e house where he lived. After some trouble she
learned that her guardian had left town for over Sunday. She was told
where he had gone; but Ruth did not feel it would be right to disturb
him at a distance about Neale's affairs.

"Whom shall I turn to for help?" thought Ruth. "Who will advise us?
Above all, who will stop this man Sorber from taking Neale away?"

She had a reckless idea of trying to meet Neale on the road and warn
him. He could hide--until Mr. Howbridge got back, at least.

Perhaps she could catch Neale at the cobbler's house. And then, at
thought of the queer little old Irishman, all Ruth's worry seemed to
evaporate. Mr. Con Murphy was the man to attend to this matter. And to
the cobbler's little cottage she immediately made her way.

The story she told the little Irishman made him drop the shoe he was at
work upon and glare at her over his spectacles, and with his scant
reddish hair ruffled up. This, with his whiskers, made him look like a
wrathful cockatoo.

"Phat's that?" he cried, at last. "Take Neale O'Neil to a dirthy
circus-show and make him do thricks, like a thrained pig, or a goose, or
a--a--a naygur man from the Sahara Desert? NOT MUCH,SAYS CON!"

He leaped up and tore off his leather apron.

"The ormadhoun! I'd like a brush wid him, mesilf. Con Murphy takes a
hand in this game. We nade no lawyer-body--not yit. Lave it to me, Miss
Ruthie, acushla! Sure I'll invite mesilf to supper wid youse, too. I'll
come wid Neale, and he shall be prepared beforehand. Be sure he comes
here first. Never weep a tear, me dear. I'll fix thim circus people."

"Oh, Mr. Murphy! can you help us? Are you sure?" cried Ruth.

"Never fear! never fear!" returned the cobbler. "Lave it to me. Whin Con
Murphy takes a hand in any game, he knows what he's about. And there's
more than two sides to this mather, Miss Ruth. Belike thim fellers want
Neale for the money he makes for them. Hear me, now! Before I'd lit thim
take him back to that show, I'd spind ivry penny I've got buried in the
ould sock in--Well, niver mind where," concluded the excited cobbler.

But where was Ruth to find Neale O'Neil? That was the question that
faced the oldest Corner House girl as she turned away from the door of
the little cobbler's shop. She feared right now that the boy might have
returned to town and stopped at the Corner House to give the children a
ride before returning to the stable the horses he drove.

For Neale O'Neil was ver