over the game. Warner
reached home in time for supper.

"Where have you been, Warner?" asked Mrs. Tracy.

"Looking for work," was the answer.

"What success did you meet with?"

"Not much as yet. I fell in with an old acquaintance, who may assist
me in that direction."

"I am glad you have lost no time in seeking employment. It will please
aunt."

Warner Powell suppressed a smile. He wondered what Mrs. Merton would
have thought could she have seen in what manner he prosecuted his
search for employment.

"This is Harold," said Mrs. Tracy, proudly, as her son came in.
"Harold, this is your Uncle Warner."

"So you are Harold," said his uncle. "I remember you in short pants.
You have changed considerably in five years."

"Yes, I suppose so," answered Harold, curtly. "Where have you been?"

"In Australia, California, and so on."

"How long are you going to stay in Chicago?"

"That depends on whether I can find employment. If you hear of a place
let me know."

"I don't know of any unless Aunt Eliza will take you into her employ
in place of that newsboy, Luke Walton."

"She can have me if she will pay me enough salary. How much does Luke
get?"

"I don't know. He won't tell."

"Do you like him?"

"I don't consider him a fit associate for me. He is a common
newsboy."

"Does Aunt Eliza know that?"

"Yes; it makes no difference to her. She's infatuated with him."

"I wish she were infatuated with me. I shall have to ask Luke his
secret. Aunt Eliza doesn't prefer him to you, does she?"

"I have no doubt she does. She's very queer about some things."

"Harold," said his mother, solicitously, "I don't think you pay Aunt
Eliza enough attention. Old persons, you know, like to receive
courtesies."

"I treat her politely, don't I?" asked Harold, aggressively. "I can't
be dancing attendance upon her and flattering her all the time."

"From what I have seen of Luke Walton," thought Warner Powell, "I
should decidedly prefer him to this nephew of mine. He seems conceited
and disagreeable. Of course, it won't do to tell Louisa that, for she
evidently admires her graceless cub, because he is hers."

"Are you intimate with this Luke?" asked Warner, mischievously.

"What do you take me for?" demanded Harold, of fended. "I am not in
the habit of getting intimate with street boys."

Warner Powell laughed.

"I am not so proud as you, Nephew Harold," he said. "Travelers pick
up strange companions. In San Franci