y to crack jokes on me. So I have to
crack a few.

"So that's why I act so fresh. Natcherly I'm as tame as though I wore a
velvet jacket and curls; it's just havin' to defend myself, that's made
me what I am," declared Scorch, shaking his head, mournfully, as he
prepared to eat his soup with much gusto.

"Oh, don't!" begged Nancy. "Don't make so much noise."

"That's so! I was thinkin' I was at Joe's, where I us'lly feeds," and
the boy proceeded to use his spoon with a proper regard for the niceties
of the table.

"There! I knew very well you knew how," said Nancy.

"But it hurts!" exclaimed Scorch, with a wicked grin.

"And that is never your real name?" asked Nancy, after a moment.

"'Scorch'?"

"Yes. It refers to your hair, I suppose."

"You're a clairvoyant, lady," said the boy. "I gotter real, sure-'nuff
name. But I forget it. My mother don't even remember it any more. But
'Scorch' don't just mean my color. It's because I'm some scorcher,"
proceeded the boy, with pride.

"There weren't any kids my size or age could outrun me at school--nix!
and I won a medal when I worked for the District Telegraph Company. I
was the one fast kid that ever rushed flimsies."

"What's _that_?" demanded Nancy, in wonder.

"Carried telegrams. But I couldn't stop there. The other kids pounded
the life pretty near out of me," he said, with perfect seriousness.

"Oh! why were they so mean?"

"'Cause I set 'em all a pace that they couldn't keep up with. So they
fired me out of the union, and then the boss fired me because I was
always all marred up from fighting the other kids. So I come to work at
that law shop."

Under advice from the knowing Scorch, Nancy had ordered the very nicest
little luncheon she had ever eaten. And the boy gave evidence of
enjoying it even more than she did.

Indeed, her appetite was soon satisfied; but Scorch kept her answering
questions about herself; and soon she found that she was being quite as
confidential with this red-headed office boy as she ever had been with
anybody in her life.

"Say! did it ever strike you that Old Gordon might be stringing you?"
demanded Scorch.

His slang puzzled the girl not a little; but the red-headed one
explained:

"Suppose he _did_ know all about you and your folks--only he didn't
want to tell?"

"But _why_?"

"Oh, ain't you green?" demanded Scorch. "Don't you see he might be
making money out of you? Mebbe there's a pile of money, and he's using