re the Doctor arrived both mother and daughter were sleeping
quietly, and Danny found himself whispering the story of his life to
Miss Barstow, who, it seemed to him, had the kindest way of asking
questions and understanding what he told her of any person in the world.
The Doctor smiled when he came in at midnight and saw them, and Danny
blushed proudly when the lady told the Doctor that her messenger had
proved to be a good nurse and a very interesting companion.

The Doctor ordered Miss Barstow to go home, saying he would wait there
until the husband came. When Miss Barstow had paid Danny, she asked him
which way he was going. "I'm goin' to see you home, sure," Danny
answered, gallantly.

They had left the tenements, and were walking up Roosevelt Street, when
a man standing by a lamp-post stared at Danny, and then exclaimed:

"Oh, you little rascal! I've caught you at last! Come along home with
me," and he grabbed the boy roughly by the shoulder.

It was Danny's uncle. "You've got fine clothes, and are with a fine
lady, while your poor old uncle who had always given you a good honest
home is starving," he exclaimed.

Some men who had been lounging about the corner ran up, and Cahill
declared over and over to them that his boy had run away from an honest
home, and should be taken back and help to support his old uncle, who
was sick.

Danny, who had a notion that his uncle really had some sort of right
over him, was sick and disheartened at the prospect of going back to his
old life, but he had had his liberty too long to be willing to give it
up without a struggle. He was a stout youngster; his constant exercise
as a messenger-boy kept him in good physical condition, and he made a
good resistance to his uncle's efforts to drag him away.

As he was struggling, Miss Barstow ran to him and asked, "Is this the
man you told me of--your uncle?"

"Sure; dis is de mug, and he's no good," Danny answered, as he fought.

"Let that boy go," she said to Cahill, sternly.

"Not for you," responded Cahill, surlily.

Miss Barstow stepped to where the light fell on her face, and turning to
the crowd of men, said: "Some of you must know me. I want you to make
that man let this boy go."

"It's Miss Barstow," one of the men exclaimed. Then he added, "What you
say goes down here, lady, mostly, but not in this case. Cahill has a
right to the boy's wages. He's a good man, and the kid ain't going to
get no harm by going along wit