than on the farm."

"Possibly that is true. You had positively nothing to do with that fire
at your uncle's barn?"

"No, sir--I didn't even have a light around the place."

"But you saw somebody near by."

"Yes, sir. I thought it was my uncle."

"It must have been a tramp."

"Just what I think, Mr. Garwell."

"And you think your uncle is coming to New York to look for you?"

"He'll come, if the carfare doesn't scare him off. He is a very close
man."

"Hum!" The real estate broker mused for a moment. "Well, if he comes,
supposing you let me know? Maybe I can persuade him to allow you to
remain in the city."

At this Nat's face brightened.

"Oh, Mr. Garwell, will you do that? I suppose, as my guardian, he has a
legal right to order me back to the farm."

"We'll have to see about that. But he hasn't found you yet."

"That is true."

"You ought to let him know that you are well, and have a position. You
need not give him your address."

"I'll write the letter to-morrow."

"Was your father a farmer?"

"Yes, sir, although when he was a young fellow like myself he lived in
Brooklyn. His father and his grandfather were both born in New York."

"I see. Then you have city blood in your veins. That may account for
your liking New York so much."

In a short time after the conversation came to an end, Trenton was
reached, and calling a cab, Mr. Garwell had himself and Nat driven to
one of the public buildings.

Here both spent some time in looking over legal records, and one of the
records Nat had to copy off in pencil for his employer. After this, came
a visit to a lawyer's office, and Nat was sent on a short errand.

When the business in Trenton was over, both found they had two hours to
wait before they could get a train for home.

"Let us go and get a lunch," said Mr. Garwell, and led the way to a fine
restaurant in that vicinity.

The real estate broker was on the point of entering the eating place
when a child of five ran up to him, exclaiming:

"Papa, I want you to buy me some candy, please."

Now, as it happened, Mr. Garwell was a bachelor, so he was taken much by
surprise, and so was our hero.

"Did you speak to me, my dear?" he asked, kindly.

"Why, yes, papa," answered the little one, readily.

"But I am not your father, child," and the real estate broker began to
flush up.

"Oh, yes, you are!" came from the child.

"No. What is your name?"

At this the child laughed heartily.