r there's somebody over there that looks as if he wanted to buy
something."

"Who is that boy?" asked the nurse, abruptly.

"His name is Charlie Fitts."

"Where did you get acquainted with him?"

"He went to school with Jack, so I used to see him sometimes."

"With Jack?"

"Yes, Brother Jack. Don't you know him?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot. So he's a schoolmate of Jack?"

"Yes, and he's a first-rate boy," said Ida, with whom the young apple
merchant was evidently a favorite. "He's good to his mother. You see,
his mother is sick most of the time, and can't work much; and he's got a
little sister--she ain't more than four or five years old--and Charlie
supports them by selling things. He's only sixteen years old; isn't he a
smart boy?"

"Yes," said the nurse, indifferently.

"Sometime," continued Ida, "I hope I shall be able to earn something for
father and mother, so they won't be obliged to work so hard."

"What could you do?" asked the nurse, curiously.

"I don't know as I can do much yet," answered Ida, modestly; "but
perhaps when I am older I can draw pictures that people will buy."

"Have you got any of your drawings with you?"

"No, I didn't bring any."

"I wish you had. The lady we are going to see would have liked to see
some of them."

"Are we going to see a lady?"

"Yes; didn't your mother tell you?"

"Yes, I believe she said something about a lady that was interested in
me."

"That's the one."

"And shall we come back to New York to-night?"

"No; it wouldn't leave us any time to stay."

"West Philadelphia!" announced the conductor.

"We have arrived," said the nurse. "Keep close to me. Perhaps you had
better take hold of my hand."

As they were making their way slowly through the crowd, the young apple
merchant came up with his basket on his arm.

"When are you going back, Ida?" he asked.

"Mrs. Hardwick says not till to-morrow."

"Come, Ida," said the nurse, sharply. "I can't have you stopping all day
to talk. We must hurry along."

"Good-by, Charlie," said Ida. "If you see Jack, just tell him you saw
me."

"Yes, I will," was the reply.

"I wonder who that woman is with Ida?" thought the boy. "I don't like
her looks much. I wonder if she's any relation of Mr. Harding. She looks
about as pleasant as Aunt Rachel."

The last-mentioned lady would hardly have felt flattered at the
comparison.

Ida looked about her with curiosity. There was a novel sensation in
being in a new p