can go on State Street to sell papers, so he
won't see you."

"Suppose he should see me."

"You can tell him you lost the money. You ain't smart, Luke Walton, or
you'd know how to manage."

"No, I am not smart in that way, I confess. I shan't waste any more
time talking to you. I'm going home."

"I know what you're going to do. You're goin' to spend all the money
on yourself."

"Don't you believe that I mean to return the change?"

"No, I don't."

"I ought not to complain of that. You merely credit me with acting as
you would act yourself. How many papers have you got left?"

"Eight."

"Here, give me half, and I will sell them for you, that is, if I can
do it in fifteen minutes."

"I'd rather you'd take me to the theayter," grumbled Tom.

"I've already told you I won't do it."

In ten minutes Luke had sold his extra supply of papers, and handed
the money to Tom. Tom thanked him in an ungracious sort of way, and
Luke started for home.

It was a long walk, for the poor cannot afford to pick and choose
their localities. Luke took his way through Clark Street to the river,
and then, turning in a north westerly direction, reached Milwaukee
Avenue. This is not a fashionable locality, and the side streets are
tenanted by those who are poor or of limited means.

Luke paused in front of a three-story frame house in Green Street. He
ascended the steps and opened the door, for this was the newsboy's
home.

CHAPTER II

A LETTER FROM THE DEAD

In the entry Luke met a girl of fourteen with fiery red hair, which
apparently was a stranger to the comb and brush. She was the
landlady's daughter, and, though of rather fitful and uncertain
temper, always had a smile and pleasant word for Luke, who was a
favorite of hers.

"Well, Nancy, how's mother?" asked the newsboy, as he began to ascend
the front stairs.

"She seems rather upset like, Luke," answered Nancy.

"What has happened to upset her?" asked Luke, anxiously.

"I think it's a letter she got about noon. It was a queer letter, all
marked up, as if it had been travelin' round. I took it in myself, and
carried it up to your ma. I stayed to see her open it, for I was kind
of curious to know who writ it."

"Well?"

"As soon as your ma opened it, she turned as pale as ashes, and I
thought she'd faint away. She put her hand on her heart just so," and
Nancy placed a rather dirty hand of her own, on which glittered a
five-cent brass ring, over that po