He thought over the situation, and then started for his boarding-house, satisfied that it would do no good to search farther for the book-keeper that night.

As has been mentioned, the boarding-house was up in Tenth Street. Hal soon walked the distance, and, getting out his night-key, he let himself in.

He was about to ascend to his room, and wash up a bit before going to supper, when the sounds of voices broke upon his ear, coming from the parlor.

"And he has your place, d.i.c.k?" he heard Mrs. Ricket, the boarding mistress say.

"Yes, he has, Aunt Amanda," returned the voice of d.i.c.k Ferris.

"It's too bad."

"How did you come to allow the tramp in the house?"

"He paid in advance, d.i.c.k, and he appeared to be a very nice young fellow."

"Nice!"

"Yes. What is wrong about him?"

"He was brought up in a poor-house."

"Who said so?"

"Never mind, I know it for a fact."

"Well, even that wouldn't make him a bad boy."

"But you don't want any tramps around here, do you?"

"He isn't a tramp so long as he works and pays his board."

"You say he paid in advance?"

"Yes, for one week. He said he would pay two, if I wished it."

"Then you can make sure there is something wrong about him. Better look out for your silverware."

Mrs. Ricket laughed.

"A robber would never make much out of what little I possess, d.i.c.k," she replied.

"Still, you wouldn't want to lose it."

"I'll trust Carson."

"Well, have your own way. He's a tramp, and I don't want anything to do with him."

"What makes you so down on him?"

"Didn't I tell you he took my place away from me?"

"How could he do that? I am sure Mr. Sumner would have kept you at work, if you had done right."

"Didn't I do right?" bl.u.s.tered d.i.c.k Ferris.

"Hardly."

"What was wrong?"

"You wouldn't get up the day before yesterday, although I called you twice."

"Well, I was to a sparring match the night before, and I was tired out."

"You should have stayed at home, d.i.c.k."

"Huh! you don't want a fellow to have any fun!" growled the boy.

"Oh, yes I do, but not the kind that is going to lose you your place.

What do you intend to do, now?"

"Oh, I'll find something else to do," replied Ferris, in a careless fashion.

"I cannot support you in idleness, even if you are my dead sister's son," went on Mrs. Ricket. "You haven't paid me any board now in eight weeks."

"Only six, Aunt Amanda."

"No, it is eight. I have it on my account book. I don't see why you let it run, it is so little, only three dollars a week. That Carson pays me five, and he has not so good a room."

"There goes that Carson again," stormed d.i.c.k Ferris. "I don't want to hear a word more. He's a tramp and a thief and you'll be sorry you took him in before a great while."

With this speech on his lips, d.i.c.k Ferris walked across the parlor, threw open the door--and confronted Hal.

CHAPTER VIII.

FELIX HARDWICK IS ASTONISHED.

d.i.c.k Ferris started back on catching sight of Hal, who stood on the bottom step of the stairs.

"You!"

"Yes, d.i.c.k Ferris," returned Hal, coolly. "And let me say that I overheard your conversation with Mrs. Ricket, your aunt."

Ferris changed color.

"Been playing the spy, eh?" he sneered.