k, with quick sympathy.

"No. -- East Fourteenth street," answered Johnny. "I know, because I
live in the same block."

"I'll go and see him."

Frank's heart was not hardened by his own prosperity. He knew what it
was to be poor, and could enter into the feelings of the unfortunate
telegraph boy.

Half an hour found him in front of a large tenement-house, in front of
which were playing children of all ages, most of them showing in their
faces that unhealthy pallor which so generally marks a tenement-house
population.

"Do you know where Mrs. Brady lives?" asked Frank of a girl of twelve.

"Which Brady is it?" asked the girl. "There's three lives here."

"It's Tom Brady's mother," answered our hero.

"Is it Tom, the telegraph boy?"

"Yes."

"I'll show you then. Tom's been sick for some time."

"I know it. I have come to see him."

"Do you know Tom?" asked the girl, in some surprise; for Frank, having
laid aside his uniform, was handsomely dressed, and looked like the son
of a rich man.

"Yes, Tom is a friend of mine. I am sorry he's sick."

Up two flights of rickety stairs Frank followed the girl, who halted
before a door.

"That's the place," said his young guide, and disappeared down the
stairs, sliding down the banisters. Young ladies in the best society do
not often indulge in this amusement, but Mary Murphy knew little of
etiquette or conventionality.

In answer to Frank's knock, the door was opened by Mrs. Brady, a poorly
clad and care-worn woman.

"What is your wish, young gentleman?" she said.

"I've come to see Tom. How is he?"

"Do you know my Tom?" asked Mrs. Brady, in surprise.

"Yes; is he very sick?"

"The poor boy has got a fever."

"Can I see him?"

"If you'll come into such a poor place, sir. We're very poor, and now
that Tom's wages is stopped I don't know how we'll get along at all."

"Better than you think, perhaps, Mrs. Brady," said Frank, cheerfully.
"Why, Tom, what made you get sick?"

He had entered the room, and reached the bed on which the sick boy was
lying.

Tom looked up in surprise and pleasure.

"Is it you, Frank?" he said. "I'm glad you've come to see me. But how
did you find me out?"

"Johnny O'Connor told me where you lived. How long have you been sick?"

"Three days. It's rough on a poor boy like me. I ought to be earning
money for my mother."

"We'll miss Tom's wages badly," said Mrs. Brady; "I can't earn much
myself, and there's three of us to