they do not wish me to return to their service, they may, at least,
be willing to give me a recommendation that will give me a place
elsewhere."'


"I must prevent the boy communicating with my uncle, if it is a possible
thing. 'Strike while the iron is hot,' I say."

"I think that is very judicious, Mr. John. I have no doubt you will know
how to manage matters."

John Wade dressed himself for a walk, and drawing out a cigar, descended
the steps of his uncle's house into the street.

He reached Fifth Avenue, and walked slowly downtown. He was about
opposite Twenty-eighth Street, when he came face to face with the
subject of his thoughts.

"Where are you going?" John Wade demanded sternly.

"I don't know that I am bound to answer your question," answered Frank,
quietly, "but I have no objection. I am going to Thirty-ninth Street
with this bundle."

"Hark you, boy! I have something to say to you," continued John Wade,
harshly. "You have had the impudence to write to my uncle."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing that you would like to hear. He looks upon you as a thief."