ly to oblige him.

He had succeeded better with the Jones family, and perhaps had learnt
prudence, for he had not begun by asking for the Rattler, but for the
respectable brother who had invited him out, and had thus learnt that the
destination of the emigrant was Toronto, where the elder brother was
employed on the _British Empress_, Ontario steamer. Mrs. Jones, the
mother, and her eldest son were decent people, and there was no reason to
think they were aware of the encumbrances that their scapegrace had taken
with him.

So Herbert had resolved, without delay, to make his way to Toronto; where
he hoped to find the child, and maybe, bring him back in a month's time.

'Only,' said Rose timidly, 'did you really mean what you said about
working your way out?'

'Well, Rose, that's the hitch. I had to pay up some bills after I got my
allowance, and unluckily I changed my bicycle, and the rascals put a lot
more on the new one, and I haven't got above seven pounds left, and I
must keep some for the rail from New York and for getting home, for I
can't take the kid home in the steerage. The bicycle's worth something,
and so is my watch, if I put them in pawn; so I think I can do it that
way, and I'm quite seaman enough to get employment, only I don't want to
lose time about it.'

'I was thinking,' said Rose shyly; 'they made me put into the Post Office
Savings Bank after I began to get a salary. I have five-and-twenty
pounds there that I could get out in a couple of days, and I should be so
glad to help to bring that dear little boy home.'

'Oh, Rose, you _are_ a girl! You see, you are quite safe not to lose it,
for my uncle would be only too glad to pay it back, even if I came to
grief any way, and it would make it all slick smooth. I would go to
Liverpool straight off, and cross in the first steamer, and the thing's
done. And can you get at it at once with nobody knowing?'

'Yes, I think so,' said Rose. 'My father asked to see my book when first
I came home, and he is not likely to do so again, till I can explain all
about it, and I am sure it cannot be wrong.'

'Wrong--no! Right as a trivet! Rose, Rose, if ever that poor child sees
his father and mother again, it is every bit your doing! No one can tell
what I think of it, or what my uncle and aunt will say to you! You've
been the angel in this, if Ida has been the other thing!'

But Rose found difficulties in the way of her angelic part, for her
father