Hidden Hand. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

governor; there you are."

      "There! Where? Why that's a handsome street!" said Old Hurricane, gazing up in admiration at the opposite blocks of stately brown-stone mansions.

      "That's it, hows'ever! That's Rag Alley. 'Tain't called Rag Alley now, though! It's called Hifalutin Terrace! Them tenements you talk of were pulled down more'n a year ago and these houses put up in their place," said the newsboy.

      "Dear! dear! dear! what changes! And what became of the poor tenants?" asked Old Hurricane, gazing in dismay at the inroads of improvement.

      "The tenants? poor wretches! how do I know? Carted away, blown away, thrown away, with the other rubbish. What became of the tenants?

      "'Ask of the winds that far around

       With fragments strewed the sea-ty!'

      I heard that spouted at a school exhibition once, governor!" said the lad, demurely.

      "Humph! well, well well! the trace is lost! What shall I do?—put advertisements in all the daily papers—apply at the chief police office? Yes, I'll do both," muttered Old Hurricane to himself; then, speaking out, he called:

      "Boy!"

      "Yes, sir?"

      "Call me a cab!"

      "Yes, sir!" And the lad was off like an arrow to do his bidding.

      In a few moments the cab drove up. The newsboy, who was sitting beside the driver, jumped down and said:

      "Here it is, sir!"

      "Thank you, my son; here is your fee," said Old Hurricane, putting a silver dollar into the lad's hand.

      "What! Lor', it can't be I but it is! He must have made a mistake! What if he did, I don't care! Yes, I do, too! 'Honor bright!'" exclaimed the newsboy, looking in wonder and desire and sore temptation upon the largest piece of money he had ever touched in his life. "Governor!"

      "Well, boy?" said the old gentleman, with his feet upon the steps of the cab.

      "You've been and done and gone and give me a whole dollar by mistake!"

      "And why should you think it a mistake, you impertinent monkey?"

      "Your honor didn't mean it?"

      "Why not, you young rascal? Of course I did. Take it and be off with you!" said Old Hurricane, beginning to ascend the steps.

      "I'm a great mind to," said the newsboy, still gazing on the coin with satisfaction and desire—"I'm a great mind to; but I won't! 'tain't fair! Governor, I say!"

      "What now, you troublesome fellow?"

      "Do stop a minute! Don't tempt me too hard, 'cause, you see, I ain't sure I could keep honest if I was tempted too hard."

      "What do you mean now, you ridiculous little ape?"

      "I mean I know you're from the country, and don't know no better, and I mus'n't impose upon your ignorance."

      "My ignorance, you impudent villain!" exclaimed the old man, with rising wrath.

      "Yes, governor; you hain't cut your eye-teeth yet! you hain't up to snuff! you don't know nothing! Why, this is too much for toting a carpet-bag a half a dozen squares; and it's very well you fell in with a honest lad like me, that wouldn't impose on your innocence. Bless you, the usual price isn't more'n a dime, or, if you're rich and generous, a shillin'; but——"

      "What the deuce do I care for the usual price, you—you—you perfect prodigy of patches? There, for the Lord's sake, go get yourself a decent suit of clothes! Drive on, cabman!" roared Old Hurricane, flinging an eagle upon the sidewalk and rolling off in his cab.

      "Poor dear, old gentleman! I wonder where his keeper is? How could he have got loose? Maybe I'd better go and tell the police! But then I don't know who he is, or where he's gone! But he is very crazy, and I'm afraid he'll fling away every cent of his money before his friends can catch him. I know what I'll do. I'll go to the stand and watch for the cab to come back and ask the driver what he has done with the poor, dear old fellow!" said the newsboy, picking up the gold coin and putting it into his pocket. And then he started, but with an eye to business, singing out:

      "Herald! Triebune! Express! last account of the orful accident—steamer," etc., etc., etc., selling his papers as he went on to the cab-stand. He found the cabman already there. And to his anxious inquiries as to the sanity of the old gentleman, that Jehu replied:

      "Oh, bless your soul, crazy? No; no more'n you or I. He's a real nob—a real Virginian, F. F. V., with money like the sands on the seashore! Keep the tin, lad; he knowed what he was a-doin' on."

      "Oh, it a'most scares me to have so much money!" exclaimed the boy, half in delight, half in dismay; "but to-night I'll have a warm supper and sleep in a bed once more! And to-morrow a new suit of clothes! So here goes—Herald! Express!—full account—the horrible murder—Bell Street—Ledgee-ee-ee," etc., etc., etc., crying his papers until he was out of hearing.

      Never in his life had the newsboy felt so prosperous and happy.

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

THE DISCOVERY.

       Table of Contents

      "And at the magistrate's command,

       And next undid the leathern band

       That bound her tresses there,

       And raised her felt hat from her head,

       And down her slender form there spread

       Black ringlets rich and rare."

      Old Hurricane meanwhile dined at the public table at the Astor, and afterward went to his room to rest, smoke and ruminate. And he finished the evening by supping and retiring to bed.

      In the morning, after an early breakfast, he wrote a dozen advertisements and called a cab and rode around to leave them with the various daily papers for immediate publication. Then, to lose no time, he rode up to the Recorder's office to set the police upon the search.

      As he was about to enter the front portal he observed the doorway and passage blocked up with even a larger crowd than usual.

      And seeing the cabman who had waited upon him the preceding day, he inquired of him:

      "What is the matter here?"

      "Nothing, your honor, 'cept a boy tuk up for wearing girl's clothes, or a girl tuk up for wearing boy's, I dunno which," said the man, touching his hat.

      "Let me pass, then; I must speak to the chief of police," said Old Hurricane, shoving his way into the Recorder's room.

      "This is not the office of the chief, sir; you will find him on the other side of the hall," said a bystander.

      But before Old Hurricane had gathered the sense of these words, a sight within the office drew his steps thither. Up before the Recorder stood a lad of about thirteen years, who, despite his smart, new suit of gray casinet, his long, rolling, black ringlets and his downcast and blushing face, Old Hurricane immediately recognized as his acquaintance, of the preceding day, the saucy young tatterdemalion.

      Feeling sorry for the friendless boy, the old man impulsively went up to him and patted him on the shoulder, saying:

      "What! In trouble, my lad? Never mind; never look down! I'll warrant ye an honest lad from what I've seen myself. Come! come! pluck up a spirit! I'll see you through, my lad."

      "'Lad!' Lord bless your soul, sir, he's no more a lad than you or I! The young rascal is a girl in boy's clothes, sir!" said the officer who had the