m to make fair progress."

This arrangement struck Walter favorably, as he could, whenever he
desired it, spend the whole afternoon with Hector.

Hector found it very pleasant to act upon the suggestion made by Mr.
Ross. He had visited the city of New York at different times, but had
never enjoyed the opportunity of exploring it by himself. His first
visit was made to Central Park, where he mingled with the crowds
wandering about in search of pleasure.

He made his way to the lake, and took passage in one of the skiffs
which, in charge of a skilled oarsman, makes a tour of the pretty and
picturesque sheet of water.

The second morning he turned his steps southward, and walked down
Broadway. It was a leisurely walk, for he had no scruple in stopping
wherever he saw anything in the streets or in the shop windows that
seemed to him worthy of attention. About the corner of Canal Street
he was very much surprised at a boy who was on his knees, blacking the
boots of an elderly gentleman--a boy whom he recognized at once as the
son of a man who had for years been in his father's employ as gardener
at Castle Roscoe.

"What brings him here?" thought Hector, much surprised.

"Larry Deane!" he said, as the boy finished his job, and rose from his
feet to receive his pay.

"Hector Roscoe!" exclaimed Larry, not much less surprised.

"What brings you here, and what has reduced you to such work?" inquired
Hector.

Larry Deane was a boy of about Hector's age. He was a healthy-looking
country lad, looking like many another farmer's son, fresh from
the country. He had not yet acquired that sharp, keen look which
characterizes, in most cases, the New York boy who has spent all his
life in the streets.

"I can answer both your questions with the same word, Master Hector,"
said Larry, as a sober look swept over his broad, honest face.

"Don't call me master, Larry. We are equals here. But what is that
word?"

"That word is trouble,'" answered the bootblack.

"Come with me into this side street," said Hector, leading the way into
Howard Street. "You have a story to tell, and I want to hear it."

"Yes, I have a story to tell."

"I hope your father and mother are well," said Hector, interrupting him.

"Yes, they are well in health, but they are in trouble, as I told you."

"What is the trouble?"

"It all comes of Mr. Allan Roscoe," answered Larry, "and his son, Guy."

"Tell me all about it."

"I was walking in the fiel