ut of the house, if it had not been so
inconvenient for him to lose them then. Curses trembled upon his lips,
but he curbed them, inwardly determining to have his revenge when the
opportunity should arise. The servants saw his eyes, and went back to
their work somewhat doubtful as to whether they had made a judicious
beginning. They were sure they had not, when, two days afterward, every
one of them was turned out of the house, and a new set installed in
their places.

He called for Phipps, and Phipps was at the stable. Putting on his hat,
he went to bring his faithful servitor of Sevenoaks, and bidding him
find a porter in the streets and remove the trunks at Mrs. Belcher's
direction, he sat down at the window to watch for a passing newsboy. The
children came down, cross and half sick with their long ride and their
late dinner. Then it came on to rain in a most dismal fashion, and he
saw before him a day of confinement and ennui. Without mental
resource--unable to find any satisfaction except in action and
intrigue--the prospect was anything but pleasant. The house was large,
and, on a dark day, gloomy. His humor was not sweetened by noticing
evidences of tears on Mrs. Belcher's face. The breakfast was badly
cooked, and he rose from it exasperated. There was no remedy but to go
out and call upon Mrs. Dillingham. He took an umbrella, and, telling his
wife that he was going out on business, he slammed the door behind him
and went down the steps.

As he reached the street, he saw a boy scudding along under an umbrella,
with a package under his arm. Taking him for a newsboy, he called;
"Here, boy! Give me some papers." The lad had so shielded his face from
the rain and the house that he had not seen Mr. Belcher; and when he
looked up he turned pale, and simply said: "I'm not a newsboy;" and then
he ran away as if he were frightened.

There was something in the look that arrested Mr. Belcher's attention.
He was sure he had seen the lad before, but where, he could not
remember. The face haunted him--haunted him for hours, even when in the
cheerful presence of Mrs. Dillingham, with whom he spent a long and
delightful hour. She was rosy, and sweet, and sympathetic in her morning
wrapper--more charming, indeed, than he had ever seen her in evening
dress. She inquired for Mrs. Belcher and the children, and heard with
great good humor his account of his first collision with his New York
servants. When he went out from her insp