A little conversation which he had with his Uncle Warner made his
discontent more intense.

"Hello, Harold, what makes you look so blue?" he asked one day.

"Because I haven't got any money," answered Harold.

"Doesn't your mother or Aunt Eliza give you any?"

"I get a little, but it isn't as much as the other fellows get."

"How much?"

"Two dollars a week."

"It is more than I had when I was of your age."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"Aunt Eliza isn't exactly lavish; still, she pays Luke Walton
generously."

"Do you know how much he gets a week?" asked Harold, eagerly.

"Ten dollars."

"Ten dollars!" ejaculated Harold. "You don't really mean it."

"Yes, I do. I saw her pay him that sum yesterday. I asked her if it
wasn't liberal. She admitted it, but said he had a mother and brother
to support."

"It's a shame!" cried Harold, passionately.

"Why is it? The money is her own, isn't it?"

"She ought not to treat a stranger better than her own nephew."

"That means me, I judge," said Warner, smiling. "Well, there isn't
anything we can do about it, is there?"

"No, I don't know as there is," replied Harold, slowly.

But he thought over what his uncle had told him, and it made him very
bitter. He brooded over it till it seemed to him as if it were a great
outrage. He felt that he was treated with the greatest injustice. He
was incensed with his aunt, but still more so with Luke Walton, whom
he looked upon as an artful adventurer.

It was while he was cherishing these feelings that a great temptation
came to him. He found, one day in the street, a bunch of keys of
various sizes attached to a small steel ring. He picked it up, and
quick as a flash there came to him the thought of the drawer in his
aunt's work table, from which he had seen her take out the morocco
pocketbook. He had observed that the ten-dollar bill she gave him was
only one out of a large roll, and his cupidity was aroused. He rapidly
concocted a scheme by which he would be enabled to provide himself
with money, and throw suspicion upon Luke.

CHAPTER XXIX

HAROLD'S THEFT

The next morning, Mrs. Merton, escorted by Luke, went to make some
purchases in the city. Mrs. Tracy went out, also, having an engagement
with one of her friends living on Cottage Grove Avenue. Harold went
out directly after breakfast, but returned at half-past ten. He went
upstairs and satisfied himself that except the servants, he was alone
i