warmer-hearted people who were not so cautious. One of them was Smith.

"You see, Sir," he said, "I always have kept a boy to take the papers round, but I thought as my own boy was ten I might do without and save a bit; but I've managed so far, and if the boy doesn't want much, I can manage to give him his food and a trifle a week, and I'll teach him a bit of an evening, and I'll do my best to make a man of him, if I can."

Miles, the market gardener on the hill, offered to take the second with his other boy, anyhow through the summer, and maybe longer; it was satisfactorily settled, and Mr. Percy was much pleased, though he still felt a lingering regret that Golding should not have offered to take one.

Smith's shop was only a few houses from Golding's, and it was not long before Golding saw the new boy going in and out with the papers, and soon recognised him as one of the two whom he had seen in the cricket field, and sometimes since; he was the quieter one of the two, Johnnie, whom Golding had felt from the first was his boy. A tall, strong boy he was now, but still with the serious, thoughtful look that pleased Golding's fancy, as the look of one who would be sure to get on in life, though what matter it was to him he did not know. "Well, perhaps," he said to himself, "if he grows up steady, and I ever felt inclined, the time might come when I could do something for him, but that's not likely."

When Miles's cart came rattling down on market day heaped up with cabbages, he also recognised Jack mounted on the top and urging on the shaggy pony at a great rate-still curly-haired and rosy and merry-eyed, and as proud as a king to pass by his friend Johnnie at that wonderful pace.

"He's a pickle and no mistake," Golding said to himself, "and he'll get into no end of scrapes. I hope he mayn't lead Johnnie into any, but there what does it matter to me?"

"Have you seen that boy of mine?" Smith asked, as he came in one evening in the first week of having Johnnie. "It's early days to talk, but he's a capital one, he is, and as sharp as a needle, although he looks so quiet. I warrant he'll do, he's so quick and handy, and as far as I can see, he's not got any bad tricks."

What right had Golding to feel pleased? What was praise or blame of the boy to him? And yet a feeling of pleasure crept into that frosty nature of his in spite of himself. "What's the lad's name?" he asked.

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Well, we call him Johnnie; it sounds more kindly with my boys, and my wife she's taken quite a fancy to him. John Blake they call him; but there-you know his story, don't you?"

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Yes, yes, to be sure I do," Golding said, hurriedly, and turned away to avoid the too familiar story that he had hoped to bury under time and business and prosperity, and which yet came springing up to meet him at every turn.

It was not only from Smith that Golding heard continually of Johnnie Blake. It strangely chanced that Mrs. Wilmot, the old woman who had for years looked after Golding's house, and cooked and washed for him, found a room in her house where

James Golding's Boy.

Johnnie could sleep, as Smith had no corner to put him in, and the kind old body took him in for a mere trifle a week, not only to her house but to her heart, and soon began to care for the workhouse boy as tenderly as she had for her own sons, now working their way in different parts of the world. She was getting old and talkative, and many a time would pour out to Golding the praises of "her boy," as she soon grew to call him; but as she did not allude to his former history, Golding did not mind. Mrs. Wilmot thought that the sooner his starting point was forgotten the better, and so she would not talk about it.

Johnnie Blake and Jack Stone (for so the other boy was called) still kept up their friendship, and were together as much as they could. Jack Stone had not been so fortunate as Johnnie Blake in falling among kind-hearted, easy-going people, like the Smiths and Mrs. Wilmot. Miles, the nursery-man, was kind and well-meaning on the whole, but he was stern and strict, and would not stand any carelessness, and many was the rough word and blow that Jack bore. But it did him no harm; he was light-hearted and merry, and needed a tight hand to keep him out of mischief, and in spite of their constant falling out, Jack liked Miles and Miles liked Jack, and often laughed in his sleeve at the mischievous monkey tricks he had to punish.

Out of work hours, Jack was left quite to himself, and as long as none of his doings reached Miles's ears, his master did not much care what became of him.

The other boy there was a good deal older than Jack, and was an idle, good-for-nothing lad. At first, he and Jack were great friends, and spent their Sundays together in all sorts of amusements, but, happily for Jack, this did not last long. One Sunday they met Johnnie, who was going to church with Mrs. Wilmot. Johnnie had been taken into St. Peter's choir, and as he had a good voice and was fond of using it, it was a great pleasure to him. Johnnie called out to Jack to come too, but Jack did not think himself smart enough, but said that perhaps he would come next Sunday. As soon as they had parted, Hallett, the other boy, began chaffing and calling Johnnie a saint and a humbug, and asked Jack if he meant to be the same. But Jack was no coward, and would not be laughed out of his intentions, or hear a friend of his abused, and he gave Hallet back his words with interest, and the next day, when the subject was revived, the words came to blows, and Jack being the smallest, got the worst of it, and also got a flogging from Miles for having a black eye, and breaking a fuchsia in the scuffle. However, next Sunday Jack was ready with a shining, well-washed face and crisp curly hair to go to church with Johnnie, and when he had once begun, it soon grew into a regular habit, and though it was begun to show Hallet that he was not to be bullied, it was continued from a better motive.

After a time, Johnnie did not appear such perfection as he had at first. He was inclined to be sulky, and sometimes would be silent and sullen for days together, but Smith hoped that he would grow out of it. He was a great favourite with Mr. Percy, who lent him books, and helped him with his learning, and as he was quick and

intelligent, he quite repaid the trouble. "He takes after his mother," Golding used to say to himself, "she was terrible fond of a book, but he has his father's care of his money, not like that Stone whose money burns holes in his pockets."

CHAPTER IV.

SMITH'S business very much improved during the next few years; he never regretted taking Johnie, and when Johnie was fifteen, and worthy of a better place, he was able to increase his wages and keep him on, with a smaller boy to take round the papers. Jack, too, was kept on. They had both grown tall, strong lads, but Jack was the strongest and hardiest of the two, from his constant out-of-door work. All seemed going well with the boys, when suddenly a cloud came up which threatened a storm.

One day, Smith came into Golding's shop looking troubled and anxious. "I don't know what to do," he said, "and I want you to advise me, Golding. It's very vexing. I'd rather that anything had happened than this."

"Well! what's up?"

Why, I've missed some money from the till, and that's the fact."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I stand here, and it's not once but two or three times now. Only a little, a few shillings, but still it's thieving all the same."

Golding felt a strange coldness at his heart. "Who is it?" he

said.

"Ay, ay! I know what you'll say, that it's Johnnie, but I don't believe it. I'd trust him with anything. I'd sooner think it was myself. No! I'll tell you who I've my eye on-Jack Stone; he's so often about the place on one excuse or another, and he's not a steady chap like Johnnie."

Golding gave an involuntary sigh of relief.

"The young

rascal," he said, "I'd give him a good lesson if I was you. Speak to Miles, he'll teach him to keep his fingers to himself, I

warrant."

"Well, I was thinking as I'd speak to Miles, but still it may not be the lad, and it's no use getting him into trouble for nothing. I can't think who else it can be, though. I'd like to prove it before I said anything."

"Well, mark some money. Set a trap for the young rogue." "I'd a deal rather prevent him from taking it than find him out," kind-hearted Smith said.

"Ay, but it's not fair; he'll go on if he's not found out, and there's no knowing where it may stop."

"Very well," Smith said, "I'll mark some money-like this-do. you see?"

A few days after this, Jack came into Golding's shop, whistling like a bird, and as happy and gay as one, and bought some tea. He was tossing a shilling up in his hand. When Golding held

James Golding's Boy.

out his hand for the money, he laughed and gave it a spin in the air: "We'll toss for the money, Master Golding-heads I win, tails you lose-here you are," and he tossed the money on the counter. It was a marked shilling.

"Come here," Golding said, and Jack followed him much surprised into the parlour. "Now, my young man, you're caught; that shilling you stole so cleverly was marked, and you're found out, sharp as you think yourself."

Jack got very red. "What do you mean?" he stammered, "if you weren't an old man, I'd knock you down."

"Mean? You young thief, you'll see soon enough," and Golding shut the door on him, and locked it, and was in Smith's shop in a minute. Johnnie was standing folding the papers that had just come in, but Golding did not care for his presence, and, in a few words, told Smith what had happened. Smith was dreadfully grieved. In his heart, I think, he would rather have been robbed of half his income than have found it out. Even now he was all for hushing it up, and letting off Jack with a good talking to. But Golding was not inclined for such mild measures, and spoke of its being Smith's duty to make an example of the boy. As they turned their steps back to Golding's shop, they did not notice that Johnnie followed them with a pale face and anxious eyes. Smith was quite ready to be gentle and forgiving to the penitent, conscience-stricken culprit whom he expected to find, but he was quite unprepared for the burst of anger that met him when the door was unlocked. Jack stormed till Smith was quite silenced, and Golding spoke of sending for the police. Smith stood wiping his hot forehead, and looking helplessly at Golding, while Johnnie stood in the shop outside, listening to his friend's loud, angry voice. Where did the shilling come from, if he had not stolen it? That was the question, and it was just this that Jack did not seem willing to say. If he would only have confessed his theft, and asked pardon, Smith's kind heart was ready to grant it; but, in spite of the accusing shilling, Jack stuck to it that he was innocent-"brazened it out, the scamp!" as Golding said.

"Will you go and tell Miles of it?" Smith said, nervously, to Golding. "I don't want to put you in jail for it, Jack, but it's not fair to your master not to let him know, for he may trust you." Jack's face was red, and his eyes bright and angry, and he turned to Golding, with a laugh-"Come along," he said, "who's afraid? Hit him hard, he's got no friends. There's plenty of room for me in the house yonder, if old Miles gives me the sack."

Then he was silent, and passed through the shop and up the road by Golding's side, without another word. It was hot and dusty, and Golding was not so strong as he had been, and he could hardly keep pace with Jack as he marched doggedly along with hands in his pockets, whistling "Home, sweet home!" As they came up to the garden they saw Miles coming out of one of the hothouses, and Golding called to him. Jack stood at the gate, chewing a bit of grass, and saying not a word, while Golding told the story. Then Miles turned to Jack; he was not a bad sort of man, and there was a warm corner in his heart for Jack. "Well,

lad," he said, "and what have you got to say?" Then Jack tossed the grass away, and took off his cap, and stood facing his master in the broad sunshine. "I didn't take the money," he said, "and that's the truth."

Then, I believe you, Jack," Miles said.

"You believe him?" Golding exclaimed, "a boy that steals can tell lies easy enough."

"He's never either stolen or told lies with me," Miles said, shortly, "and he's not the sort to do it.".

"He might have learnt either where he came from-"

"Hold hard!" Miles called out, "I won't have that brought up against him. He's been three years and more here, and though we've had many rows together, still he's been a good lad."

"Ah, well," Golding said, with a shrug of his shoulders, “it's your own look out, and if you like to trust his word, it's no business of mine."

"If you see Mr. Smith," Miles said, "you can tell him as I think he's made some mistake, and that I'll wait a bit afore I'll put Jack into jail. You be off, you idle young monkey, and see to them flower-pots."

At this very moment Smith himself made his appearance, hot, panting, and excited. He was so out of breath that he could not speak a word, but he caught hold of Jack's hand and shook it, with tears standing in his eyes.

"Well!" Miles said, drily, looking at the two, "that's a new way of punishing a thief."

And then Smith found words

"Thief! not he, it was all a mistake.

I'm terrible sorry, Jack." "Don't speak of it, sir," Jack stammered, more ashamed and awkward now than when he was accused.

"He's as troublesome a young varmint as ever was," Miles said, with a slap on Jack's shoulder that contradicted his words, "but Í knew he wasn't a thief. But how came the mistake?"

Smith's face fell. "I can't bear to think of it," he said; "I'd have trusted Johnnie Blake like my own son; but he's told me all about it, and I've promised to look over it this time, and he's in a great way about it, and I hope you won't speak about it to anyone."

Miles and Jack both at once declared that no one should know of it. Golding alone remained silent. He felt as if he owed Jack a grudge for being innocent and leaving the guilt for Johnnie; and when Smith turned to go home, and called him to come too, he went without a word to Jack, whose eyes followed him till he was out of sight. "He might have said a kind word to a chap," he thought, but I do think he'd rather I'd have stole it. He's a queer sort."

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Golding, that night, as he settled up his accounts right to a halfpenny, thought to himself that he had done the wisest thing he could after all, in keeping his secret, and that as Johnnie was turning out badly, it was well that he was only Johnnie Blake, the workhouse boy, taken by Smith out of charity, and not well-to-do James Golding's son.

(To be continued.)