re
the only old friend he had to help him out of the labyrinth.

"When did she die?" asked Millard, motioning the young fellow to a
chair.

"Just now. I came straight away."

"Who is with your mother?"

"Miss Callender and a woman what lifs in the next room."

Millard mused a minute, his vagrant thoughts running far away from
Rudolph. Then recovering himself he said:

"Have you money enough for the funeral?"

"I haf fifteen dollars, already, that I haf been puttin' in the Germania
Spar Bank for such a trouble. I had more as that, but we haf had bad
luck. My uncle he will maybe lend me some more."

"What do you work at?"

"Mostly odd jobs. I had a place in a lumber-yard, but the man he failed
up already. I am hopin' that I shall get something more steady soon."

"It will be pretty hard for you to go in debt."

"Yes," with a rueful shrug. "But we're unlucky. Poor folks 'mos' always
is unlucky already."

"Well, now, you let me pay these expenses. Here's my card. Tell the
undertaker to send his bill to me. He can come to the bank and inquire
if he should think it not all right. But don't tell anybody about it."

"I thank you very much, very, very much, Mr. Millard; it will make my
mother feel a leetle better. And I will pay you wheneffer I haf the good
luck to get some money."

"Don't worry about that. Don't pay me till I ask you for it. Was Miss
Callender with you when your sister died?"

"Yes. Oh, yes; she is better as anybody I effer see."

Millard said no more, and Rudolph thanked him again, put on his cap, and
went out to try his luck at finding the door to the freight-elevator for
a descent from this lofty height to the dark caves of the
basement--vaulted caves with mazes of iron pipes of all sizes overhead,
the narrow passages beset by busy porters bearing parcels and trunks,
and by polyglot servants in dress-coats and white aprons running hither
and thither with trays balanced on their finger-tips and mostly quite
above replying to the questions of a bewildered intruder clad in
trousers of well-worn brown denim.

XXX.

PHILLIDA AND PHILIP.

Mrs. Gouverneur concluded not to try her clever hand on Millard and
Phillida again. Pessimistic Philip could no longer reproach her for
having blasted his hopes, for he had a new chance if he chose to improve
it. But to improve any opportunity seemed to be out of Philip's power,
except perhaps the opportunity to spend his last available dollars on