nt."

"I want to become intimate with him," said Bessie, with provoking
frankness. "He's very nice."

"He seemed to me rather a low, common fellow," said Maurice, irritated.

"You needn't like him, if you don't want to," said Bessie. "Let us talk
about something else," and she began to make inquiries about home
affairs.

We return to Tom, whom we left standing on the platform in the depot.

"Have a carriage, sir?" asked a hackman.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere you like--Burnett House."

"If you know of any nice hotel where they'll board me for the pleasure
of my company, you can take me right along."

"They don't do business that way, here."

"Never mind, then. I guess my private carriage is outside."

Tom, of course, knew nothing of Cincinnati; but, picking out a man with
a carpet-bag, whose dress indicated limited means, he followed him.

"He won't stop at any of the tip-top hotels," thought our hero. "I
can't afford to go first-class any more; my pocket-book ain't so full
as it was."

He followed his unconscious guide nearly a mile. The latter finally
stopped before a small, third-class hotel, which bore the name Ohio
House. After a slight pause he entered, and Tom followed him. After the
man had registered his name, Tom went up to the desk.

"What do you charge?" he asked.

"Two dollars a day."

"Is that the lowest price?"

"Where a party stays a week, it's ten dollars," was the reply.

"All right," said our hero.

"Will you register your name?"

Tom took the pen, and would have put down "Gilbert Grey," but, as we
know, his education had been neglected, and he was not at all sure as
to the proper way of spelling Gilbert. After a little reflection, he
put down:

G. GREY, New York.

The clerk wrote the number of a room opposite, and asked our hero if he
would go to his room before supper.

Tom decided that he would, and was shown into a stuffy little bedroom,
which would never have been mistaken, even by the most inexperienced,
for a room in a first-class hotel. However, our hero was not very
particular--he had never been accustomed to luxurious accommodations,
and he was perfectly satisfied with No. 12.

"You can go," said he to the servant, "I'll be down in a jiffy."

He washed his face and hands--for even in the days of his street-life
he had paid more regard to neatness than most of his class--opened his
carpet-bag and took out a clean paper collar, which he substituted for
the one