urned his attention from her to the chorus, but no
slight that he could inflict upon her now could take away the sweet
truth that she was engaged and to-morrow would begin work. She wished
she could go over and embrace Hattie Sterling. She thought kindly of
Joe, and promised herself to give him a present out of her first month's
earnings.

On the first night of the show pretty little Kitty Hamilton was pointed
out as a girl who would n't be in the chorus long. The mother, who was
soon to be Mrs. Gibson, sat in the balcony, a grieved, pained look on
her face. Joe was in a front row with some of the rest of the gang. He
took many drinks between the acts, because he was proud.

Mr. Thomas was there. He also was proud, and after the performance he
waited for Kitty at the stage door and went forward to meet her as she
came out. The look she gave him stopped him, and he let her pass without
a word.

"Who 'd 'a' thought," he mused, "that the kid had that much nerve? Well,
if they don't want to find out things, what do they come to N' Yawk for?
It ain't nobody's old Sunday-school picnic. Guess I got out easy,
anyhow."

Hattie Sterling took Joe home in a hansom.

"Say," she said, "if you come this way for me again, it 's all over,
see? Your little sister 's a comer, and I 've got to hustle to keep up
with her."

Joe growled and fell asleep in his chair. One must needs have a strong
head or a strong will when one is the brother of a celebrity and would
celebrate the distinguished one's success.

XIII

THE OAKLEYS

A year after the arrest of Berry Hamilton, and at a time when New York
had shown to the eyes of his family so many strange new sights, there
were few changes to be noted in the condition of affairs at the Oakley
place. Maurice Oakley was perhaps a shade more distrustful of his
servants, and consequently more testy with them. Mrs. Oakley was the
same acquiescent woman, with unbounded faith in her husband's wisdom and
judgment. With complacent minds both went their ways, drank their wine,
and said their prayers, and wished that brother Frank's five years were
past. They had letters from him now and then, never very cheerful in
tone, but always breathing the deepest love and gratitude to them.

His brother found deep cause for congratulation in the tone of these
epistles.

"Frank is getting down to work," he would cry exultantly. "He is past
the first buoyant enthusiasm of youth. Ah, Leslie, when a m