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."

"certainly! why shouldn't he? he is a poor newsboy. it would be a great temptation to him. you know he is always shown into aunt eliza's sitting room, and is often there alone."

"that is true."

"and, of course, nothing is more natural than that he should take the money."

"but the drawer was locked."

"he had some keys in his pocket, very likely. most boys have keys."

"oh, most boys have keys. have you, perhaps, keys, master harold?"

"it seems to me you are asking very foolish questions, felicie. i have the key of my trunk."

"but do newsboys have trunks? why should this boy, luke, have keys? i do not see."

"well, i'll go upstairs," said harold, who was getting tired of the interview, and rather uneasy at felicie's remarks and questions.

as felicie had said, mrs. merton discovered her loss almost as soon as she came home. she had used but a small part of the money he took with her, and, not caring to carry it about with her, opened the drawer to replace it in the pocketbook.

to her surprise the pocketbook had disappeared.

now, the contents of the pocketbook, though a very respectable sum, were not sufficient to put mrs. merton to any inconvenience. still, no one likes to lose money, especially if there is reason to believe that it has been stolen, and mrs. merton felt annoyed. she drew out the drawer to its full extent, and examined it carefully in every part, but there was no trace of the morocco pocketbook.

she locked the door and went downstairs to her niece.

"what's the matter, aunt eliza?" asked mrs. tracy, seeing, at a glance, from her aunt's expression, that some thing had happened.

"there is a thief in the house!" said the old lady, abruptly.

"what!"

"there is a thief in the house!"

"what makes you think so?"

"you remember my small work table?"

"yes."

"i have been in the habit of keeping a supply of money in a pocketbook in one of the drawers. i just opened the drawer, and the money is gone!"

"was there much money in the pocketbook?"

"i happen to know just how much. there were sixty-five dollars."

"and you can find nothing of the pocketbook?"

"no; that and the money are both gone."

"i am sorry for your loss, aunt eliza."

"i don't care for the money. i shall not miss it. i am amply provided with funds, thanks to providence. but it is the mystery that puzzles me. who can have robbed me?"

mrs. tracy nodded her head significantly.

"i don't think there need be any mystery about that," she said, pointedly.

"why not?"

"i can guess who robbed you."

"then i should be glad to have you enlighten me, for i am quite at a loss to fix upon the thief."

"it's that boy of yours, i haven't a doubt of it."

"you mean luke walton?"

"yes, the newsboy, whom you have so imprudently trusted."

"what are your reasons for thinking he is a thief?" asked the old lady calmly.

"he is often alone in the room where the work table stands, is he not?"

"yes; he waits for me there."

"what could be easier than for him to open the drawer and abstract the pocketbook?"

"it would be possible, but he would have to unlock the drawer."

"probably he took an impression of the lock some day, and had a key made."

"you are giving him credit for an unusual amount of cunning."

"i always supposed he was sly."

"i am aware, louisa, that you never liked the boy."

"i admit that. what has happened seems to show that i was right."

"now you are jumping to conclusions. you decide, without any proof, or even investigation, that luke took the money."

"i feel convinced of it."

"it appears to me that you are not treating the boy fairly."

"my instinct tells me that it is he who has robbed you."

"instinct would have no weight in law."

"if he didn't take it, who did?" asked mrs. tracy, triumphantly.

"that question is not easy to answer, louisa."

"i am glad you admit so much, aunt eliza."

"i admit nothing; but i will think over the matter carefully, and investigate."

"do so, aunt eliza! in the end you will agree with me."

"in the meanwhile, louisa, there is one thing i must insist upon."

"what is that?"

"that you leave the matter wholly in my hands."

"certainly, if you wish it."

"there are some circumstances connected with the robbery, which i have not mentioned."

"what are they?" asked mrs. tracy, her face expressing curiosity.

"i shall keep them to myself for the present."

mrs. tracy looked disappointed.

"if you mention them to me, i may think of something that would help you."

"if i need help in that way, i will come to you."

"meanwhile, shall you continue to employ the boy?"

"yes; why not?"

"he might steal something more."

"i will risk it."

mrs. merton returned to her room, and presently harold entered his mother's presence.

"what is this i hear about aunt eliza having some money stolen?" he asked.

"it is true. she has lost sixty-five dollars."

"felicie told me something about it--that it was taken out of her drawer."

mrs. tracy went into particulars, unconscious that her son was better informed than herself.

"does aunt suspect anyone?" asked harold, uneasily.

"she doesn't, but i do."

"who is it?"

"that boy, luke walton."

"the very one i thought of," said harold, eagerly. "did you mention him to aunt eliza?"

"yes; but she is so infatuated with him that she didn't take the suggestion kindly. she has promised to investigate, however, and meanwhile doesn't want us to interfere."

"things are working round as i want them," thought harold.