ooking boy,' he continued. 'You have only to
look at him a second to feel you can trust him. Dress him properly, and
he is as good as a fortune.'

If it had seemed possible to dart along the passage and out through the
front door, I should have done so, but my knees were shaking under me;
and, hearing fresh movements in the next room, I drew back and reclosed
the door. A few minutes later the man returned.

'Come this way,' he said, and I followed him into the front room. 'My
daughter, Mrs. Loveridge,' he continued, 'does not like strangers, but I
have persuaded her to treat you as a member of the family----'

'But if you would rather not!' I cried, looking up into her face.

'We are not rich people,' he said, entirely ignoring my outburst, 'but
what we have we are willing to share--now, no one can say fairer than
that. You give up what money you have got in that pocket of yours, and,
when you have taken it out in board and lodging, we will see whether we
can't manage to find you some useful work to do. So hand out, my lad!'

CHAPTER XVII.

Although he had looked so benevolent in the train, I had already begun
to fear this urbane old man far more than I had previously feared the
tramp at Broughton. With an uncomfortable feeling that he had got me in
his power, I could see no way of quickly getting out of it. To refuse to
hand over my money was out of the question, although, with an appearance
of kindness, he gave me back the particular half-crown which I had
changed for him in the train.

The next few hours went by wretchedly enough. Mr. Parsons (for that I
learned was his name) did not leave me for a moment alone, and there was
nothing to divert my thoughts from the extremely disagreeable situation.
I could see no sign of any kind of book; and, indeed, the only form of
print in the house seemed to be half of an old newspaper. At about
half-past eight, Mrs. Loveridge began to prepare for something
resembling a meal by placing on the table, without a cloth, a piece of
bacon, and some bread and cheese. When it was supposed to be ready I
made the acquaintance of Mr. Loveridge, a small, pale-faced, dark-haired
man, with one leg shorter than the other. He wore a boot with a very
thick cork sole, and walked with crutches. Mr. Loveridge scarcely opened
his lips, but greeted me with a long, keen stare. Although I did not
feel the least appetite, I made a pretence of eating.

After supper, we all sat round the ta