t look to me as if they would steal."

"Thank you, sir," said Frank.

The lady followed out the suggestion, and, plunging her hand once
more into her pocket, drew out a small porte-monnaie. She hardly
knew whether to be glad or sorry at this discovery. It placed her
in rather an awkward position after the fuss she had made, and the
detention to which she had subjected the passengers, now, as it
proved, for nothing.

"Is that the pocket-book you thought stolen?" asked the conductor.

"Yes," said she, rather confusedly.

"Then you've been keeping me waiting all this time for nothing," he
said, sharply. "I wish you'd take care to be sure next time before
you make such a disturbance for nothing. I've lost five minutes, and
shall not be on time."

"I can't help it," was the cross reply; "I didn't know it was in my
pocket."

"It seems to me you owe an apology to the boys you accused of a
theft which they have not committed," said the gentleman opposite.

"I shan't apologize to anybody," said the lady, whose temper was not
of the best; "least of all to such whipper-snappers as they are."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Dick, comically; "your handsome apology is
accepted. It aint of no consequence, only I didn't like to expose
the contents of my valooable pocket-book, for fear it might excite
the envy of some of my poor neighbors."

"You're a character," said the gentleman who had already spoken,
with a smile.

"A bad character!" muttered the lady.

But it was quite evident that the sympathies of those present were
against the lady, and on the side of the boys who had been falsely
accused, while Dick's drollery had created considerable amusement.

The cars had now reached Fifty-ninth Street, the southern boundary
of the Park, and here our hero and his companion got off.

"You'd better look out for pickpockets, my lad," said the conductor,
pleasantly. "That big wallet of yours might prove a great
temptation."

"That's so," said Dick. "That's the misfortin' of being rich. Astor
and me don't sleep much for fear of burglars breakin' in and robbin'
us of our valooable treasures. Sometimes I think I'll give all my
money to an Orphan Asylum, and take it out in board. I guess I'd
make money by the operation."

While Dick was speaking, the car rolled away, and the boys turned
up Fifty-ninth Street, for two long blocks yet separated them from
the Park.

CHAPTER X

INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE

"W