hard;' but I b'lieve the ways of them what has
to do with the transgressors, an' foller them up, is harder, an' them's
my opinions."

Father and uncle Rutherford each offered a few words of sympathy, and
endeavored to comfort him; but he was not yet to be consoled, and could
see no hope for the future. He was terribly distressed over the
necessity of telling Mrs. Yorke, and said that he meant to "sleep over
it," and think of the best way of breaking it to her. But we all knew
how much probability there was of that. No sooner would he see his
wife, than his full heart would overleap all restraint he might have
intended to put upon it, and she would be put in possession of all the
facts, down to the smallest details.

In the midst of his own perplexities, however, the captain did not
forget a piece of news he had brought with him, and which especially
interested me, and speedily drew me into the library.

While he was still with the Petersens, but on the point of taking his
leave, the sound of crutches had been heard on the stairs; and Johnny,
turning to listen, said,--

"Dems is Tony mit his crushes. Vat is upper now?" and opened the door
to admit not only Tony, but also his sister. Tony was flustered and
frightened, with eyes half starting from his head; but Matty was
impassive as usual, and showed neither terror nor excitement.

"They've gone!" exclaimed the lame boy.

"Who are gone? Vat is de madder?" asked Johnny; then added, before Tony
could answer, "Poor leetle poy, he is all upside down mit dis day.
Shpeak, Tony."

"They've gone," repeated Tony; "an' what is wus, the furnitur' is gone
too, an' there ain't no beds nor nuthin'."

"Vat is gone?" asked Mrs. Petersen in her turn; then, jumping at her
own conclusions, added, "De vater an' de mutter?"

"Yes, and good riddance, too; on'y we ain't got any place to sleep,"
said Tony; which filial sentiment found an echo in the hearts of all
present.

It was all true, as Johnny found on investigation. When Tony and Matty
had gone home that evening, they found the wretched room on the top
floor of a tenement-house, which they had inhabited with their father
and mother, empty and tenantless; the few articles of worthless
furniture (if furniture it could be called) which it had formerly held,
taken away. But if there was no one there to welcome them, neither did
there await them the abusive language and hard blows they too
frequently encountered. They were not in