at his breakfast. While he was thus
engaged, Joe Flint, the ostler, happened to see him.

"That is cold comfort," said he. "Why don't you go to the tavern and
have your breakfast like a gentleman?"

"I can't afford it," replied Harry.

"Can't afford it? How much did the man that owned the pocketbook give
you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing! I'm blamed if he ain't a mean one!" exclaimed Joe, heartily.
"I don't wonder you run away."

"I didn't want anything. I was too glad to get clear of him to think
of anything else."

"Next time he loses his pocketbook, I hope he won't find it."

And with this charitable observation, Joe resumed his labors. Harry
finished his meal, washed it down with a draught of cold water at the
pump, and was ready for business again. Unfortunately, there was no
business ready for him. All day long he wandered about the streets in
search of employment; but people did not appreciate his value. No one
would hire him or have anything to do with him. The five patches on
his clothes, he soon discovered, rendered it useless for him to apply
at the stores. He was not in a condition to be tolerated about one of
these; and he turned his attention to the market, the stables, and the
teaming establishments, yet with no better success. It was in vain
that he tried again; and at night, weary and dispirited, he returned
to Major Phillips's stable.

His commissariat was not yet exhausted; and he made a hearty supper
from the basket. It became an interesting question for him to
consider how he should pass the night. He could not afford to pay one
of his quarters for a night's lodging at the tavern opposite. There
was the stable, however, if he could get permission to sleep there.

"May I sleep in the hay loft, Joe?" he asked, as the ostler passed
him.

"Major Phillips don't allow any one to sleep in the hay loft; but
perhaps he will let you sleep there. He was asking about you to-day."

"How should he know anything about me?" said Harry, not a little
surprised to find his fame had gone before him.

"He heard about the pocketbook, and wanted to see you. He said it was
the meanest thing he ever heard of, that the man who lost it didn't
give you anything; and them's my sentiments exactly. Here comes the
major; I will speak to him about you."

"Thank you, Joe."

"Major Phillips, this boy wants to know if he may sleep in the hay
loft to-night."

"No," replied the stable keeper, short as pie crust.

"This