ot out, he said, "Thank you all for
taking my part."

"We don't quite deserve that," said one of the passengers, after Frank
had left the car. "I was at first of opinion that the boy was guilty."

"We have been saved from doing a great injustice," said the clergyman.
"It should be a lesson to all of us not to be too hasty in our
judgments."

James Haynes in his hurried exit from the car fully believed that he
would be pursued and arrested. He was relieved to find his fears
groundless. But he was disappointed at the failure of his scheme. He had
carefully prepared it, and for several days he had been in readiness to
carry it into execution whenever he should meet Frank. This morning had
brought the opportunity; but it had miscarried.

"But for that cursed detective I would have carried the thing through,"
he muttered. "He spoiled all. I _hate_ that boy!"

But, though revengeful, Haynes was prudent. He gave up the thought of
injuring Frank because he saw that it would be dangerous to himself. He
did not remain long in New York, but soon joined his confederate in
Hartford.

CHAPTER XXVII.

FRANK BECOMES A GOOD SAMARITAN.

The close of the month came, and Frank laid aside his uniform. He was a
telegraph boy no more.

The superintendent shook hands with him cordially, and bade him good-by.

"Come and see us sometimes," he said. "I wish you all success. Your
services have been very satisfactory, and you have gained an excellent
reputation."

"Thank you, sir," said Frank. "I have tried to do my duty. Good-by,
boys!"

He shook hands with all his young comrades, with whom he was very
popular. They knew of his good fortune, and were disposed to regard him
as very rich. Six thousand dollars in a boy's eyes is a fortune.

"Now you're rich, Frank, I suppose you won't notice the likes of us,"
said Johnny O'Connor.

"I hope you don't think as badly of me as that, Johnny," said Frank,
earnestly. "I am not rich; but, even if I were, I should always be glad
to meet any of you. If I am ever able to do a favor to any of you I
will."

"I believe you, Frank," said Johnny. "You was always a good feller."

"Where's Tom Brady?" asked Frank, looking about him. "Is he out on an
errand?"

"Tom's sick," said the superintendent. "He's got a fever."

"It's bad for him," said Johnny, "for his mother and sister depended on
Tom's wages. Poor Tom felt bad because he had to give up work."

"Where does he live?" asked Fran