icago audience.
He had, to be sure, been favorably received in Harrisburg, but he had an
idea that in a larger city it would be more difficult to achieve
success. The first night undeceived him. He received a liberal share of
applause, and was called before the curtain.

"I congratulate you, Bert," said Mr. Pearson. "You seem to have made
yourself solid with the audience."

"I am glad that I give satisfaction," returned Bert. "It will encourage
me to do better."

"You had better adopt the profession of an actor," continued his friend.

Bert shook his head.

"I prefer to enter a business of some kind," he said. "Though I have
succeeded in one part, I am not sure that I should succeed in others."

Bert was about leaving the theatre that night when the call boy brought
him a card.

"There is a gentleman at the door would like to see you," he said.

Bert glanced at the card, and found it bore the name of

HIRAM FRENCH.

It was a name he had never before heard, and when he reached the door he
looked inquiringly at the middle-aged gentleman who stood before him.

"You are young Barton?" said the visitor.

"Yes; that is my name."

"Are you the son of John Barton, who once worked in the shoe factory of
Weeks Brothers?"

"Yes, sir," answered Bert, coloring, for he knew that the stranger must
be aware that his father was resting under a criminal charge.

"I thought I could not be mistaken. You look as your father did at your
age."

"Then you knew my father as a boy?" said Bert, eagerly.

"I was a schoolmate of his. Later on I was employed in the same factory
with him--that of Weeks Brothers."

"Did you know under what circumstances he left the factory?" asked Bert,
with some embarrassment.

"Yes, I knew all about it. But I want you to come home and pass the
night at my house, and we will talk over that and other matters."

"Thank you, sir. I will give notice to a friend who rooms with me."

Bert found Mr. Pearson, and informed him that he would absent himself
for one night from Mrs. Shelby's boarding-house. Then he returned to
Mr. French.

"I live on Indiana Avenue," explained the latter. "We shall find a car
at the corner of State and Madison Streets."

As they walked to the car, Bert's new friend asked: "How long have you
been on the stage, Mr. Barton?"

"Only two weeks."

"You don't mean that that comprises your whole experience."

"Yes. I stepped in at Harrisburg to supply the place of a yo