atisfaction.

It seemed to show such a good understanding between Dick and his
employer that he perceived that it would be a very difficult thing to
supersede him.

"Mr. Rockwell seems to be infatuated with that boy," he muttered to
himself.

"I think I won't resign just yet," said Dick, in a low voice, to the
book-keeper.

"You'll be found out some day," said Gilbert, snappishly. "Go to the
post-office, and mind you don't stop to play on the way."

Dick started on his errand, and, in passing out into the street,
encountered Roswell Crawford, who, attired with extra care, had just
come down the street from Broadway. On seeing Dick, he started as if he
had seen a ghost.

"Good-morning, Roswell," said Dick, pleasantly.

"Good-morning," said Roswell, stiffly.

"Your cousin is in the counting-room. I am in a hurry, and must leave
you."

"I thought he was on his way to the Island by this time," thought
Roswell, perplexed. "What can it mean?"

It occurred to him all at once that Dick might just have been
discharged, and this thought cheered him up considerably. He entered the
counting-room with a jaunty step.

"Good-morning, Cousin James," he said.

Gilbert turned round, and said, in a surly tone, "You may as well take
yourself off. There's no chance for you here."

"Hasn't the boot-black been discharged?"

"No; and isn't going to be."

"How is that?" asked Roswell, looking very much disappointed.

"I can't stop to tell you now. You'd better go now, and I'll tell you
this evening."

"Just my luck!" said Roswell to himself, considerably crest-fallen. "I
wish I hadn't said a word to Edward McLean about the place."

CHAPTER XIX.

ANOTHER ARREST.

Micky Maguire, as the reader will remember, was by no means satisfied
with the compensation he received from Gilbert for his share in the plot
which came so near proving disastrous to our friend Dick.

He felt that the book-keeper had acted meanly to him, and he meant to
have his revenge if a good opportunity should ever offer. He was very
much disappointed to think he must do without the watch which he had set
his heart upon. He would have felt no particular scruples against
stealing it, but that would be rather dangerous. He began to wish he had
kept the pocket-book. Very probably it contained more than enough to buy
the watch.

But, in spite of his disappointment, he had one satisfaction. He had
avenged himself upon Dick, whom he had long dislik