"It's a lie!" said Jack Minton. "Just ask this woman who I am. She knows."
"Who is he, Mrs. Mack?"
"It is my nephew, Jack Minton. He – "
"Do you hear that? I'm her nephew, come in to make her a call after a long time."
"What are you doing to her?" demanded Mark suspiciously.
"Trying to stop her infernal racket. You'd think I was murdering her by the way she goes on."
"What made you scream, Mrs. Mack?"
"Because he – he was going to rob me."
"How is that?" demanded Mark sternly.
"None of your business, kid! You ain't no call to interfere between me and my aunt."
"I have if she asks me to."
"He was at my bureau drawers. He told me I must give him twenty-five dollars."
"Supposing I did? It's the least you can do for your own nephew that hasn't a cent to bless himself with."
"Oh, take him away, Mark! He'll rob me first and murder me afterwards, and I'm his mother's only sister."
"You see she admits it. She's rolling in money – "
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Mack, throwing up her hands. "You know I'm poor, Mark Mason."
"No, I don't, Mrs. Mack. I think you've got all the money you need, but you have a right to keep it if you want to. Mr. Minton, you had better leave the room. Your aunt is evidently afraid of you, and, old as she is, your staying here may make her sick."
"It ain't much use living, the way she is. Aunt Jane, I ask you again will you lend me twenty-five dollars?"
"No, no!"
"Will you lend me five dollars?"
"No."
"Are you going to turn your own nephew out into the street without a cent to buy food or pay for a bed?"
He glowered at his aunt so fiercely as he said this that Mark was afraid he might strangle her.
"Mrs. Mack," he said, "you had better give him something if he is in so much need. Since he is really your nephew, you might give him a dollar on condition that he won't trouble you again."
After long persuasion the old woman was induced to do this, though she declared that it would leave her destitute, and send her to the poor-house.
"Now, Mr. Minton," said Mark, "I advise you not to come here again, or I may have to call in a policeman."
"I've a great mind to throw you down-stairs," growled Jack.
"You'd have to throw me too!" put in Tom Trotter.
"I'd do it with pleasure."
Jack left the room and steered his way to the nearest saloon, while Mark and Tom returned to the room beneath.
CHAPTER IX
AN ADVENTURE IN A FIFTH AVENUE STAGE
Mark did not fail to call at Mr. Rockwell's office during the following week.
Nichols, the clerk, who had already shown a friendly interest in him, received him kindly.
"Mr. Rockwell is still confined at his house," he said. "The affair of last week was a great shock to him, and, not being a strong man, he is quite prostrated."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Mark in a tone of sympathy, "but I am not surprised. That is what I read in the papers. Still, as I was asked to call at the office, I have done so."
"I am glad to see you. I hope you are getting along well."
"Oh yes, fairly well."
"How do you like being a telegraph messenger?"
"It will do very well for a boy, but it leads to nothing. I wish I could get into some position where I would be promoted."
"That will come after a while, if you show yourself faithful and reliable."
The next day Mark had a surprise. Walking past the Metropolitan Hotel, not far from Houston Street, he saw a boy just leaving the hotel whose face and figure were familiar.
"Edgar Talbot!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Edgar, turning at the call.
"Yes; how do you happen to visit New York again so soon?"
"We are going to move to New York," answered Edgar. "Father feels that Syracuse is too small a place for a man of his business ability," he added in a consequential tone.
"Are you going to live at the hotel?"
"No. We shall live in a nice flat up town, near the Park."
This was news indeed. Mark felt no interest in any of the family except in Mrs. Talbot, his mother's sister, who alone of all displayed a friendly regard for her poor relatives.
"Mother will be glad to hear of it," he said.
"Why?"
"Because your mother is her only sister, and she will like to call on her."
"Look here!" said Edgar. "I hope you don't expect to be on visiting terms at our house."
"Why not? You are my own cousin, aren't you?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Edgar, making the admission grudgingly, "but of course there is a great difference in our social positions."
"You mean that you are rich and we are poor?"
"Yes, that's about the size of it."
"I don't care a particle about seeing you, but my mother will be glad to see her sister."
"Oh, well! Mother can call at your – tenement house, now and then, but it would be better that none of you should call on us."
"Why?"
"Because we wouldn't like to let the servants know that we have such poor relations."
"Do you say this on your own account, or did your father tell you this?" said Mark indignantly.
"I know that is the way he feels."
"I don't believe Aunt Mary feels so."
Just then a boy approached whom Edgar seemed to know.
"Good morning," he said hurriedly. "I have an engagement."
Mark felt that he was dismissed, and kept on his way. He hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry that his uncle's family was coming to New York. He did not care for Edgar's companionship, nor did he expect to get any of it, but he knew that his mother would like to meet her sister occasionally.
About the middle of the afternoon he found himself riding in a Fifth Avenue stage. The stage was tolerably full. Directly opposite Mark sat an old lady richly dressed, whose means were evidently large. Next to her sat a flashily dressed young man, on whose bosom glittered what might be a valuable diamond stud, conspicuous for its size. He had a diamond ring on his finger, and might easily be mistaken for a banker's son.
All at once Mark noticed some suspicious movements which led him to think that the young man might be quite different from what he appeared. A moment later he saw the young man's hand dive into the old lady's side pocket. Directly afterwards he rose and pulled the strap for the stage to stop. Mark realized that a robbery had taken place. He rose and placed himself between the young man and the door.
"Madam," he said to the old lady, "I think you have been robbed. Feel in your pockets and see."
The old lady, startled, followed Mark's advice.
"My pocketbook is gone!" she said nervously.
"Out of the way, boy!" cried the young man. "I have to get out here."
"Not yet," answered Mark firmly. "Give back the lady's pocketbook."
"Why, you insolent young rascal! What do you mean?"
"I mean just what I say."
"You