u that man's son?"

"I believe I am."

"And you have never heard from your father?"

"Not a word."

"That is hard on you."

"I am going to look for my father some day."

"If so, I hope you will find him."

"So do I." Joe arose. "I must be going." He paused. "Mrs. Cullum, will
you let me help you?" he added, earnestly.

"Why, you have helped me a good deal already. Not one in a thousand
would do what you have done--after the way my husband treated you."

"I thought that you might be short of money."

"I must confess I am."

"I am not rich but, if you can use it, I can let you have five dollars."

"I'll accept it as a loan. I don't want you to give me the money,"
answered the poor woman. She thought of the things she absolutely
needed, now that her husband was gone.

The money was handed over, and a few minutes later Joe took his
departure. Somehow his heart felt very light because of his generosity.
He had certainly played the part of a friend in need.

But he did not stop there. Early in the morning he sought out Andrew
Mallison and told the hotel proprietor of Mrs. Cullum's condition.

"I was thinking that you might be able to give her work in the hotel
laundry," he continued.

The hotel man called up the housekeeper and from her learned that
another woman could be used to iron.

"You can let her come and we'll give her a trial," said he.

It did not take Joe long to communicate with the poor woman, and she was
overjoyed to see work in sight, without waiting for an advertisement in
the newspaper.

"I'll go at once," said she. "I'll get a neighbor's girl to mind the
children." And she was as good as her word. As it happened, she proved
to be a good laundress, and Mr. Mallison gave her steady employment
until her husband came from jail. Then, much to his wife's satisfaction,
Sam Cullum turned over a new leaf and became quite sober and
industrious.

Joe was now becoming well acquainted around the hotel and took an
interest in many of the boarders.

Among the number was a young man named Felix Gussing. He was a nice
individual in his way, but had certain peculiarities. One was that he
was exceedingly afraid of horses and at every possible opportunity he
gave them as wide a berth as possible.

"Don't like them at all, don't you know," he said, to Joe, during a boat
ride. "Can't understand them at all."

"Oh, I think a good horse is very nice," answered our hero.

"But they are so--so balkish-