, for the first 
 time in her remembrance, kissed her. There was 
 nothing wanting to her welcome home. 
 
 But the observant eyes of the spinster detected 
 
320 JACK'S WARD; ox, 
 
 what had escaped the cooper and his wife, in their joy 
 at Ida's return. 
 
 "Where did you get this handsome dress, Ida?" 
 ihe asked. 
 
 Then, for the first time, the cooper's family noticed 
 that Ida was more elegantly dressed than when she 
 went away. She looked like a young princess. 
 
 " That Mrs. Hardwick didn't give you this gown, 
 I'll be bound ! " said Aunt Rachel. 
 
 " Oh, I've so much to tell you," said Ida, 
 oreathlessly. "I've found my mother, my other 
 mother ! " 
 
 A pang struck to the honest hearts of Timothy 
 Harding and his wife. Ida must leave them. After 
 all the happy years which they had watched over and 
 cared for her, she must leave them at length. 
 
 While they were silent in view of their threatened 
 loss, an elegantly dressed lady appeared on the 
 threshold. Smiling, radiant with happiness, Mrs. 
 Clifton seemed, to the cooper's family, almost a being 
 from another sphere. 
 
 "Mother," said Ida, taking the hand of the 
 stranger, and leading her up to Mrs. Harding, " this 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 321 
 
 is my other mother, who has always taken such good 
 care of me, and loved me so well." 
 
 " Mrs. Harding," said Mrs. Clifton, her voice full 
 of feeling, ' ' how can I ever thank you for your kind- 
 ness to my child ? " 
 
 44 My child!" 
 
 It was hard for Mrs. Harding to hear another 
 speak of Ida this way. 
 
 " I have tried to do my duty by her," she said 
 simply. " I love her as if she were my own." 
 
 " Yes," said the cooper, clearing his throat, and 
 speaking a little huskily, " we love her so much 
 that we almost forgot that she wasn't ours. We have 
 had her since she was a baby, and it won't be easy at 
 first to give her up." 
 
 11 My good friends," said Mrs. Clifton, earnestly, 
 "I acknowledge your claim. I shall not think of 
 asking you to make that sacrifice. I shall always 
 think of Ida as only a little less yours than mine." 
 
 The cooper shook his head. 
 
 '"'But you live in Philadelphia," he said. "We 
 shall lose sight of her." 
 
 21 
 
322 JAC^S WARD; 0J2, 
 
 " Not unless you refuse to come to Philadelphia, 
 too." 
 
 "I am a poor man. Perhaps I might not find 
 work there." 
 
 "That shall be my care, Mr. Harding. I have 
 another inducement to offer. God has bestowed 
 upon me a large share of this world's goods. I am 
 thankful for it since it will enable me in some slight 
 way to express my sense of your great kindness to 
 Ida. I own a neat brick house, in a quiet street, 
 which 3^ou will find more comfortable than this. 
 Just before I left Philadelphia, my lawyer, by my 
 directions, drew up a deed of gift, conveying the 
 house to you. It is Ida's gift, not mine. Ida, give 
 this to Mr. Harding." 
 
 The child took the parchment and handed it to the 
 cooper, who took it mechanically, quite bewildered 
 by his sudden good fortune. 
 
 " This for me ? " he said. 
 
 " It is the first instalment of my debt of gratitude ; 
 it shall not be the last," said Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 "How shall I thank you, madam?" said the- 
 
THE SOT GUARDIAN. 323 
 
 Cooper. "To a poor man, like me, this is a most 
 munificent gift." 
 
 " You will best thank me by accepting it," said 
 Mrs. Clifton. " Let me add, for I know it will 
 enhance the value of the gift in your eyes, that it is 
 only five minutes' walk from my own house, and Ida 
 will come and see you every day." 
 
 " Yes, mamma," said Ida. " I couldn't be happy 
 away from father and mother, and Jack and Aunt 
 Rachel." 
 
 " You must introduce me to Aunt Rachel," said 
 Mrs. Clifton, with a grace all her own. 
 
 Ida did so. 
 
 "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss 
 Rachel," said Mrs. Clifton. I need not say that I 
 shall be glad to see you, as well as Mr. and Mrs. 
 Harding, at my house very frequently." 
 
 "I'm much obleeged to ye," said Aunt Rachel; 
 u but I don't think I shall live long to go anywheres. 
 The feelin's I have sometimes warn me that I'm not 
 long for this world." 
 
 " You see, Mrs. Clifton," said Jack, his eyes 
 dancing with mischief, " we come of a short-lived 
 
324 JACE?S WARD; O.R, 
 
 family. Grandmother died at eighty-two, and that 
 wouldn't give Aunt Rachel long to live." 
 
 " You impudent boy ! " exclaimed Miss Rachel, in 
 great indignation. Then, relapsing inta melancholy, 
 " I'm a poor, afflicted creetur, and the sooner I leave 
 this scene of trial the better." 
 
 "I'm afraid, Mrs. Clifton," said Jack, "Aunt 
 Rachel won't live to wear that silk dress you brought 
 along. I'd take it myself, but I'm afraid it wouldn't 
 be of any use to me." 
 
 " A silk dress ! " exclaimed Rachel, looking up 
 with sudden animation. 
 
 It had long been her desire to have a new silk 
 dress, but in her brother's circumstances she had not 
 ventured to hint at it. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Clifton, " I ventured to pur- 
 chase dresses for both of the ladies. Jack, if it 
 won't be too much trouble, will you bring them in ? " 
 
 Jack darted out, and returned with two ample 
 patterns of heavy black silk, one for his mother, the 
 other for his aunt. Aunt Rachel would not have 
 been human if she had not eagerly examined the 
 
T&.E HOY GVAMDIAN. 820 
 
 rich fabnc with secret satisfaction. She inwardly 
 resolved to live a little longer." 
 
 There was a marked improvement in her spirits, 
 and she indulged in no prognostications of evil for an 
 unusual period. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton and Ida stopped to supper, and 
 before they returned to the hotel an early date was 
 fixed upon for the Hardings to remove to Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 In the evening Jack told the eventful story of his 
 adventures to eager listeners, closing with the wel- 
 come news that he was to receive the reward of a 
 thousand dollars offered for the detection of the 
 counterfeiters. 
 
 " So you see, father, I am a man of fortune ! " he 
 concluded. 
 
 1 'After all, Rachel, it was a good thing we sent 
 J&ck to Philadelphia," said the cooper. 
 
 Rachel did not notice this remark. She was 
 busily discussing with her sister-in-law the best way 
 of making up her new silk. 
 
326 JACK'S WARD; o*. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI, 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 As soon as arrangements could be made, Mr. 
 Harding and his whole family removed to Philadel- 
 phia. The house which Mrs. Clifton had given them 
 exceeded their anticipations. It was so much better 
 and larger than their former dwelling that their 
 furniture would have appeared to great disadvantage 
 in it. But Mrs. Clifton had foreseen this, and they 
 found the house already furnished for their reception. 
 Even Aunt Rachel was temporarily exhilarated in 
 spirits when she was ushered into the neatly furnished 
 chamber which was assigned to her use. 
 
 Through Mrs. Clifton's influence the cooper was 
 enabled to establish himself in business on a larger 
 scale, and employ others, instead of working himself 
 for hire. Ida was such a frequent visitor that it was 
 hard to tell which she considered her home, her 
 
THE &OY GUARDIAN. 327 
 
 mother's elegant residence, or the cooper's comfort- 
 able dwelling. 
 
 Jack put his thousand dollars into a savings-bank, 
 to accumulate till he should be ready to go into busi- 
 ness for himself, and required it as capital. A 
 situation was found for him in a merchant's counting- 
 room, and in due time he was admitted into partner- 
 ship, and became a thriving young merchant. 
 
 Ida grew lovelier as she grew older, and her rare 
 beauty and attractive manners caused her to be 
 sought after. It may be that some of my readers are 
 expecting that she will marry Jack; but they will 
 probably be disappointed. They are too much like 
 brother and sister for such a relation to be thought 
 of. Jack reminds her occasionally of the time when 
 she was his little ward, and he was her guardian 
 and protector. 
 
 One day as Eachel was walking up Chestnut street, 
 she was astonished by a hearty grasp of the hand 
 from a bronzed and weather-beaten stranger. 
 
 " Release me, sir," she said hysterically. " What 
 do you mean by such conduct?" 
 
328 JACK'S WARD; ojz, 
 
 " Surely you have not forgotten your old friend, 
 Captain Bowling," said the stranger. 
 
 Rachel brightened up. 
 
 " I didn't remember you at first," she said, " but 
 now I do." 
 
 " Now tell me, how are all your family?" 
 
 " They are all well, all except me, I don't think 
 I am long for this world." 
 
 11 Oh, yes, you are. You are too young to think 
 of leaving us yet," said Captain Bowling, heartily. 
 
 Rachel was gratified by this unusual compliment. 
 
 "Are you married?" asked Captain Bowling, 
 abruptly. 
 
 Rachel blushed. 
 
 " I shall never marry," she said. " I shouldn't 
 daie to trust my happiness to a man." 
 
 " Not if I were that man," said the captain per- 
 suasively. 
 
 "O Captain Bowling!" murmured Rachel, agi- 
 tated. " How can you say such things ? " 
 
 "I'll tell you why, Miss Harding. I'm going to 
 give up the sea, and settle down on land. I shall 
 
THE EOT GUARDIAN. 329 
 
 need a good, sensible wife, and if you'll take me, I'll 
 make you Mrs. Bowling at once. 
 
 " This is so unexpected, Captain Bowling," said 
 Rachel ; but she did not look displeased. " Do you 
 think it would be proper to marry * so suddenly?" 
 
 "It will be just the thing to do. Now, what do 
 you say yes or no ? " 
 
 " If you really think it will be right," faltered the 
 agitated spinster. 
 
 "Then it's all settled." 
 
 " What will Timothy say?" 
 
 " That you've done a sensible thing." 
 
 Two hours later, leaning on Captain Bowling's arm, 
 Mrs. Rachel Bowling re-entered her brother's house. 
 
 "Why, Rachel, where have you been?" asked 
 Mrs. Harding, and she looked hard at Rachel's com- 
 panion. 
 
 "This is my consort, Captain Bowling," said 
 Kachel, nervously. 
 
 " This is Mrs. Bowling, ma'am," said the captain. 
 
 "When were you married?" asked the cooper (it 
 was dinner time, and both he and Jack were at 
 home) . 
 
330 JACX?S WARD; os, 
 
 " Only an hour ago. We'd have invited you, but 
 time was pressing." 
 
 "I thought you never meant to be married, Aunt 
 Rachel," said Jack, mischievously. 
 
 "I I don't expect to live long, and it won't 
 make much difference," said Rachel. 
 
 " You'll have to consult me about that," said 
 Captain Bowling. "I don't want you to leave me 
 a widower too soon." 
 
 "I propose that we drink Mrs. Bowling's health," 
 said Jack. " Can anybody tell me why she's like 
 a good ship?" 
 
 " Because she's got a good captain," said Mrs. 
 Harding. 
 
 " That'll do mother ; but there's another reason, 
 because she's well manned." 
 
 Captain Bowling evidently appreciated the joke, 
 judging from his hearty laughter. He added that 
 it wouldn't be his fault if she wasn't well rigged, 
 too. 
 
 The marriage has turned out favorably. The cap- 
 tain looks upon his wife as a superior woman, and 
 Rachel herself has few fits of depression nowadays. 
 
THE BOY GUARDIAN. 331 
 
 They have taken a small house near Mr. Hoarding's, 
 and Eachel takes no little pride in her snug and 
 comfortable home. 
 
 One word more. At the close of her term of im- 
 prisonment, Peg came to Mrs. Clifton and reminded 
 her of her promise. Dick was dead, and she was 
 left alone in the world. Imprisonment had not 
 hardened her, as it often does. She had been re- 
 deemed by the kindness of those whom she had in- 
 jured. Mrs. Clifton found her a position, in which 
 her energy and administrative ability found fitting 
 exercise, and she leads a laborious and useful life 
 in a community where her history is not known. 
 As for John Somerville, with the last remnants of 
 a once handsome fortune he purchased a ticket to 
 Australia, and set out on a voyage for that distant 
 country. But he never reached his destination. The 
 vessel was wrecked in a violent storm, and he was not 
 among the four that were saved. Henceforth Ida 
 and her mother are far from his evil machinations 
 and we may confidently hope for them a happy and 
 peaceful 
 
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