you on your prospects. You would have done as well
to stay in Pentonville and work on my woodpile."

"Whatever work I may do in New York, I shall be a good deal better
paid for than here," retorted Ben.

Squire Davenport shrugged his shoulders, and began to read the morning
paper. To do him justice, he only said what he thought when he
predicted to Ben that he would be called upon to do menial work.

"The boy won't be in so good spirits a week hence," he thought.
"However, that is not my affair. There is no doubt that I shall get
possession of his mother's house when the three months are up, and I
don't at all care where he and his mother go. If they leave
Pentonville I shall be very well satisfied. I have no satisfaction in
meeting either of them," and the squire frowned, as if some unpleasant
thought had crossed his mind.

Nothing of note passed during the remainder of the journey. Ben
arrived in New York, and at once took a conveyance uptown, and due
time found himself, carpet-bag in hand, on the front steps of Mrs.
Hamilton's house.

He rang the bell, and the door was opened by a servant.

"She's out shopping," answered the girl, looking inquisitively at
Ben's carpet-bag. "Will you leave a message for her?"

"I believe I am expected," said Ben, feeling a little awkward. "My
name is Benjamin Barclay."

"Mrs. Hamilton didn't say anything about expecting any boy," returned
the servant. "You can come in, if you like, and I'll call Mrs. Hill."

"I suppose that is the housekeeper," thought Ben.

"Very well," he answered. "I believe I will come in, as Mrs. Hamilton
wrote me to come."

Ben left his bag in the front hall, and with his hat in his hand
followed the servant into the handsomely-furnished drawing room.

"I wish Mrs. Hamilton had been here," he said to himself. "The girl
seems to look at me suspiciously. I hope the housekeeper knows about
my coming."

Ben sat down in an easy-chair beside a marble-topped center table, and
waited for fifteen minutes before anyone appeared. He beguiled the
time by looking over a handsomely illustrated book of views, but
presently the door was pushed open and he looked up.

The newcomer was a spare, pale-faced woman, with a querulous
expression, who stared coldly at our hero. It was clear that she was
not glad to see him. "What can I do for you, young man?" she asked in
a repellent tone.

"What a disagreeable-looking woman!" thought Ben. "I am sure w