"I thought so till recently."

"Why don't you think so now?"

In answer, Hector told the story of the revelation made to him by Allan Roscoe, after his father's death.

"You see, therefore," he concluded, "that I am penniless, and a dependent upon Mr. Allan Roscoe's generosity."

"This is a most extraordinary story!" said the merchant, after a pause.

"Yes, sir; it changes my whole future."

"I suppose Mr. Allan Roscoe is the beneficiary, and the estate goes to him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did your father--the late Mr. Roscoe--ever hint to you anything which could lead you to suspect that you were not his own, but an adopted son?"

"Never, Mr. Ross," answered Hector, with emphasis.

"Did he continue to treat you with affection."

"Always. Nothing in his manner ever would have led me to imagine that I was not his own son."

"He left no will?"

"No, sir."

"What are your plans?"

"I do not wish to remain dependent upon Allan Roscoe. I should like to obtain a situation of some kind in the city, if I can."

"I can probably serve you, then, after a while. For the present, stay here as Walter's companion."

"Thank you, sir; I should like nothing better."

CHAPTER XXVII. LARRY DEANE.

Not altogether in accordance with his inclinations, Walter was set to work at his studies immediately under the direction of Mr. Crabb. He asked his father for a week's vacation to go about the city with Hector, but his father answered in the negative.

"You are too far behind in your studies, Walter," he said. "You are two years, at least, behind Hector, and cannot spare the time as well as he."

"Hector will have to go round alone," objected Walter.

"It will do him no harm to get acquainted with the different parts of the city, as that will be a kind of knowledge he may require if he should obtain a situation."

"I shan't see much of him."

"Oh, yes, you will; Mr. Crabb will not make you study all day. Mr.

Crabb, you may work with Walter from nine to one. This, with perhaps an hour or more devoted to study in the afternoon or evening, will enable him 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 pa.s.sage 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 Ca.n.a.l 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 fields one day," said Larry, "when Guy came out and began to order me round, and call me a clodhopper and other unlikely names, which I didn't enjoy. Finally he pulled off my hat, and when I put it back on my head, he pulled it off again. Finally I found the only way to do was to give him as good as he sent. So I pulled off his hat and threw it up in a tree. He became very angry, and ordered me to go up after it. I wouldn't do it, but walked away. The next day my father was summoned to the house, where Mr. Allan Roscoe complained of me for insulting his son. He asked my father to thrash me, and when father refused, he discharged him from his employment. A day or two afterward a new gardener came to Roscoe Castle, and father understood that there was no chance of his being taken back."

"That was very mean in Mr. Roscoe," said Hector, indignantly.