the next morning mr. manning introduced ben to his temporary ward, a bright, attractive little girl, who seemed to take an instant fancy to our hero.

"is he my brother?" she inquired of mr. manning.

"he is going to be your brother, if you like," was the smiling reply.

"i am glad of it," said the little girl, putting her hand confidingly in ben's.

ben was not much used to girls, never having had a sister, but it occurred to him that he should find it very pleasant to have emma in the house.

"are you willing to leave the city and go home with your new brother?" asked mr. manning.

"yes," said emma promptly. "when are we going?"

"this afternoon. you will sail on a big boat, and then ride on the cars. shall you like that?"

"ever so much," said emma, clapping her hands. "you will take care of me, won't you?" appealing to ben.

"oh, yes, i'll take care of you," said ben manfully.

"i think you had better go to boston on the fall river line," said mr. manning. "that will give you nearly all night on the boat, and you can have a comfortable night's rest. indeed, i think you may as well remain on board till the half-past-six train starts. that will get you into boston about nine o'clock, in time for a late breakfast. what time can you go to milltown?"

"there is a train at half-past ten."

"that will answer very well. now, if you will come down-town with me, i will engage passage for you."

ben accompanied mr. manning to the office of the steamers, and passage tickets were obtained and paid for.

at four o'clock, ben and his young charge were seated in the showy cabin of the immense sound steamer which plies between new york and fall river.

as the two were chatting, an old lady, evidently from the country, looked attentively at them. she was old and wrinkled, and, from time to time, took a pinch of snuff from a large snuff-box which she took from the pocket of her dress.

"what is your name, little gal?" she inquired at last.

"emma," answered the child,

"come and kiss me," said the old lady.

emma surveyed the old lady critically, and answered bluntly, "i don't want to."

"come and kiss me, and i'll give you the first cent i find on the currant bushes," said the old lady coaxingly.

"i don't want to," answered emma again.

"why don't you want to?" asked the old lady, with a wintery smile.

"'cause you're old and ugly, and put snuff up your nose." answered emma, who had not yet learned that the truth is not to be spoken at all times.

the old lady gasped with wrath and amazement.

"well, i never did!" she exclaimed.

"yes, you did," said emma, understanding her to say that she never took snuff. "i saw you do it a minute ago."

"you are a bad, wicked little gal!" said the old lady, in high displeasure. "you're spoiled child."

"no, i ain't," said emma, angry in turn. "don't you let her call me names," she added, speaking to ben.

ben found it difficult not to laugh at the old lady's discomfiture; but he felt called upon to apologize for his young charge.

"i hope you'll excuse her, ma'am," he said. "she's only a little girl."

"how old is she?" asked the old lady abruptly.

"five years old."

"then she'd orter know better than to sass her elders," said the old lady snappishly. "she's badly brung up. is she your sister?"

"no, ma'am."

"is she any kin to you?"

"no; i'm her guardian."

the old lady adjusted her spectacles, and surveyed ben from head to foot in a scrutinizing manner.

"sho!" said she. "why, you're a child yourself!"

"i'm fifteen," returned ben, with dignity.

"you don't mean to say you have the care of the little gal?"

"at present i have."

"ain't nobody else travelin' with you?"

"no, ma'am."

"where are you goin?"

"to milltown."

"where's that?"

"in massachusetts."

"is she goin' to board with your folks?"

"yes, ma'am."

"i'd like to have charge of her for a month. i'd make a different gal of her."

"i wouldn't go with you," said emma.

"if you was bad, i'd whip you so you couldn't stand," said the old lady, her eyes snapping. "i've got a granddarter about as big as you; but she wouldn't dare to sass me the way you have."

"i'm glad you ain't my grandmother," said emma. "i don't want a dirty grandmother like you."

"you mustn't talk so, emma," said ben, thinking it time to interfere.

"talkin' won't do no good. she ought to be whipped," said the old lady, shaking her head and scowling at emma.

"don't you want to go on deck and see the steamer start?" asked ben, as the only means of putting a stop to the irrepressible conflict between the old lady and his charge.

"oh, yes; let us go up."

so they went on deck, where emma was not a little interested at the varied sights that met her eye.

"did you ever see such an ugly old woman, ben?" asked emma, when they had reached the top of the stairs.

"hush, emma! you must be more particular about what you say. you shouldn't have said anything about her taking snuff."

"but she does take it," insisted the little girl. "i saw her put it up her nose."

"that is nothing to us. she has a right to take it if she wants to."

"but she wanted me to kiss her. you wouldn't want to kiss her, ben, would you?"

"no, i don't think i should," answered ben, with an involuntary grimace. "you were right in refusing that."

soon after the boat started they went down to the supper-room and got some supper. mr. manning having supplied ben with sufficient funds to travel in a liberal manner. just opposite them at the table sat the old lady, who shook her head frowningly at the free-spoken young lady. ben was amused in watching her.

"i say, you, sir," she said, addressing the waiter, "bring me some tea and toast, and be quick about it, for i ain't had anything to eat since breakfast, and feel kinder gone, at the stomach.

"please write your order, ma'am, on this paper," said the waiter.

"what's the use of writin it? can't you remember?"

"yes, but the bill has to be footed up at the desk."

"well, i can't write it, for i ain't got my specs about me."

"madam, i shall be happy to write for you," said ben politely.

"i'm obleeged to you. i wish you would," she said.

"what shall i put down?"

"how much is a cup of tea?"

"ten cents."

"it's awful high. it don't cost 'em more'n three cents."

"shall i put it down?"

"yes, i must have it. how much do they charge for toast?"

"dry toast—ten cents."

"that's awful high, too. why, you can git ten slices off a five-cent loaf, and they only bring you two or three. it costs a sight to travel."

"cream toast—twenty cents," said ben mischievously.

"what is the world comin' to?" exclaimed the old lady. "twenty cents for cream toast! like as not, it's skim-milk. well, i guess you may put down dry toast."

"shall i put down anything else?" asked ben.

"how much do they charge for beefsteak?" inquired the old lady.

"fifty cents."

"it's wicked shame!" she exclaimed indignantly. "they're a set of robbers, and i've a good mind to tell 'em so. you, sir"—to the waiter who came up at that moment—"what do you mean by askin' such shameful prices for your vittles?"

"i haven't anything to do with the prices, ma'am."

"i need some meat," said the old lady sternly, "but i won't buy any. i won't encourage you in your shameful swindlin'. i'll bear up as well as i can till i get home, though like as not i shall be faint."

the waiter took the written order, and brought the old lady's tea and toast. ben ordered some steak, and, finding that more was brought than he needed, offered a piece to the old lady.

"shan't i rob you?" asked the old lady, looking at the meat covetously.

"not at all, ma'am. i've taken all i want."

"then i don't keer if i do take a piece. i feel kinder faint, and meat goes to the right spot; but i wasn't going to pay any of their shameful prices."

the old lady ate the meat with evident relish, and an expression satisfaction, which arose partly from the reflection that she was gratifying her appetite without expense. she even regarded emma with a softened expression, saying: "i forgive you, little gal, for what you said to me. you don't know no better. you must try to behave like the boy that's with you. he's a real polite boy."

"so he is," said emma. "i like him ever so much."

luckily she added nothing to kindle the old lady's resentment, and they rose from the table on good terms.