"Thank you," said the lad, but with a bow, and a gesture that meant he
would not sit while a lady stood, albeit the lady's age was but eight
years.

Madge, pleased at this, smiled, and perched herself on the upper step.
Waiting to be assured that I preferred standing, the newcomer then
seated himself on his own travelling-bag, an involuntary sigh of
comfort showing how welcome was this rest.

"Did you come to visit in New York?" at once began the inquisitive
Madge.

"Yes, I--I came to see Mr. Aitken," was the hesitating and dubious
answer.

"And so you'll have to go back home without seeing him?"

"I don't very well see how I can go back," said the boy slowly.

"Oh, then you will visit some one else, or stay at the tavern?" Madge
went on.

"I don't know any one else here," was the reply, "and I can't stay at
the tavern."

"Why, then, what will you do?"

"I don't know--yet," the lad answered, looking the picture of
loneliness.