the evening that he got an opportunity to open it. There was a pearl
necklace, very handsome, a pair of bracelets, two gold chains, some
minor articles of jewelry and a gold ring.

A locket attracted Rodney's notice, and he opened it. It contained the
pictures of his father and mother.

His father he could barely remember, his mother died before he was old
enough to have her image impressed upon his memory. He examined the
locket and his heart was saddened. He felt how different his life would
have been had his parents lived.

He had never before realized the sorrow of being alone in the world.
Misfortune had come upon him, and so far as he knew he had not a friend.
Even Dr. Sampson, who had been paid so much money on his account, and
who had always professed so great friendship for him, had turned cold.

As he was standing with the locket in his hand there was a knock at the
door.

"Come in!" he called out.

The door opened and a stout, coarse looking boy, dressed in an expensive
manner, entered.

"Good evening, John," said Rodney, but not cordially.

Next to himself, John Bundy, who was the son of a wealthy saloon keeper
in the city of New York, had been a favorite with Dr. Sampson.