only a little for you and putting the rest of it in his pocket?"

"Oh, I don't believe Mr. Gordon would do such an awful thing," gasped
Nancy, shaking her head vigorously.

"Well, they do it to heiresses in stories," returned Scorch, doggedly.
"And worse."

"But I don't believe it."

"That's all right--that's all right," said the boy. "You're not supposed
to believe it. You're the heroine; they never believe anything but
what's all nice and proper," urged Scorch. "You lemme alone. I'm goin'
to watch Gordon. If he's up to something foxy, I'll find it out. Then
I'll write to you. Say! where's this jail they're goin' to put you in?"

"It's no jail," laughed Nancy, immensely amused, after all, by this
romantic and slangy youth. "It's a beautiful school. It's Pinewood Hall.
It's at Clintondale, on Clinton River. And it's very select."

"It's what?"

"Select. It costs a lot of money to go there. The girls are very nice."

"All right. You can get a letter, just the same; can't you?"

"Why--I suppose so. I--I never _did_ receive a letter--not one."

"All right. You'll get one from me," promised Scorch, with assurance.
"If I find out anything about Old Gordon that looks like we was on his
trail, I'll let you know."

"That's very nice of you," replied Nancy, demurely, but quite amused.
"Now, have you finished, Scorch?"

"Full up," declared the youngster. "The gangplank's ashore and we're
ready to sail--if we ain't overloaded," and he got up from his chair
with apparent difficulty.

Nancy had paid the bill and tipped the waiter. She had a good bit of the
ten dollars left to slip back in her pocketbook; but she reserved a
crisp dollar-bill where it would be handy.

They had plenty of time to walk to the station, and Nancy was glad to do
this. Besides, Scorch declared he needed the exercise.

The red-headed boy was a mixture of good-heartedness and mischievousness
that both delighted Nancy and horrified her. He was saucy to policemen,
truckmen, and anybody who undertook to treat him carelessly on the
street. But he aided his charge very carefully over all the crossings,
and once ran back into the middle of the street and held up traffic to
pick up an old woman's parcel.

They came to the station, got Nancy's bag, and Scorch insisted upon
taking her to the very step of the car. When she shook hands with him
Nancy had the banknote ready and she left it in his hand.

Before she got up the steps, however, he ran back