ttle headache," said the housekeeper, coldly.

"You had better do something for it."

"It will pass away of itself, sir."

They arose from the dinner table, and Mr. Wharton, followed by Frank,
ascended the staircase to the front room on the second floor, which was
handsomely fitted up as a library.

"What makes him take such notice of a mere cash-boy?" said Mrs. Bradley
to herself. "That boy reminds me of somebody. Who is it?"

CHAPTER VIII

AN UNEXPECTED ENGAGEMENT

"Take a seat, Frank," said Mr. Wharton, pointing to a luxurious armchair
on one side of the cheerful grate fire; "I will take the other, and you
shall tell me all about yourself."

"Thank you, sir," said our hero.

His confidence was won by Mr. Wharton's kind tone, and he briefly
recounted his story.

At the conclusion, Mr. Wharton said:

"How old are you, Frank?"

"Fourteen, sir."

"You are a brave boy, and a good boy, and you deserve success."

"Thank you, sir."

"But I am bound to say that you have a hard task before you."

"I know it, sir."

"Why not let your sister go to the poorhouse for a few years, till you
are older, and better able to provide for her?"

"I should be ashamed to do it, sir," he said. "I promised my mother to
take care of Grace, and I will."

"How much do you earn as a cash-boy?"

"Three dollars a week."

"Only three dollars a week! Why, that won't pay your own expenses!" said
the old gentleman in surprise.

"Yes, sir, it does. I pay fifty cents a week for my room, and my meals
don't cost me much."

"But you will want clothes."

"I have enough for the present, and I am laying up fifty cents a week to
buy more when I need them."

"You can't buy many for twenty-six dollars a year. But that doesn't
allow anything for your sister's expenses."

"That is what puzzles me, sir," said Frank, fixing a troubled glance
upon the fire. "I shall have to work in the evenings for Grace."

"What can you do?"

"I could copy, but I suppose there isn't much chance of getting copying
to do."

"Then you have a good handwriting?"

"Pretty fair, sir."

"Let me see a specimen. There are pen and ink on the table, and here is
a sheet of paper."

Frank seated himself at the table, and wrote his name on the paper.

"Very good," said his host, approvingly. "Your hand is good enough for a
copyist, but you are correct in supposing that work of that kind is hard
to get. Are you a good reader?"

"Do you mean in rea