Luke.

"Oh, that's it, is it? Let me see the letter."

"I must refer you to Mrs. Merton."

"He has probably sent to Aunt Eliza for some money," thought Mrs.
Tracy. "He and the boy are well matched."

CHAPTER XL

FACE TO FACE WITH THE ENEMY

Thomas Browning sat in his handsome study, in a complacent frame of
mind. The caucus was to be held in the evening, and he confidently
expected the nomination for mayor. It was the post he had coveted for
a long time. There were other honors that were greater, but the
mayoralty would perhaps prove a stepping-stone to them. He must not be
impatient. He was only in middle life, and there was plenty of time.

"I didn't dream this when I was a penniless miner in California," he
reflected, gleefully. "Fortune was hard upon me then, but now I am at
the top of the heap. All my own good management, too. Tom Butler--no,
Browning--is no fool, if I do say it myself."

"Someone to see you, Mr. Browning," said the servant.

"Show him in!" replied the philanthropist.

A poorly dressed man followed the maid into the room.

Mr. Browning frowned. He had thought it might be some influential
member of his party.

"What do you want?" he asked, roughly.

The poor man stood humbly before him, nervously pressing the hat
between his hands.

"I am one of your tenants, Mr. Browning. I am behindhand with my rent,
owing to sickness in the family, and I have been ordered out."

"And very properly, too!" said Browning. "You can't expect me to let
you stay gratis."

"But sir, you have the reputation of being a philanthropist. It hardly
seems the character----"

"I do not call myself a philanthropist--others call me so--and perhaps
they are right. I help the poor to the extent of my means, but even a
philanthropist expects his honest dues."

"Then you can do nothing for me, sir?"

"No; I do not feel called upon to interfere in your case."

The poor man went out sorrowfully, leaving the philanthropist in an
irritable mood. Five minutes later a second visitor was announced.

"Who is it?" asked Browning, fearing it might be an other tenant.

"It is a boy, sir."

"With a message, probably. Show him up."

But Thomas Browning was destined to be surprised, when in the
manly-looking youth who entered he recognized the Chicago newsboy who
had already excited his uneasiness.

"What brings you here?" he demanded, in a startled tone.

"I don't know if you remember me, Mr. Browning," said