fectly well for a mischievous young scamp who
was up to no good. She didn't stop to consider anything; but with those
words, "If yer don't want ter be locked up," ringing in her ears, she
turned and ran from the station-building as fast as her legs could carry
her. As she came out upon the sidewalk, she saw the colored lights of a
street car. Oh, joy, it was the very up-town car that would take her
close to Beacon Street! But oh, horror! She suddenly recollected that
Uncle John no longer lived on Beacon Street. He had moved last month
into a new house on Marlborough Street, and oh, what _was_ the number?
She "had heard Uncle Tom read it from a letter. It had a lot of 9's in
it. Nine hundred and--why--99--999, three 9's; yes, yes, that was it;"
and with this conviction, Ally gave a hop skip and a jump into the car,
just as it was about to start off, for this very car she knew would take
her nearer to Marlborough Street than to Beacon Street. Her spirits rose
as she felt herself carried along; and in due time she found the three
9's, and tripped up the steps of the house in Marlborough Street bearing
that number. Her heart beat very fast with a sense of relief and injury,
mixed with a certain elation at her own enterprise, as she rang the
bell. Wouldn't they be surprised, and wouldn't Uncle John--But some one
opening the door scattered her questioning thoughts; and--why, who was
this somebody? It must be a new servant with the new house, and a
manservant too. Uncle John must be getting better off,--they had had
only two maids before. It never entered Ally's head to ask the strange
servant if Mr. Fleming lived there. Why should she ask what she was so
sure of? She simply asked, "Where's Uncle John and Aunt Kate and the
rest of them?"

The man looked bewildered, and repeated, "Uncle John?"

"Yes, Uncle John and Aunt Kate. I'm Ally, and Uncle John telegraphed
that he would meet me at the five-o'clock train, and he wasn't there,
and I came up all alone. Where are they? In the parlor?" and Ally
stepped in over the threshold.

"I guess there's some mistake," said the man; "I guess your uncle
John--"

"No, there wasn't any mistake, for he telegraphed to Uncle Tom. He must
have forgotten."

"But your uncle doesn't--"

"What is it, James? What is wanted?" interrupted some one here. The
"some one" was a big, tall gentleman coming down the stairs, whom Ally,
as she looked up in the rather confusing half light of the lower hal