e mad, or he wishes to rob Miss Tippet's house in her absence."

Willie admitted that the first supposition might be true, but he held
stoutly that the second was impossible, for Boone was too honest for
that. They conversed for some time on this point, and both came
ultimately to the conclusion that the thing was incomprehensible and
mysterious, and that it ought to be watched and inquired into. Willie,
moreover, said he would go and consult his friend Barret about it.

"You know Barret, Frank?"

"No; but I have heard of him."

"Ah, he's a first-rate fellow--in one of the insurance offices--I forget
which. I came to know him when I first went to Mr Tippet's. He lived
then in the floor below us with a drunken companion whom he was anxious
to reclaim; but he found him so hard to manage that he at last left him,
and went to live in Hampstead. He and I became great friends when he
lived under our workshop. He got married two years ago, and I have not
seen much of him since, but he's a sharp fellow, and knows a good deal
more of the Tippets than I was aware of. I'll go and see if he can
throw any light on this subject."

"The next point," pursued Willie, "is Cattley the clown. Have you seen
or heard of him lately?"

Frank said he had not.

"Well, I am greatly troubled about him. He has become a regular
drunkard, and leads his poor daughter a terrible life. He is so broken
down with dissipation that he can scarcely procure employment anywhere.
His son is fortunately a pretty decent fellow, though somewhat wild, and
helps in a small way to support his father, having obtained a situation
as clown at one of the minor theatres. The daughter, Ziza, has long ago
given up the profession, and has been struggling to maintain herself and
her father by painting fire-screens, and making artificial flowers; but
the work is severe and ill paid, and I see quite well that if the poor
girl is not relieved in some way she will not be able to bear up."

"I grieve to hear this, Willie," said Frank, "but how comes it that you
take so great an interest in these people?"

"Frank," said Willie, assuming a tone of deep seriousness, while a glow
suffused his cheeks, "can you keep a secret?"

"I think so, lad; at least I promise to try."

"Well, then," said Willie, "I love Ziza Cattley. I knew her first as a
fairy, I know her now as a woman who is worthy of a place among the
angels, for none but those who know her well and have