days before Stephen Webb called again on his new
acquaintance. He did not wish Luke to suspect anything, he said to
himself. Really, however, he found other things to take up his
attention. At the rate his money was going it seemed very doubtful
whether he would be able to give his mother any part of his salary, as
suggested by his uncle.

"Hang it all!" he said to himself, as he noted his rapidly diminishing
hoard. "Why can't my uncle open his heart and give me more than ten
dollars a week? Fifteen dollars wouldn't be any too much, and to him
it would be nothing--positively nothing."

On the second evening Luke went home late. It had been a poor day for
him, and his receipts were less than usual, though he had been out
more hours.

When he entered the house, however, he assumed a cheerful look, for he
never wished to depress his mother's spirits.

"You are late, Luke," said Mrs. Walton; "but I have kept your supper
warm."

"What makes you so late, Luke?" asked Bennie.

"The papers went slow, Bennie. They will, sometimes. There's no very
important news just now. I suppose that explains it."

After a while Luke thought he noticed that his mother looked more
serious than usual.

"What's the matter, mother?" he asked. "Have you a headache?"

"No, Luke. I am perfectly well, but I am feeling a little anxious."

"About what, mother?"

"I went around this afternoon to take half a dozen shirts that I had
completed, and asked for more. They told me they had no more for me at
present, and they didn't know when I could have any more."

This was bad news, for Luke knew that he alone did not earn enough to
support the family. However, he answered cheerfully: "Don't be
anxious, mother! There are plenty of other establishments in Chicago
besides the one you have been working for."

"That is true, Luke; but I don't know whether that will help me. I
stopped at two places after leaving Gusset & Co.'s, and was told that
their list was full."

"Well, mother, don't let us think of it to-night! To morrow we can try
again."

Luke's cheerfulness had its effect on his mother, and the evening was
passed socially.

The next morning Luke went out to work at the usual time. He had all
his papers sold out by half-past ten o'clock, and walked over to State
Street, partly to fill up the time, arid partly in search of some
stray job. He was standing in front of the Bee Hive, a well-known
drygoods store on State Street, when his a