"How old was the little girl?" asked Walter.

"Four years old, I should think."

"That isn't quite so romantic as if she had been three times as old."

"I couldn't have rescued her quite as easily, in that case."

Of course, Hector was called upon for an account of the affair, which he gave plainly, without adding any of those embellishments which some boys, possibly some of my young readers, might have been tempted to put in.

"You are fortunate to have obliged a man like t.i.tus Newman, Hector,"

said Mr. Ross. "He is a man of great wealth and influence."

"Do you know him, papa?" asked Walter.

"No--that is, not at all well. I have been introduced to him."

Punctually at eight o'clock Hector ascended the steps of a handsome residence on Madison Avenue. The door was opened by a colored servant, of imposing manners.

"Is Mr. Newman at home?" asked Hector, politely.

"Yes, sar."

"Be kind enough to hand him this card?"

"Yes, sar."

Presently the servant reappeared, saying:

"Mr. Newman will see you, sar, in the library. I will induct you thither."

"Thank you," answered Hector, secretly amused at the airs put on by his sable conductor.

Seated at a table, in a handsomely furnished library, sat a stout gentleman of kindly aspect. He rose quickly from his armchair and advanced to meet our hero.

"I am glad to see you, my young friend," he said. "Sit there," pointing to a smaller armchair opposite. "So you are the boy who rescued my dear little girl?"

His voice softened as he uttered these last few words, and it was easy to see how strong was the paternal love that swelled his heart.

"I was fortunate in having the opportunity, Mr. Newman."

"You have rendered me a service I can never repay. When I think that but for you the dear child--" his voice faltered.

"Don't think of it, Mr. Newman," said Hector, earnestly. "I don't like to think of it myself."

"And you exposed yourself to great danger, my boy!"

"I suppose I did, sir; but that did not occur to me at the time. It was all over in an instant."

"I see you are modest, and do not care to take too great credit to yourself, but I shall not rest till I have done something to express my sense of your n.o.ble courage. Now, I am a man of business, and it is my custom to come to the point directly. Is there any way in which I can serve you."

"Yes, sir."

"I am glad to hear it. Name it."

"I am looking for a situation in some mercantile establishment, Mr.

Newman."

"Pardon me, but, judging from your appearance, I should not suppose that it was a matter of importance to you."

"Yes, sir; I am poor."

"You don't look so."

"You judge from my dress, no doubt"--Hector was attired in a suit of fine texture--"I suppose I may say," he added, with a smile, "that I have seen better days."

"Surely, you are young to have met with reverses, if that is what you mean to imply," the merchant remarked, observing our hero with some curiosity.

"Yes, sir; if you have time, I will explain to you how it happened."

As the story has already been told, I will not repeat Hector's words.

Mr. Newman listened with unaffected interest.

"It is certainly a curious story," he said. "Did you, then, quietly surrender your claims to the estate simply upon your uncle's unsupported a.s.sertion?"

"I beg pardon, sir. He showed me my father's--that is, Mr.

Roscoe's--letter."

"Call him your father, for I believe he was."

"Do you, sir?" asked Hector, eagerly.

"I do. Your uncle's story looks like an invention. Let me think, was your father's name Edward Roscoe?"

"Yes, sir."

"And in what year were you born?"

"In the year 1856."

"At Sacramento?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I feel quite sure that I made your father's acquaintance in the succeeding year, and your own as well, though you were an infant--that is, you were less than a year old."

"Did my father say anything of having adopted me?"

"No; on the contrary, he repeatedly referred to you as his child, and your mother also displayed toward you an affection which would have been at least unusual if you had not been her own child."