propriety as that. Perhaps I shall
be some time, when I get to be a stiff old maid like Priscilla
Wiggins."

"You won't be that."

"How do you know?" said Bessie, saucily.

"You don't look like it."

"Don't I? Perhaps nobody will marry me," she said, demurely.

"If nobody else will, send for me!" said Tom, blushing immediately at
his unexpected boldness.

"Am I to regard that as a proposal?" asked Bessie, her eyes sparkling
with fun.

"Yes, if you want to," said Tom, manfully.

"I'm sure I'm very much obliged," said the young lady. "I won't forget
it, and, if _nobody else_ will have me, I'll send for you."

"She's a trump," he thought, but fortunately didn't make use of a word
which would have been highly objectionable to Miss Wiggins.

CHAPTER X.

TOM ARRIVES IN CINCINNATI.

"You haven't told me your name yet," said Bessie, after a while.

"Gilbert Grey," said Tom.

The name sounded strange to himself, for he had always been called Tom;
but his street-life was over. He had entered upon a new career, and it
was fitting that he should resume the name to which he had a rightful
claim.

"That's a good name," said Bessie, approvingly. "Would you like to know
mine?"

"I know it already--it's Bessie Benton."

"Oh, you heard me use it. Do you like it?"

"Tip-top."

"That's another of your boy-words."

"Isn't it good?"

"I like it well enough. I'm not Miss Wiggins."

I am not going to inflict on the reader a full account of all that was
said on the journey by Bessie and her young protector. They chatted
upon a variety of topics, Tom taking care not to be too communicative
touching his street experiences. He wanted to stand well with Bessie,
and was afraid that she would not be quite so pleased and social with
him if she should learn that he had been a knight of the
blacking-brush.

It was early evening when the train reached Cincinnati.

"I think papa will be here to meet me," said Bessie, looking out of the
car window, as they entered the depot. "Uncle telegraphed him from
Buffalo that I would arrive by this train."

Our hero was sorry they were already at their journey's end. He had
enjoyed Bessie's company, and he knew that he might never meet her
again. Though he knew nothing of etiquette, he did what was proper on
the occasion, and assisted Bessie to ascend the steps upon the
platform.

Bessie looked around to find a familiar face.

"Oh, there's Cousin Maurice!" she said. "Her