has tried her fascinations on me already," said Mordaunt; "but she
soon concluded there wasn't any chance, and gave it up. She'll be
wanting you to take her to the opera, as you dote upon it so much."

"The only opera house I ever went to was in the Bowery."

"That's what I thought. Now, how shall we spend the evening?"

"Suppose we take a walk, and then come and study."

"A good plan. What would you like to study?"

"I can't read or write very well. I don't know much."

"We will stop at a bookstore on our way and buy such books as you want.
Then I'll give you lessons."

While walking, a flashily-dressed young man recognizing Mordaunt,
stepped up and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Come and play a game of billiards, Mordaunt," he said.

"I can't, Dacres. I've got an engagement with my friend here."

"Sorry for it. Won't he come, too?"

"No; he's young. I don't care to take him among such wild fellows as
you."

"The last time I played billiards with Dacres he won a hundred dollars
of me," said Mordaunt, as they passed on. "It might have been so
to-night; but, now I have your company, I am safe."

On reaching home Tom spent an hour and a half in study, Mordaunt
assisting him. The young man became interested in his task, and went to
bed much better satisfied with himself.

CHAPTER XVI.

MAURICE IS ASTONISHED.

Maurice Walton felt very much annoyed at the prospect of having Tom for
a fellow-clerk. He felt jealous of him on account of the evident
partiality of Bessie Benton for his society. He suspected, from Tom's
style of talking, that he was "low and uneducated," and he would have
given considerable to know that his hated rival had been a New York
bootblack. But this knowledge he could not obtain from Tom. The latter
delighted in mystifying him, and exciting suspicions which he afterward
learned to be groundless.

Bright and early Tom made his appearance in front of Mr. Ferguson's
establishment. As he came up one way, he met Maurice, looking sleepy
and cross, coming from a different direction.

"Good-morning, Maurice," said our hero, good-naturedly. "Have you just
got out of bed?"

"No," answered Maurice, crossly. "My name is Walton."

"How are you, Walton?"

"Mr. Walton, if you please," said Maurice, with dignity.

"Don't we feel big this morning, _Mr._ Walton?" said Tom,
mischievously.

"Do you mean to insult me?"

"Wouldn't think of such a thing, Mr. Walton. My name is _Mr._ Grey.