school think it's so odd. I'm just Miss Nobody
from Nowhere. And they've all got folks."

"Gee!" observed Scorch, getting a new idea of the situation.

They reached the door of the fashionable restaurant and Scorch led the
way in with characteristic _sang froid_. He would have approached a
king or an emperor with perfect ease. Nothing ever "feazed" him, as he
was wont to boast.

The head-waiter looked a little askance at the red-headed office boy;
but Nancy, in her neat outfit, reassured him, and he led them to a table
and drew out the chair for the girl.

"Bring us a couple of time-tables so we can pick our eats," ordered
Scorch.

"Hush!" commanded Nancy, blushing a little. "Other people will hear
you."

"That's what I talk for," declared the unabashed boy.

"Well, now you're going to be a real nice boy while you're with me;
aren't you? They might take you for my brother, and I wouldn't want to
be ashamed of your manners."

"That's a hot one!" observed Scorch, admiringly. "You're not so slow
after all, Nancy."

"_Miss_ Nancy, please," corrected the girl, smiling at him.

"Say! but you are particular."

"I believe you know how to conduct yourself much better than you
appear," said the girl, looking at him seriously.

"Discovered!" mocked the red-haired one, grinning. "But it's hard work
to be proper."

"Why?"

"Because of my hair."

"Your hair?"

"Yep."

"I don't see what--what light-colored hair has to do with your manners,"
confessed Nancy.

"'Light-colored'--I like that!" exclaimed Scorch. "Trying to let me down
easy--eh?"

"We-ell----"

"It's red. Say! nobody's ever let me forget it since I could creep,"
declared the boy. "I useter lick all the boys I could at Number Six
school, an' those that I couldn't lick I throwed stones at. For calling
my hair out o' name, I mean."

"I suppose being red-headed _is_ hard," commented Nancy.

"Say! bein' an heiress without no folks ain't in it with being a
carrot-top," said Scorch, grinning.

"Don't you think so?"

"The folks in the office began getting fresh right away," went on the
boy, earnestly. "Some of the girls that run the typewriters was as bad
as the Willy-boys, too. They'd come up and try warming their hands over
my head, an' all those back-number jokes.

"So I had ter give 'em better than they sent, or they'd have put it all
over me. Men that come in to see the boss, or Old Gordon, or the others,
see my fiery top-knot, and they tr