s soon as possible where Uncle Oliver is staying. Then
I will see him, and try to cure him of his infatuation. He is evidently
trying to keep us in the dark, or he would have come back to his rooms."

"How are you going to find out, ma?"

"I don't know. That's what puzzles me."

"S'pose you hire a detective?"

"I wouldn't dare to. Your uncle would be angry when he found it out."

"Do you s'pose Phil knows anything about it?" suggested Alonzo.

"I don't know; it is hardly probable. Do you know where he lives?"

"With the woman who called here and said she was your cousin."

"Yes, I remember, Lonny. I will order the carriage, and we will go
there. But you must be very careful not to let them know Uncle Oliver is
in New York. I don't wish them to meet him."

"All right! I ain't a fool. You can trust me, ma."

Soon the Pitkin carriage was as the door, and Mrs. Pitkin and Alonzo
entered it, and were driven to the shabby house so recently occupied by
Mrs. Forbush.

"It's a low place!" said Alonzo contemptuously, as he regarded
disdainfully the small dwelling.

"Yes; but I suppose it is as good as she can afford to live in. Lonny,
will you get out and ring the bell? Ask if Mrs. Forbush lives there."

Alonzo did as requested.

The door was opened by a small girl, whose shabby dress was in harmony
with the place.

"Rebecca's child, I suppose!" said Mrs. Pitkin, who was looking out of
the carriage window.

"Does Mrs. Forbush live here?" asked Alonzo.

"No, she doesn't. Mrs. Kavanagh lives here."

"Didn't Mrs. Forbush used to live here?" further asked Alonzo, at the
suggestion of his mother.

"I believe she did. She moved out a week ago."

"Do you know where she moved to?"

"No, I don't."

"Does a boy named Philip Brent live here?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Do you know why Mrs. Forbush moved away?" asked Alonzo again, at the
suggestion of his mother.

"Guess she couldn't pay her rent."

"Very likely," said Alonzo, who at last had received an answer with
which he was pleased.

"Well, ma, there isn't any more to find out here," he said.

"Tell the driver--home!" said his mother.

When they reached the house in Twelfth Street, there was a surprise in
store for them.

"Who do you think's up-stairs, mum?" said Hannah, looking important.

"Who? Tell me quick!"

"It's your Uncle Oliver, mum, just got home from Florida; but I guess
he's going somewhere else mum, for he's packing up his things."

"Alo