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was some mistake.

      "Thank you, sir," he said; "but did you mean to give me fifty cents?"

      "Yes," said the cigar-vender, laughing; "but I wouldn't have done it, if it had been good."

      "Isn't it good?"

      "No, it's a counterfeit, and a pretty bad one. I might pass it, but it would cost me too much time and trouble."

      Frank was confounded. He mechanically handed the money to Mills, but did not again thank the giver. When they returned to the tenement-house, Mills requested Frank to go to the baker's for a loaf of bread.

      "Yes, sir."

      "Here is the money."

      "But that is the counterfeit note," said Frank, scrutinizing the bill given him.

      "What if it is?" demanded Mills, sharply.

      "It won't pass."

      "Yes, it will, if you are sharp."

      "Do you want me to pass counterfeit money, Mr. Mills?"

      "Yes, I do; I took it, and I mean to get rid of it."

      "But you didn't give anything for it."

      "That's neither here nor there. Take it, and offer it to the baker. If he won't take it, go to another baker with it."

      "I would rather not do it," said Frank, firmly.

      "Rather not!" exclaimed Mills, angrily. "Do you pretend to dictate to me?"

      "No, I don't, but I don't mean to pass any counterfeit money for you or any other man," said Frank, with spirit.

      Mills half rose, with a threatening gesture, but thought better of it.

      "You're a fool," said he. "I suppose you are afraid of being arrested; but you have only to say that I gave it to you, and that I am blind, and couldn't tell it from good money."

      "But you know that it is bad money, Mr. Mills."

      "What if I do? No one can prove it. Take the money, and come back as quick as you can."

      "You must excuse me," said Frank, quietly, but firmly.

      "Do you refuse to do as I bid you?" demanded Mills, furiously.

      "I refuse to pass counterfeit money."

      "Then, by Heaven, I'll flog you!"

      Mills rose and advanced directly towards Frank, with his eyes wide open. Fortunately our hero was near the door, and, quickly opening it, darted from the room, pursued by Mills, his face flaming with wrath. It flashed upon Frank that no blind man could have done this. He decided that the man was a humbug, and could see a little, at all events. His blindness was no doubt assumed to enable him to appeal more effectively to the sympathizing public. This revelation disgusted Frank. He could not respect a man who lived by fraud. Counterfeit or no counterfeit, he decided to withdraw at once and forever from the service of Mr. Mills.

      His employer gave up the pursuit before he reached the street. Frank found himself on the sidewalk, free and emancipated, no richer than when he entered the service of the blind man, except in experience.

      "I haven't got a cent," he said to himself, "but I'll get along somehow."

      CHAPTER VI.

      FRANK GETS A JOB

      Though Frank was penniless he was not cast down. He was tolerably familiar with the lower part of the city, and had greater reliance on himself than he had a week ago. If he had only had capital to the extent of fifty cents he would have felt quite at ease, for this would have set him up as a newsboy.

      "I wonder if I could borrow fifty cents of Dick Rafferty," considered Frank. "I'll try, at any rate."

      He ran across Dick in City-Hall Park. That young gentleman was engaged in pitching pennies with a brother professional.

      "I say, Dick, I want to speak to you a minute," said Frank.

      "All right! Go ahead!"

      "I've lost my place."

      Dick whistled.

      "Got sacked, have you?" he asked.

      "Yes; but I might have stayed."

      "Why didn't you?"

      "Mills wanted me to pass a counterfeit note, and I wouldn't."

      "Was it a bad-looking one?"

      "Yes."

      "Then you're right. You might have got nabbed."

      "That wasn't the reason I refused. If I had been sure there'd have been no trouble I wouldn't have done it."

      "Why not?" asked Dick, who did not understand our hero's scruples.

      "Because it's wrong."

      Dick shrugged his shoulders.

      "I guess you belong to the church," he said.

      "No, I don't; what makes you think so?"

      "Oh, 'cause you're so mighty particular. I wouldn't mind passing it if I was sure I wouldn't be cotched."

      "I think it's almost as bad as stealing to buy bread, or anything else, and give what isn't worth anything for it. You might as well give a piece of newspaper."

      Though Frank was unquestionably right he did not succeed in making a convert of Dick Rafferty. Dick was a pretty good boy, considering the sort of training he had had; but passing bad money did not seem to him objectionable, unless "a fellow was cotched," as he expressed it.

      "Well, what are you going to do now?" asked Dick, after a pause.

      "I guess I can get a living by selling papers."

      "You can get as good a livin' as old Mills gave you. You'll get a better bed at the lodgin'-house than that heap of rags you laid on up there."

      "But there's one trouble," continued Frank, "I haven't any money to start on. Can you lend me fifty cents?"

      "Fifty cents!" repeated Dick. "What do you take me for? If I was connected with Vanderbuilt or Astor I might set you up in business, but now I can't."

      "Twenty-five cents will do," said Frank.

      "Look here, Frank," said Dick, plunging his hands into his pocket, and drawing therefrom three pennies and a nickel, "do you see them?"

      "Yes."

      "Well, it's all the money I've got."

      "I am afraid you have been extravagant, Dick," said Frank, in disappointment.

      "Last night I went to Tony Pastor's, and when I got through I went into a saloon and got an ice-cream and a cigar. You couldn't expect a feller to be very rich after that. I say, I'll lend you five cents if you want it."

      "No, thank you, Dick. I'll wait till you are richer."

      "I tell you what, Frank, I'll save up my money, and by day after to-morrow I guess I can set you up."

      "Thank you, Dick. If I don't have the money by that time myself I'll accept your offer."

      There was no other boy with whom Frank felt sufficiently well acquainted to request a loan, and he walked away, feeling rather disappointed. It was certainly provoking to think that nothing but the lack of a small sum stood between him and remunerative employment. Once started he determined not to spend quite all his earnings, but to improve upon his friend Dick's practice, and, if possible, get a little ahead.

      When guiding the blind man he often walked up Broadway, and mechanically he took the same direction, walking slowly along, occasionally stopping to look in at a shop-window.

      As he was sauntering along he found himself behind two gentlemen,—one an old man, who wore gold spectacles; the other, a stout, pleasant-looking man, of middle age. Frank would not have noticed them particularly but for a sudden start and exclamation from the elder of the two gentlemen.

      "I declare, Thompson," he said, "I've left my umbrella down-town."

      "Where do you think you left it?"

      "In Peckham's office; that is, I think I left it there."

      "Oh,

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