"So long, Bill. I'm sorry I can't come an' stay a month. Some other time,
perhaps."

The gentleman went in, and slammed the gate behind him. Nickie returned
to the heap, and picked up his coat and donned it.

"I'm handing in my resignation, Mr. McGuire," he said. "You are welcome
to my earnings, as I intend to live on my means--temporary at least." He
held up the note.

"A tenner!" gasped McGuire.

"A tenner!" replied Nicholas, "presented by the kind gentleman on
condition that I emigrate from this suburb and absent myself permanently.
The worst thing about rich relations, Stub, is that they want whole
suburbs to themselves; the best is that you can make them pay for the
privilege of exclusiveness."



CHAPTER III.

THE MASK BALL.

NICKIE the Kid only observed his agreements and kept honourable promises
so long as some material advantage flowed from his complaisance. Within a
month he was again haunting the vicinity of the white mansion. One night
he leaned against the fence and watched a procession of guests alighting
from their vehicles. Splendid motors dashed up, and loads of