Luke Walton

"Yes, I have some money."

They went to a dime museum on Clark Street.

Harold surprised his companion by paying for the two tickets out of a five-dollar bill.

"You're flush, Harold," said his friend. "Has anybody left you a fortune?"

"No," answered Harold, uneasily. "I've been saving up money lately."

"You have? Why, I've heard of your being at theaters, playing billiards, and so on."

"Look here, Robert Greve, I don't see why you need trouble yourself so much about where I get my money."

"Don't be cranky, Harold," said Robert, good-humoredly, "I won't say another word. Only I am glad to find my friends in a healthy financial condition. I only wish I could say the same of myself."

There happened to be a matinee at the Grand Opera House, and Harold proposed going. First, however, they took a nice lunch at Brockway & Milan's, a mammoth restaurant on Clark Street, Harold paying the bill.

As they came out of the theater, Luke Walton chanced to pass.

"Good-afternoon, Harold," he said.

Harold tossed his head, but did not reply.

"Who is that boy – one of your acquaintances?" asked Robert Greve.

"He works for my aunt," answered Harold. "It is like his impudence to speak to me."

"Why shouldn't he speak to you, if you know him?" said Robert Greve, who did not share Harold's foolish pride.

"He appears to think he is my equal," continued Harold.

"He seems a nice boy."

"You don't know him as I do. He is a common newsboy."

"Suppose he is; that doesn't hurt him, does it?"

"You don't know what I mean. You don't think a common newsboy fit to associate with on equal terms, do you?"

Robert Greve laughed.

"You are too high-toned, Harold," he said. "If he is a nice boy, I don't care what sort of business a friend of mine follows."

"Well, I do," snapped Harold, "and so does my mother. I don't believe in being friends with the ragtag and bobtail of society."

Luke Walton did not allow his feelings to be hurt by the decided rebuff he had received from Harold.

"I owe it to myself to act like a gentleman," he reflected. "If Harold doesn't choose to be polite, it is his lookout, not mine. He looks down upon me because I am a working boy. I don't mean always to be a newsboy or an errand boy. I shall work my way upwards as fast as I can, and, in time, I may come to fill a good place in society."

It will be seen that Luke was ambitious. He looked above and beyond the present, and determined to improve his social condition.

It was six o'clock when Harold ascended the steps of the mansion on Prairie Avenue. He had devoted the day to amusement, but had derived very little pleasure from the money he had expended. He had very little left of the five-dollar bill which he had first changed at the dime museum. It was not easy to say where his money had gone, but it had melted away, in one shape or another.

"I wonder whether Aunt Eliza has discovered her loss," thought Harold. "I hope I shan't show any signs of nervousness when I meet her. I don't see how she can possibly suspect me. If anything is said about the lost pocketbook, I will try to throw suspicion on Luke Walton."

Harold did not stop to think how mean this would be. Self-preservation, it has been said, is the first law of nature, and self-preservation required that he should avert suspicion from himself by any means in his power. He went into the house whistling, as if to show that his mind was quite free from care.

In the hall he met Felicie.

"What do you think has happened, Master Harold?" asked the French maid.

"I don't know, I'm sure."

"Your aunt has been robbed. Some money has been taken from her room."

CHAPTER XXX

LUKE WALTON IS SUSPECTED OF THEFT

Harold was prepared for the announcement, as he felt confident his aunt would soon discover her loss, but he felt a little nervous, nevertheless.

"You don't mean it?" he ejaculated, in well-counterfeited, surprise.

"It's a fact."

"When did Aunt Eliza discover her loss, Felicie?"

"As soon as she got home. She went to her drawer to put back some money she had on hand, and found the pocketbook gone."

"Was there much money in it?"

"She doesn't say how much."

"Well," said Harold, thinking it time to carry on the programme he had determined upon, "I can't say I am surprised."

"You are not surprised!" repeated Felicie, slowly. "Why? Do you know anything about it?"

"Do I know anything about it?" said Harold, coloring. "What do you mean by that?"

"Because you say you are not surprised. I was surprised, and so was the old lady and your mother."

"You must be very stupid not to understand what I mean," said Harold, annoyed.

"Then I am very stupid, for I do not know at all why you are not surprised."

"I mean that the boy Aunt Eliza employs – that boy Luke has taken the money."

"Oh, you think the boy, Luke, has taken the money."