to it any
further, Sampson, whatever you do."

CHAPTER V.

Soon after the departure of the two young men, the rest of the guests
left the Clays' house. There was no special run on the pawnshop that
night. Saturday night was the real night for business; then work went
on until far into the small hours of the morning, and Louisa was
obliged to turn to and help her father, but to-night there was nothing
to prevent her going to bed. She lit her candle in the hall, and
turned to say "good-night" to her parents.

"That's a likely young man wot came here to-night," said the mother.

"What young man?" asked Louisa, her eyes flashing.

"Why, Mr. Sampson; they say he's right well off. Don't you know who he
is, Loo?"

"No, that I don't," answered Louisa. "I never set eyes on him before.
I thought he was just a friend of Jim Hardy's. I thought it was Jim
you spoke of, mother, when you mentioned a likely young man."

"Oh, Jim! he's well enough," said Mrs. Clay. "I don't go for to deny
that 'e's handsome to look at, but my thought is this, 'andsome is as
'andsome does. Now, that young man Sampson, as you call him, will make
his fortin' some fine day. He's in the private detective line, and
your father says there aint a sharper man in the trade. A sharp
detective makes his fortin' in these days, no doubt on that p'int."

Louisa's face slightly lost its color; a puzzled expression, an almost
frightened look, crept into her eyes.

"So George Sampson is a detective," she said slowly; "a detective, and
he is a friend of Jim's. I wonder why he came here?"

"Why he come 'ere!" said the old woman. "Why do any young men come
'ere? Oh, we needn't say why; but we know. Good-night, child,
good-night."

"Good-night, mother," said the daughter.

She went upstairs to her own good-sized bedroom, just over the
pawnshop. She occupied the best bedroom in the house. She set her
candle on her chest of drawers now, and sat down where she could see
her handsome, striking-looking figure in the looking-glass. There was
a long glass in the door of her wardrobe, and there she could see her
reflection from head to foot. The red dress suited her well; it
accentuated the carmine in her cheeks, and brought out the brilliancy
of her eyes. She pushed back her mass of black hair from her low brow,
and gazed hard at her own image.

"Yes," she said to herself, "I am handsome. Ef I were a lady I'd be a
queen. I'm handsome enou