old, "and so does my mother. I don't believe
in being friends with the ragtag and bobtail of society."

Luke Walton did not allow his feelings to be hurt by the decided
rebuff he had received from Harold.

"I owe it to myself to act like a gentleman," he reflected. "If Harold
doesn't choose to be polite, it is his lookout, not mine. He looks
down upon me because I am a working boy. I don't mean always to be a
newsboy or an errand boy. I shall work my way upwards as fast as I
can, and, in time, I may come to fill a good place in society."

It will be seen that Luke was ambitious. He looked above and beyond
the present, and determined to improve his social condition.

It was six o'clock when Harold ascended the steps of the mansion on
Prairie Avenue. He had devoted the day to amusement, but had derived
very little pleasure from the money he had expended. He had very
little left of the five-dollar bill which he had first changed at the
dime museum. It was not easy to say where his money had gone, but it
had melted away, in one shape or another.

"I wonder whether Aunt Eliza has discovered her loss," thought Harold.
"I hope I shan't show any signs of nervousness when I meet her. I
don't see how she can possibly suspect me. If anything is said about
the lost pocketbook, I will try to throw suspicion on Luke Walton."

Harold did not stop to think how mean this would be.
Self-preservation, it has been said, is the first law of nature, and
self-preservation required that he should avert suspicion from himself
by any means in his power. He went into the house whistling, as if to
show that his mind was quite free from care.

In the hall he met Felicie.

"What do you think has happened, Master Harold?" asked the French
maid.

"I don't know, I'm sure."

"Your aunt has been robbed. Some money has been taken from her room."

CHAPTER XXX

LUKE WALTON IS SUSPECTED OF THEFT

Harold was prepared for the announcement, as he felt confident his
aunt would soon discover her loss, but he felt a little nervous,
nevertheless.

"You don't mean it?" he ejaculated, in well-counterfeited, surprise.

"It's a fact."

"When did Aunt Eliza discover her loss, Felicie?"

"As soon as she got home. She went to her drawer to put back some
money she had on hand, and found the pocketbook gone."

"Was there much money in it?"

"She doesn't say how much."

"Well," said Harold, thinking it time to carry on the programme he had
de