The Rent Boy (or, Tom's Dick is Harry's)

by Whore-ratio Anguish (No, actually by Darklady)

Disclaimer: None actually. This *IS* my story, I *DO* own the characters - at least 99%- and I don't think Alger has a active copyright anyway. But this is a story in the style and form of Horatio Alger Jr's `newsboy' series. I acknowledge that, and offer it as a tribute to one of the first ( and most clearly unknowing) of our Foresmutters. Because if you've ever actually *read* one of his stories???

Horatio Alger pulp slash. A desecration of American literature. What more do you need to know?

Think of this as one of the stories Alger would have written if a) American society had not been *total* in its denial and b) Charles Burbage had gotten money to develop his Universal Calculator. In such a world the internet could have come with the telegraph, and dear Mr. Alger could have written slash with the best. Because *really* - have you *looked* at his Titles?

Note: Various ethnic stereotypes are conveyed in the course of the story. Need I mention that these are present for historical reasons and do not reflect the current beliefs of the author? [Certain stereotypes may appear unusual, as public opinions have altered about several populations. Even bigotry has its fashions. Major data is taken from 'How the Other Half Lives' by Jacob A. Riis.]

Second Note: For those not familiar with his work, Horatio Alger Jr. Was one of the earliest and most successful American writers of stories published directly for young boys. In their time, they were considered racy but virtuous. Horatio Alger Jr. was also a social reformer, and lived on occasion with the boys he wrote about. Despite later stories, there is no evidence to support any allegations of misconduct on the part of Mr. Alger. I will assume all such tales to be jealous libel, and hereby deny them my support.

Third note: Victorian Language warning! Actually, Mr. Alger's style is even *less* descriptive than this. But I had to make some compromise for comprehension.

Fourth Note: As smut goes, this isn't going to be all that hot. But as vengeance on American Literature.... he had it coming!

Rated: R for character sex. NC-17 for literary rape!

Archive: To the archives of the lists I post it to. CKoS, WWOMB, and whatever Rareslash feeds to. All others please ask. (My answer is always yes, but sometimes I have corrected versions.)

Warnings: Let's see. Underage, incest, crime, indecent acts... is there anything I left out? Umm. I don't think there's any cannibalism. At least not yet. Basically, if you *can* be squicked, don't read.

The Rent Boy (or, Tom's Dick is Harry's)
by Whore-ratio Anguish
No, actually by Darklady

Prologue:

This is a story about how a young man, through fate and conspiracy, is deprived of the home and comforts rightfully his.

Of how through character and courage he makes his way in the world, meeting many interesting people and gaining their friendship by his forthright demeanor.

And finally how, as a result of his personal honesty, he at last gains the affection and beneficial society which is the reward of manly virtue.

********************

Chapter One: The Rent Boy

"Tom! Tom Lance!" Bill Preston's little brother came running across the fields to where the older boys were playing ball. "Go back to your house!"

Tom caught the young boy in his arms. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Your mother has collapsed," the young boy said, panting from the exertion of his run, "and they have sent for Dr. Carter."

********************

Tom sat by her bed, holding his mothers hand.

"Hush, mother. Dr. Carter will be here shortly."

"It is not the Doctor I look for. No doubt he can do little for me. No, it is Deacon Brent that I am afraid of."

"Why ever would you fear Deacon Brent? He has a reputation as a harsh man, and I do not myself care much for his company, but certainly his place as a Deacon must reassure you as to his character. And he has always been straight in our dealings with him?"

"So I have lead you to believe."

Mrs. Lance struggled to sit up against the pillows.

"Tom, I have little time left, and so I must acquaint you with the story of my past; and yours. I fear afterwards you will not think highly of me, but facing the view of heaven I see I have no
choice."

Tom sat up straighter.

"Mother. I know you for a loving and a virtuous woman, and nothing you tell me will change my affection for one who has raised a son with the tenderest attention."

"Would that were true," she sighed, "but the sad truth Tom, is that you are not my son."

She paused, gripping his hand in her pain.

"No doubt you wondered how a single woman, unblessed by relations of any sort, came to raise a son in this small town?"

"Never! Mother." Tom took a deep breath, "If there was a moment of error in your youth, it needs no confession. You have been true and straight for all the years of my memory, and I will hold to that, and not some fall so dearly repented and amended.

"I have indeed fallen into sin, Tom, but not the one you might most commonly imagine. I *am* a widow. That much is true. I was married to a sailor out of Boston, and he did died in the course of his duties aboard the Saucy Sue. So there would be no shame in me to be the mother of a son. But Tom?" She pulled his hand to her heart. "You are not that son."

"What?"

"It was sixteen years ago, just after my husbands death. I was living in a 'flat' on Sixth Street little better then a barrack. Mr. Lance's death benefits had maintained me for a while, and I had previously had work as a shop girl, so I though I could manage to keep myself. But then it proved that my husband had left me with a token of his memory that, howsoever desired while he was here to share the joy, was a lethal burden for a woman alone. Once my state showed, I lost my good job. I tried to labor along, taking in sewing for the Ludlow Street Poles, but it was a harsh life for one in a delicate state. I collapsed in the factory, and my son was born on the cutting room table."

Tom heard her story with widened eyes.

"Me, mother?"

"No, Tom. My son, who did not live to draw his second breath."

She closed her eyes.

"My friends there offered to call for the hospital ambulance, but while I thought I might die I had no desire to die in that festering company. So at my demand they took me home. I was 'sitting up' with my little infants corpse - or rather laying on the bed, for there was no other place in the flat - when *he* came."

"He?", Tom questioned.

"I do not know the mans name. He called himself Mr. Smith, but from his hesitation in speaking it that was clearly false. He bore in his arms a flannel bundle, and within that a fresh babe. A boy, only a day or so older then my own. He said he had heard of my misfortune from a friend at the factory, and had come to see me with a proposition of mutual benefit. His nephew, he said," she paused there, "for he called you his nephew, although even then I knew that as false as his name, had just been orphaned, the man said. The death of the father by misadventure, and the subsequent loss of the mother in childbed, had left the infant alone. And now, Mr. Smith said, he feared the loss of the child as well, through starvation of his natural nourishment."

She opened her eyes again, searching Tom's face.

"My heart ached for you, and I conveyed you at one to my own breast. How happy you felt there. So right and natural. While I could never forget my own loss, I knew I could love you. Even though it is not truly considered proper for American women, I offered to be you nurse there on the spot. For, in truth, that is what I thought he had come for."

She raised his hand to her cheek.

"The man refused. He said he wanted no sad reminders of his brother and his folly. Instead, he said, he wanted me to take the child as my own. My son, to replace the one so recently lost."

"And you did?"

"I could not give you back, Tom. Not at all, and never to a man who did not love you. For I swear Tom, I loved you that minute, and more with each that passed."

She paused a moment, catching her breath.

"He gave me one hundred dollars and train tickets to this town, along with a note to Deacon Brent's father. It directed that I was to have a decent job and this house without rent for as long as I lived and you lived with me."

"So Deacon Brent knows my true parentage?"

"I do not know what the old man knew , but I suspect that he did not tell the whole story to his son. Since the old man passed on and Deacon Brent inherited he has kept his fathers word to me, but he has done so grudgingly, and with a bitter heart. I suspect he thinks his father more carnal then charitable in his generosity, and I know he would want the money that renting such a property as this would bring."

Mrs. Lance shut her eyes again.

"I have some savings. One hundred and fifty dollars is tucked in the sugar canister. It will pay for my burial with some left over, but I fear it is not enough to do all I would wish. I had so hoped to send you to college, for you were such a clever boy for the schooling..." Her voice died into a whisper.

"Do not fear, mother. I know Deacon Brent to be a professed man of God. Even if he were to harbor false suspicions of you, it would not be Christian to 'punish the son for the sins of the father'. I shall deal with him frankly, and if he desires this house, which I grant is a bit extravagant for one boy alone, then no doubt he will recommend me as a boarder with one of the families of his congregation. In only a year and a half I will finish high school, and then I will be fit for a man's tasks in the world."

"You are so good, my... Tom."

"Say your son, mother. For you have been a mother to me, and even at the gift of all the world I would have no other."

So comforted, she relaxed back into sleep, and as night passed to morning she passed from this world to a kinder.

********************

Deacon Brent came back to the house after the funeral.

"Tom." He addressed the boy directly. "I do not know what your mother told you of her past."

"Enough to know of your objections to us." Tom answered forthrightly. "You labor under misapprehension, but if you are set I will not insist to dissuade you. I knew her for a good women,
and that is satisfaction enough to me."

Deacon Brent was taken aback. "And you think I should be satisfied as well?"

"I do not know what should satisfy you, Deacon Brent."

The older man stepped forward and placed his hand familiarly on Tom's lower back.

"I think you could find a similar way to satisfy me, Tom", he answered. "I could think of many satisfactory accommodations I could reach with a handsome young boy such as yourself."

"I do not think such would satisfy Mrs. Brent, were she to learn of it, and I know it should not be to my satisfaction."

Deacon Brent moved his hand lower, sliding below Tom's belt.

"You are to young to know what accommodations you might receive."

Tom stepped back sharply.

"I am old enough to know I should not wish to receive what you would give me."

Seeing his desires frustrated, the Deacon grew hard hearted.

"If you defy my kindness, you can not expect to stay on my property."

"No, sir, I do not," Tom answered. "I rather thought I should board with a family in town. I am a strong boy, and willing to work, so it should not cost more than a dollar a week. That is far less then the rent you would receive from this property. In a year and a half I shall graduate from high school. Then I should expect to make my own way entirely."

Deacon Brent nodded grimly.

"So you are willing that, if I were to place you where your care would be promised, you would relinquish all claim to this property."

"Yes, sir. That should seem only fair to me. Whatever the motive for placing me here, it was clearly that I should grow into my own competence, not that should be a almonner for life. So if I have an honest place where I may study to make my way, I am content."

"And you will sign a letter to that end?"

"Yes, sir."

The Deacon scribbled a few world on a nearby foolscap, which Tom signed with a flourish.

"Very well," Deacon Brent said, tucking the letter in his pocket. "It should take only a day of two to find such a home to take you off my hands. In the mean time, you should pack and be ready."

Chapter Two: Tom Suffers a Removal

"Tom! Tom Lance!" Deacon Brent cried harshly from a wagon stopped before the Lance home.

Tom came running over.

"Yes, sir?"

"Go inside and fetch your bags, for it is time to go to your new place."

Tom did so, packing the last bits of his wardrobe into his case and bringing it down the stairs. Most of the furnishings had come with the house, and the rest Tom had given to such friends of the family as were best to make use of them, so he had little to carry in the way of material goods. When he came back down to the front steps, Deacon Brent was standing there alongside another man who was seated in a plain farm wagon.

"This is Farmer McDonald," Deacon Brent announced. " He is looking for such a boy as you, and so we have reached agreement that he is to have you care until you reach twenty-one."

"Thank you, Deacon Brent, for the efforts you have made on my behalf."

Turning to the other man, Tom held out his hand politely.

"I am glad to meet you, sir, and I hope to please."

Farmer McDonald ignored the outstretched hand.

"Do yer work without chatter, laddie, and that will please me well enough."

Tom did not like the looks of the man, for he was rough featured and ill shaven, in addition to being rough spoken, but he reminded himself to 'judge not'. Many persons fair to the eye were evil within, he considered, and doubtless the opposite must hold true as well. Therefore he merely flung his case up to the back of the wagon and jumped up beside the farmer.

There was no further conversation on the way to McDonald's farm.

********************

The farm was fair enough, with good sized fields and green crops, although one of more agricultural knowledge might have noted a certain laxness in the rigor of hoeing and dishing. Tom lacked the education to be a judge of such things, but he could observe that the house was small and low. It had need of a fresh coat of paint - if not a new roof - and the yard around was devoid of those feminine touches of flower and fruit that mark the diligent application of an industrious farm wife.

Ignoring the adjacent residence, Farmer McDonald drove up to the barn.

"Get out here, laddie," he directed Tom. "This is yer place."

"Sir? Am I not..?" Tom looked at the house.

Farmer McDonald shook his head. "You'll eat inside with me, as all the hands do, but you've a room of yer own up to the loft. Yer a lucky boy at that, I'll tell you. Most times you'd have had to share it, but I've nay other hand at this time except for Lonny, and he has his own place."

Tom made his way up the narrow stairs - and indeed, some less charitable would be more inclined to call them a ladder - and into a rough walled room at the near side of the hay loft. There he surveyed his new domain. It's light was supplied by a shuttered dormer without glass or sash. It's pleasure consisted of a narrow iron bed barely wider than a cot and a corner shelf holding a pitcher and wash basin. That, and a row of hooks set into a nook generally passing for a closet, were the luxuries of Tom's new accommodation.

Tom considered personally that he had made a bad trade, but when he took into consideration Deacon Brent's other intents, he decided he must make the best of it. While not truly comfortable, its rigors were not beyond the strength of a hardy boy, and Tom thought that with some `elbow grease' he might move the accommodations closer to his tastes.

Tom had remade the bed and was stashing away his more private goods when Farmer McDonald appeared at the door without warning.

At first glance, Farmer McDonald spotted the purse in Tom's hand.

"What is that?", the older man demanded.

"Fifty dollars." Tom replied honesty.

"And where would ye be coming by such a sum?"

"It is my mothers savings, which she left to me."

"Aye well, it is too great a sum to be entrusted to a boy. Hand it over, and I will keep it for you."

Seeing no choice, Tom did as he was told.

Stashing the bills in his own wallet, the farmer quickly went about setting Tom to work.

While hoeing vegetables was new to Tom, such skills are swiftly learned, and Tom did not stint his labor. While he was hard at it, he saw Farmer McDonald saddle a horse and head off down the road.

********************

Once finished his assigned task, Tom carefully cleaned the hoe and returned it to the barn. The day was hot, and he was further heated by his labors. Still, there was more work to be done.

I shall go up to my room and wash my face and hands, Tom decided. That shall refresh me almost as much as a rest.

Upon his entrance, however, Tom found another boy, one some years older then himself, reposing on his bed. The older lads flannel shirt was hiked up, and his canvas trousers were undone to display an impressively swollen manhood. This the visitor was stroking with slow pulls, moaning quietly to himself as he did so, until at the last stroke he released his essence into a waiting handkerchief.

Tom was shocked.

"What are you doing!", he asked without thinking.

They older lads eyes sprang open.

"I should think you would see for yourself" he said, tucking himself back into his rough work pants.

Easing himself up from the bed, he added, "You seem a big enough lad. Bigger every minute,from he looks of you."

He ran a rough hand over the from of Tom's pants, where a certain bulge had become evident to the watchful observer.

Ton gasped at such familiarity and stepped back.

"That does not explain why you think to do so in my room."

"My room too, when I chose to use it. I'm Lonny, the other hand. I used to bunk here, but I've a place of my own now."

The older boy ran an accessing eye over the barn rooms new resident.

"So, you are Tom, the new farm boy."

"I am come to board here, yes."

"Board?", the older boy laughed. "That is a new world for it!"

"Whatever could you mean," Tom asked. "Deacon Brent arranged that I should stay here in the care of Mr. McDonald, for my mother is dead, and Deacon Brent had a desire to rent out our home.

"Well, they'll care for you, all right. You'll have care from sunup to sundown, for Farmer McDonald is a drunken sot and won't hire a man when he can catch a boy and have the city Poor Fund pay him besides."

"I am sure you are mistaken," Tom said firmly, "for I specifically mentioned to Deacon Brent that I was wishful of finishing my schooling. He is a church elder, and I will trust the man at his word."

"Schooling." Lonny laughed. "You'll be schooled, all right. Schooled with the flat of Old McDonald's belt, if you give him any lip."

"I am sure I should not wish to be disrespectful, but neither will I pass on my own rights. I shall gladly work on Saturday, and on Sunday as well, if the time is there after Church, but on Monday I shall expect the half-day for my studies."

That ending the exchange, both Tom and his new work-mate returned to their tasks about the farm.

**************

Dinner that night was biscuits and beans, which Lonny heated up on the kitchen fire. Tom supposed he should be welcomed to eat his share at the table in the kitchen, for no one directed him otherwise, but it was so rough and disorderly a place that he chose to follow Lonny's example and take his plate outside instead.

While they were dining thus, Farmer McDonald returned. His face bore the first smile Tom had seen on the man, and the saddlebags he removed from his tired horse clanked with the tune of several glass bottles.

"Lonny," we cried, waving at the elder farm lad. " Want to be staying over? I've a we bit of good fortune I would share."

Lonny set aside his plate.

"That's not all you would share, Ronald, but if you'll give me a taste of the whisky, I'll give you a taste of something else."

After which exchange, they disappeared into the house.

The hour growing late, Tom decided to retire directly to his room. He was tired after a day of unaccustomed exertions, and disinclined to seek whatever unknown disportments the rough county might provide. Instead, he decided, he would do best to garner his strength in repose.

Sadly, such pleasant rest was not to be his.

The positioning of the barn was such that Tom's 'room' overlooked the attic bedrooms of the farm house, and most closely the room that Farmer McDonald had allotted for himself. While Tim carefully drew the curtains, the lack of an honest window meant he had no deterrent against the sounds of revelry which followed the wind from the farmhouse to his loft.

It began with ragged singing and rough laughter, but soon enough fell into quieter but no less disturbing paths.

"Huskers lotion?" he heard Lonny exclaim. "Use the butter, you foul flint."

"Can't", Farmer McDonald's voice replied. "You dinna churn me any."

"Do it, then, but just be slow going in. You rip me open and you'll get no churning from me tomorrow as well."

"With all my whisky, ye think you'd be loose enough."

"Say rather tight enough, you old sod. Ooh. Ah, that is good."

"Push up, ya lazy flat."

"Give me your hand. Yes, there. Harder."

And in that vein their converse continued for quite some time.

Tom's dreams were troubled, and in the morning his bed sheets were soiled.

****************

Sunday morning they all took the wagon back into town for services. Farmer McDonald was red-eyed, and Lonny seemed disinclined to enjoy the bounce of the front seat, so Tom was deputized to drive the horses. This was a rare treat, and very much to Tom's taste, but it did not change his determination to have a word with Deacon Brent. Certain aspects of his new residence were not as promised, and some alterations would clearly have to be made.

Waiting until the finish of Holy Services, Tom approached Deacon Brent forthrightly.

"Sir, we must discuss my living."

"I have nothing to say to you, Tom. I have done my duty in the eyes of the law."

Tom pressed on.

"While I hate to be disobedient, this is not at all what my mother would with for me. Farmer McDonald is neither kind, nor temperate, nor ... honest."

Tom had hesitated, for he had no proof to match his suspicions of what had become of his money. Still, he rather accurately assessed that it was vanished beyond his recall. Strengthen by the memory of his loss of this proof of his mother's care, Tom forged on.

"This arrangement must change, sir. I will have no benefit either worldly or spiritual from his 'care', and I would be removed from it."

Deacon Brent waved him off.

"It matters not what you want. It matters only what you signed. Farmer McDonald and myself are agreed, and I have no wish to be out of pocket to accommodate your fancies."

Thus Tom was turned away unsatisfied.

Chapter Three: Two Strange Men

Seeing Tom lingering on the church steps, his good friend Nathan came rushing up with his ball in his hand.

"Time for a game, Tom?"

"I rather think Farmer McDonald will expect me to go back quickly," Tom answered quietly. "There is much work to be done on a farm."

Nathan knew such low spirits were not in the character of his friend, and so pressed him.

"You seem troubled, Tom. Since I know you to be no shirker, I think it can not be simply from the prospect of labor rather than sport."

"You are right, Nathan."

Tom proceeded to tell his friend all that had occurred in the days they had been apart.

Nathan listened with growing concern.

"That is a bad situation, Tom. I can not see how you can prosper there, or indeed stand in any way but in danger."

"I do not wish to attribute evil to my fellow man, yet there is much about Ronald McDonald that I can not trust."

"You are wise in that. My father says Farmer McDonald is dishonest in his dairy weights, adding pond water to the milk to the general danger of the public.

"All the worse for me, then." Tom exclaimed. "I fear if I stay I must be tainted with a reputation for sharp dealing."

"I fear even worse for you, if I judge correctly the looks I saw his man Lonny give you during service today. From my own aquaintance, I have heard this Lonny is inclined to frequent saloons and keep low company."

"I should not wish to be tainted with that reputation either, for I hold there is nothing more to be despised in a man then drunkenness and cupidity."

"That is true," Nathan said. "I do not like to condemn another man for his personal acts - for indeed it is none of my business - but I fear they will try to draw you in to their dishonesties. To speak the truth I find them distasteful both personally and as actors in the community."

Tom nodded. "I think I shall have to find another path."

"Here Tom."

His friend dug into his pocket and pulled out a small handful of money.

"Frank! This is your savings from our summer labors."

"And now it is yours. I wish only that it might be more."

Tom looked at the coins and bills. There was enough there to purchase his passage to the city, and perhaps a few coins more besides.

"I would welcome the loan, if I thought I should ever find my way back here to repay it," Tom said honestly.

"Repay some other in need, and we will both be recompensed by the owner of all things."

Thus persuaded, Tom pocketed the funds. He could see there was no hope for accommodation with the Deacon , and so Tom resolved he must make his own way in the world.

******************************

Tom considered waiting until morning to see if the farmer would prove more accommodating, but a solid reflection showed the folly of such hopes. Besides, while he might be will to trust such charity on his own behalf, he now had Nathan's saving to take into consideration. They had been entrusted to him for a purpose, and if they too disappeared down Farmer McDonald's gullet that purpose would be frustrated.

Ton resolved it his duty to follow his friends good advise. Five dollars would purchase him the cheapest ticket to New York. Once there he could find some honest work. He knew that this path would put a finish to his hopes of higher education, but such hopes here dashed already at the hands of Farmer McDonald and Deacon Brent. At least in the city he might find a place with some mercantile establishment or legal house where he could learn the questions of business first hand. With application and honesty, he did not doubt that he could make an respectable place for himself.

Putting the few articles he had taken out back in his case, Tom set out before first light and made his way on foot to the junction train station. The hollow in his belly made Tom wish he had stayed for breakfast - but had he stayed to long, he might never had been able to leave at all.

The sleepy clerk did not recognize him, and did not question the boys request for a third class ticket to New York.

Paying his passage required all his stash, save a nickel and three pennies. Scarce enough capital for any lad, much less one thrust with little more into the chill bosom of a foreign city. Still, Tom did not despair. He resolved to make his two hands his capital, and by investing them in work to gain his reward.

**************************

Tom's passage was uneventful until mid-day. Then, heeding the complaints of his stomach, he made his way to the dining car and parted with three cents of his remaining treasure to the Black cook in exchange for a large plate of biscuits and gravy. This he ate with all the gusto and natural appetite of youth.

One demand of nature thus satisfied, he faced the insistence of another, and so made his way back to the rear car. Shockingly, this was barred. Thus frustrated, he ventured one more forward into first-class territory. There he found the location sought, and quickly settled into his business.

While thus employed, a sharp features young man in a flashy checked coat approached him familiarly. Most young adventurers would have considered one so arrayed the height of `dash', but to Tom's eyes there was something of the sharpster about him.

Standing as if to use the facilities, the young man set free his organ and drew it in Tom's direction.

"Do you like it?" the man whispered. "Touch it."

Tom stepped back, startled.

"Please, sir!"

"Please me, and I shall give you a dollar."

"No sir, I shall not! I do not know you... and..."

The stranger smiled encroachingly, pressing forward towards the shocked boy.

"You can get to know me fast enough."

"I do not think I should want the acquaintance."

Suddenly the door was flung open, and civil law stood there in the brass-buttoned uniform of a conductor.

"What is going on here!"

The sharp young man drew himself up, hastening to cover his own transgression.

"This boy propositioned me! Surely the B&O Railroad should protect its first class passengers from such in accommodation."

So accused, even the most innocent boy must be put to the blush. Tom was, and his confusion was taken for guilt by the train official.

"Let me see your ticket, lad!" the conductor snapped sharply.

Tom handed it over.

"Third class... what are you doing up here?"

"Just looking for the facilities. The ones in the back care are unavailable."

"Then you should wait for them, or hold it until the stop."

"But, sir," Tom protested.

"I think you are a nasty little fairy, and I am resolved to put you off at the next stop."

"Please, sir."

"I don't care to hear another word from you!"

A well dressed man stepped clear of the rear stalls. He was handsome to Tom's eyes, well set in his vigorous early forties. His dark hair was clipped neatly, with sufficient attention to fashion but none to flash. His well tailored suit hung flawlessly from broad shoulders which required no padding to counterfeit their strength. The drape of the mans gold watch-chain served more to emphasize the firmness of his physique rather then decorate a rounded paunch, and his long-fingered hands were devoid of rings or ornaments. In sum, the newcomer was the vision of everything that Tom himself aspired to become.

"Perhaps you would care to hear one from me?" the man said calmly.

"Who are you?"

"A gentleman who chanced to overhear the entire transaction."

The sharp youth quickly acted to turn the unanticipated observers's comment to his own advantage.

"So you grant it was a transaction!"

Put upon his `uppers', the conductor responded with bluster.

"I can't see that it's any of your business. I manage this train, and..."

"I am inclined to make it my business," the older man persisted, "when I hear my fellow man transgressed with false witness."

"Why should I take your word over this gentleman's?"

"Beyond the matter of your own eyes? Or perhaps the fact that the testimony is now two against one?

The older man reached into his breast pocket and pulled forth an etched gold card case. Pulling out one finely engraved card, he handed it to the petty official.

"I also am an officer of this railroad, and it is in *my* interests that all passengers are fairly accommodated - and not just those who might offer gratuities to a conductor."

Finding himself thus likely to be embarrassed, Tom's accuser left the room quickly before worse could befall him. Moving officiously, the conductor followed close behind.

Tom turned to his unexpected defender.

"Thank you, sir. I don't know what I should have done without you."

"You seem an honest lad. What *are* you doing on this train?"

Tom blushed again, deeper for the seeming accusation from one to whom he was so clearly beholden.

"Oh... not that." The well dressed man dismissed the false charges with a wave. "I believe you honest, but you do appear a bit young to be traveling on your own. Is your family going to meet
you?"

"I have no family, sir. I am going to New York to seek my future."

"I could not recommend that path to a young man. It is fraught with dangers and mischances."

"I am sure you are right, sir, but I feel I have no better choice."

With a few words, Tom told him of his misadventures to date.

"I can see you have had your difficulties, and under the circumstances the city may suit you well. I started with little more, and through hard work I have prospered, yet I must confess to you there were hard time between then and now."

"I will accept that, sir. As long as I can get through them with honesty, I will not begrudge the labor or the lack."

"You have a good attitude. Here is my card. I shall be out of the city for a day or so, but after that you are welcome to call on me. Perhaps I can place you to your benefit."

"Thank you, sir." Tom responded sincerely. "I shall keep your
kindness in my prayers."

Chapter Four: The Snares of the City

It was just past noon when Tom stepped out at the train station. So this is New York, Tom thought, looking about with eager curiosity. It seemed an active place, and as Tom considered the ceaseless industry he determined that that there must be some place that should welcome a boy like himself.

"Carry your bag for you, sir?"

Tom looked over at the lad who addressed him. He was a bold-eyed scamp, whose ragged suit was none the less made jaunty by the addition of a bright red neckerchief. Under his right arm was tucked a flowered carpet-bag, and under his left a brown leather valise.

"I am taller then you are, and I think I should carry my own bag and perhaps yours as well," Tom answered,

"These aren't my bags", came the jaunty reply. "I'm a smasher. Folks pay me a penny to tote their packages and such."

"And is that a prosperous career?"

"It has its days. Not as good as the newspaper lay, but most days I make enough for my dinner and flop, and a bit more for the sport beside."

"Then you are well placed in the world." Tom said. "I am new come in town and will have to find some employment - although I would give you the penny if you might direct me to some work or an economical boarding house."

"Here for the city, are you?"

After a moment, Tom remembered his manners and held out his hand.

"I am Tom Lance."

"Dirty Dick they calls me; on account of I ain't been cleaned out yet. You are looking to work?"

"Indeed I must, for otherwise I shall have no money."

Dick took in Tom's demeanor with an appraising eye.

"If you'll porter for a bit, you can stash your own bag with the station master. He is straight with us boys as long as we are straight with him. That should fetch you some ready. Then, once the rush is done, I can show you to my own place."

"You have a boarding house?"

"I board at a private house on Fifth Street. It's not fancy, but its fair enough,and the boys are all good sorts who would help a brother. Besides, the sport's better there than at any house in town. I swear I'd not leave it for ten dollars."

"As I have no work, I do not see how I can pass up your offer of the days employment, so long as the station master will do as you say."

Following Dick into the station, Tom learned from that man that he would indeed locker Tom bag . Though it cost Tom his last nickel, he felt it a fair enough investment if he might make enough to pay for his nights lodging and meals. Handing the station master his last coin, Tom stowed his goods and set to work with a will. His honest face and clean appearance made him a favorite with the passengers, especially the ladies, and he soon found himself with as much work as he could handle.

It was hard, as many time the parcels and cases were heavy for his boyish strength. Even so, Tom did his best to see each passenger neatly situated in their carriage or car before departing, and so through his honesty gained ready payment of two and even three cents at a bag.

At about three o'clock he made several trips `setting up' a well dressed women and - as he considered - her three daughters. He took special care with the ladies cases, for from their fancy dress he assumed them wealthy, and even a few hours of this profession had tutored him in the advantages to be gained from servicing such clients. He had just finished handing the youngest up into the carriage when she turned and took ahold of his hand.

"Oh, Nell, isn't this boy just the most precious little gentleman."

"Yes, Fanny, he surely is a handsome lad," the middle `sister' said, reaching down to lay her hand on Tom's shoulder.

"I wonder if Rupert should like him?", the eldest asked, leaning over to brush her fingers through Tom's curls. By chance, her lace collar fell loose, giving Tom a glimpse of her white bosom.

Tom blushed a bit a the unexpected revelation.

"Why, he is blushing!" Fanny observed. "Such a proper lad, too."

City ladies were certainly bold, Tom thought. He was rather discomforted by their attentions, and would have drawn away, but he did not feel it was a place to correct a lady.

The `mother' seemed about to reprimand her `daughters', but after a careful scan of the subject of their interest, changed her mind. Instead, she smile broadly at Tom.

"He is a likely lad at that."

Gesturing her `daughters' to move over, the elder lady patted the seat at her side.

"Hop on up, boy. I'll give you a dollar more if you'll come home with me and unload my bags at the other end."

Tom considered if he should accept. He might lose work here - for how long he could not guess as he did not know the city - but a dollar was a good deal of money. Indeed, it was often a grown mans wages. He thought it unlikely that a boy should make that much in his whole day. He was about to lift himself into the cab when he spotted Dick racing towards him across the platform.

"No! You get away from my friend," Dick cried.

Tom dropped back to the platform.

"Dick, is there something amiss?"

"You don't want to go near her house. Lads that do, they don't come out again."

The eldest `lady' took a hard swipe at Dick, missing only because the boy dodged the blow with street-wise agility.

"Mind your own business, you filthy boy."

"Better mine then yours, ya old rag."

Dick quickly drew Tom away.

"She's not a lady. She's a abbeyess, and not healthy for boys like us. She lures them to her house, and then well..."

Dick cast a foul look at the carriage with its departing femininity.

"You may think your going there for the ladies, but its the gents who'll have you in the end." Dick chuckled a bit. " A county boy like you might not know about such matters."

"I think I have a fair idea."

Tom recounted to Dick the events that transpired between Lonny and Farmer McDonald.

"A bit like that, but the unlucky lad will likely not get the whisky. Leastwise not for long. More a bit of opium to keep him easy until they've got him where they want him... and once a sporting house has got it's claws on a boy, he never gets out again."

"Then I am doubly glad to have made your acquaintance, for I see have much to learn about city ways."

Tom labor continued until sunset, and he was tired, but the days honest gains sat cheerfully in his pocket.

Dick walked along with Tom while he went to reclaim his case from the station master's office.

"You were lucky for me today. I did better then I had expected, with your honest country face to reassure the ladies."

"I made," Tom counted his pocket carefully, "sixty-six cents."

"Then you are in luck. That should be enough for tonight, and for breakfast tomorrow as well. So , do you think you should like to be a smasher?", Dick asked.

"If I can get no other work, I should not mind it. It is hard, but honest, and that is all I ask."

"Smashing is hard," Dick agreed. "Perhaps tomorrow I shall help you to something a bit easier."

So encouraged, Tom collected his bag, and followed his new friend Dick through the shadowed streets of the big city.

Chapter Five: City Life

Dick guided Tom to a stone-fronted building tucked in a narrow lot between a warehouse and a sewing factory. The first floor hosted a green-grocer to one side, and some sort of mechanics
shop to the other.

"This is my place." Dick pointed to the building proudly. "I share a room in the attic with two other boys. It may not look like much, but Mr. Shafter and the Sarge are honest landlords, and keep the
growlers out."

That done, Dick opened the front door and directed Tom up the narrow stairs. Tom had worried a bit, for the house seemed a poor one. He need not have. The interior was decent, for all the fashionable might call it shabby, and all the apurtances evidenced a good order. The second floor was neatly kept, with oiled wood and fresh paint, and the salubrity did not much decline when they reached the attic.

"Mr. Shafter and the Sarge live downstairs, but they rent this out to decent working boys. Without their aid, I do not know how many fresh young men would have fallen to drink and loose women."

Dick pointed to one of four doors set in the narrow hall.

"This one is mine."

As Tom watched, Dick flung the door open with all the style and pride of a major domo at the Ritz. Bowing low, he invited Tom to enter.

"The others are not here?" Tom asked.

"Peter works as an cash boy, and Monday nights are always late for him. The banks are closed over the weekend, and so there is more summing up to do on Mondays. He does not repine it, for the `boss' is inclined to invite Peter for coffee and cakes when he keeps him late."

"He sound most fortunate. Would that I could find such an employer. And as for the other boy?"

"Joseph has a married sister down in the Battery. When her husband is out working Joseph likes to have dinner with her. He can give her a nickel or so, and she is grateful for it and for the
company."

Tom took in the room. It was clean enough - by boyish standards - although more rumpled and cluttered than his mother would have permitted. A chipped iron bed found place on either side on the room, each bearing a mixed pile of blankets and comforters. Between them a faded rug - its once-fresh roses lost to years of damp and muddy boots - filled the narrow strip of plank flooring. A mirror bureau at one end and an iron parlor stove at the other flanked by two plain chairs finished out the main furnishings of the boyish abode.

While a far step down from the neat and comfortable room of his childhood, it was equally an improvement on the bovine discomforts of Farmer McDonald's barn. On the whole, Tom felt he could deal well enough with it.

"It would be a dollar and two bits for the week, if you were to settle with us," Dick went on. "The landlord gets three and a half from the lot of us, and the rest goes for coal and findings. Guests pay two bits if they have it."

Tom took this mercantile hospitality in good spirits.

"Since, by your good efforts, I have the cash, I will certainly be willing to pay my way this night. As for the future, I should wish to wait until I have met the other lads and see how they take to me."

"That is sensible. I must warn you that Joe is a Catholic boy, but I find him well enough for all of that."

Tom was surprised. Such habits were unknown in the town of his childhood. Still, he knew he must encounter all types in so large a city as New York, and he was resolved to be as cosmopolitan as his new surroundings,

"I have never before met a Romanish lad, but if he has no other bad habits then I surely shall not hold that matter against him."

Dick nodded, satisfied.

"You may lock your case in my drawer, and I will give you my key for it. Not that Peter and Joseph are not good lads, but it is best policy in the city to keep a lock on things."

Tom took Dick at his offer, and quickly had his case stowed securely. A quick splash in the handy wash basin sufficed for their pre-dinner ablutions, and with a quick comb and shake the two enterprising gentlemen were more then ready to dine.

Looking to his pockets, Tom announced, "After my bunk is paid I shall have forty-three cents. I hope that is enough for dinner, for I know I am famishing for it."

"I know just the place," Dick said. "If you are not too fine, they serve a fair plate for a dime, with drink but a nickel more."

"If the plate is big, it is fine enough for me."

As they made there way down the stairs, they met a one-legged man with a hook where his left hand should be. While far from young - for indeed the mans gray hair and weathered face marked more than his scars the man's battle with the years - he was none the less fit, and bore himself with a military rigor.

Dick stepped up quickly to do the honors.

"Tom, this is Mr. Queen. Or rather I should say Sargent Queen, for he was a great hero in the late War. President Grant himself gave him a metal."

"I am honored to meet a man who has so served his country."

"Tush, boy - we were all heroes or none of us. You young lads are such romantics."

"Mr. Queen. This is Tom Lance. He will be staying with me a night or two - maybe longer if he likes the house."

"He looks a likely lad. Welcome, Tom. I try to keep a neat and orderly house, and if you do not run to much to the ladies I think you will find a good welcome here."

"I should be glad of that welcome."

He handed the Sargent three nickels and ten pennies.

"I should like to pay you my score in advance, for Dick tells me that is is custom here."

"You are an forward lad," The Sargent said approvingly. "I shall apply this at once in the rent book to the rooms benefit."

"That was good of you, Tom." Dick said after the landlord had left. "Even though the landlords are patient, it is always best to be beforehand with the rent. We would none of us want to lose this good place. Sargent Queen and Mr. Shafter keep us well. Mr. Shafter is a bank clerk, so he is gone in the day, but the Sargent is there to keep out the bully boys and growlers."

Dick guided Tom two blocks to a plain storefront, in the cellar of which there as a workman's restaurant of sorts. Dick order the special, and advised Tom to do likewise.

The girl brought them heavy plates of beef and cabbage, along with a cup of mashed potatoes baked with gravy. Dick had a mug of beer, but Tom preferred the tea. He was tired enough from his days labors, and decided a stimulating drink would be wiser then the workman's brew of which his mother had never fully approved.

Feeling hungry - for this was his first and only true meal of the day - Tom was inclined to lay out another nickel for the apple pie, but Dick advised him against it.

"You will want it more come breakfast, Tom, and you will need some capital to join in business with me."

Counting out their pennies, they paid the man at the counter and made their way back to the boarding house.

"What business do you think to be in?" Tom asked.

"Tomorrow's to be Tuesday, and that is never so good a day for smashing bags. We could do better to go in the paper trade for the day, since we have the capital for stock."

"What is the paper trade?"

"Crying newspapers. I am a dab hand, and will teach you all you need to learn about that."

"As you have given me only good advise so far, I think I would be wise to heed you still."

***********

Sargent Queen was waiting as they came through the door.

"You're in? Good. You're the last, so I'm locking up for the night and turning in."

Dick and Tom made their way back to the room. Dick's two room-mates were already there. One lad was snoring softly. The other was likewise abed, already curled up around his pillow, but not yet asleep.

Dick introduced Tom cheerfully.

"Tom, the lad still wakeful is Peter."

"Peter, this is Tom. I met him at the train station. He may be staying with us for a bit."

"New to the city?"

"Yes." Tom answered. "I have lost my home, and so come hoping to find a new place through honest work."

"Then you will do well with us, for we are all hard workers."

With that Peter rolled over and went to sleep

****************

After hanging up his suit, Tom looked around for a missing article of the furnishings.

Dick saw his look and guessed his need.

"Come on Tom. The necessary is down the hall - and with it the best part of the house."

Tom as glad to learn of the facilities, but curious as to what Dick could mean.

"What could be so interesting about...?"

"Hush!", Dick insisted. "Do not light the gas!".

Dick moved aside a plate at the base of the privy which appeared bolted down, to reveal a small opening the floor. Through it, faint in the utter darkness of the upper chamber, a reflected light glowed.

"Look down," Dick whispered,

There, in the bathroom below, was Sargent Queen. He was quite ungarbed and laying spread legged the large porcelain tub. Anther man sat behind him in that tub, holding a washcloth which he ran slowing over the Sargent's chest.

"That is Mr. Shafter." Dick whispered.

As Tom watched with fascination, Mr. Shafter proceeded to move in front of his companion, and with an easy grace proceeded to kiss him full on the mouth.

The Sargent returned the attention with vigor, offering caress for caress until both men were shaking with manly pleasure. As Tom watched amazed, Mr. Shafter moved his kisses lower until at last he had the whole length of Sargent Queen's manhood as the subject of his oral attention. This Mr. Shafter gave readily, until in short order the object of his affections expended himself fully unto his friends appetites.

When the last cries faded, Dick put the plate back.

"There. They shan't hear us now. You can go into the wash room to wank off if you want."

"Dick, are you..?"

Tom sent a shy glance to the tented front of Dick's trousers.

Dick grinned.

"Oh, I don't mind doing it here, but I know you country boys are modest. Still, of you'd like I'll give you a hand."

Dick reached easily out and undid Tom's top buttons.

"I've never.." Tom hesitated.

"Don't tell me you... never... ever.."

Tom blushed.

"No, I have - but only alone. Never with another boy."

Dick undid another two buttons, allowing Tom's swollen organ to spring free.

"Well, you must do as you like, but I always prefer to help out a friend."

With that, Dick wrapped his hand firmly around Tom's aching phallus, and with a few skilled strokes brought him to completion.

"That is wonderful!", Tom exclaimed.

Unfamiliar with the etiquette, but certainly not wishing to appear selfish, Tom extended his palm to do likewise.

The sensation was strangely thrilling, although the warm flesh was not so much different from his own. Still, there was a selfless pleasure in knowing that his friends gasps and moans were the result of his ministrations. He stayed to his labors until Dick too was spent of his vigor.

When Dick came back to himself, he handed Tom a clean sheet of newsprint.

"There," Dick said, cleaning off the evidence of his own enjoyment. "Make sure to check your trousers before you hand them up tonight. You won't want any stains on them when we go
out tomorrow.

Chapter Six: Street Trade

Dick shook Tom awake in the darkness. The gas-lights of the street allowed a faint illumination to the room, but even so Dick's face was undistinguishable on the near pillow.

"Time to be at work."

"So early?"

"Our business starts early."

Tom would have preferred to remain in the warmth of Dick's bed, but he knew that was not a manly attitude. He sat up and reached for his trousers.

Dick did likewise, continuing his instruction.

"We boys cry newspapers down in the business district, or at the train station. it is hard for some lads, for you must get up very early to get a jump in the day. We must buy our paper bundles down at the printing building and then carry them to our spot."

Pulling on his coat, Dick urged Tom forward.

"We must hurry. Good spots are hard won, and the laggards find the best places quickly taken."

"I do not mind waking early, if you think my remaining twenty-six cents will be enough to set me in this business."

"It is a good start, as long as you will be satisfied with bread and coffee for breakfast."

"I should be satisfied with ham and eggs, but I shall content myself with what I may get."

Tom was hungry, truly, but he knew the wisdom of investing his capital. So he followed Dick's lead and ordered a mug of coffee and a buttered roll for 3 cents from the push-cart at the print shop, and ate it standing while they waited for their papers.

Even with his mornings austerity Tom was two cents short of the quarter required for a full bundle, but Dick advanced him the cash. Tom was a first hesitant to accept that offer.

"I do not like to speculate on someone else's money."

"We will both be better off, for we can get a better price on a full bundle," Dick insisted. "You can repay me from the first paper you sell, so it is not so great a risk."

Tom and Dick caught a ride to the station with a stale beer cart. Tom had no pennies left to pay the driver, but the man was willing to take a paper in its place. Not only could he read it, but afterwards it would make a fine cover for his stock. Thus it was considered a good exchange all around.

Following Dick's lead, Tom cried the headlines with gusto. His clear youthful soprano cut easily thru the clamor of the yard, and so attracted many businessmen to purchase his papers.

True to his word, Tom gave the first two pennies to Dick in repayment of his debt, and after - feeling more his own man - hawked the rest of his papers with even greater vigor.

About ten there was a break in the traffic.

"Let us take a break, Tom," Dick suggested, "for I am about fashed."

Although they both had papers left, Tom was none the less pleased to rest at Dick's suggestion.

After perhaps five minutes, Dick stood up again.

"I'm in the money, so I think it time for my morning tea."

Tom started to the front restaurant, but Dick stopped him.

"Not there. That is for the flats! The rail sort have a much better kitchen, and I am known enough to get us privileges."

"Such are the advantages of experience. Let us do as you say, for as long as I have good food, I shall be satisfied."

So commended, Dick guided Tom behind the station building and into the switching yard. There, between the box cars, sat an open restaurant of sorts where the rail lines Black porters were accustomed to smoke and take their ease. Although it was early, several men were seated about on boxes and barrels.

Tom was hesitant to intrude on the superior company, but at Dick's saucy smile several of the assembly were moved to smile back and let the boys approach.

Dick strolled jauntily up to the crisply dressed Black woman who presided over that sparkling kitchen with a white apron and polished cleaver.

"Ho! Aunt Dinah! You got any food for good boys?"

"Sho nuf! But what's that to you'all. Yo ain't been a good boy from the day you was born!"

"I'm good and hungry! Surely that shall do?"

"Menfolk and boys - all appetite and no sense! You got money?"

"Some. I'm crying today."

"Then ah got food."

After some negotiation on Dick's part, they parted with two pennies each for thick sandwiches of cheese and side bacon on a heavy roll. Tom was not too proud to thank the cook as his mother had taught him, and so he received a wide white smile along with the the heavy sandwich which was the due of his carefully counted coins.

By, noon they had both sold all their papers for two pennies a piece, thus clearing seventy five cents profit for each of them. Or rather seventy-five for Dick and seventy-one for Tom, who had paid two cents in loan and parted with one as `transit'. Less two pennies more for lunch took it down to sixty-nine. Still, sixty-nine was a pleasing number, and Tom counted it a good days profit.

"What do we do now, Dick?"

Tom was somewhat tired from his exertions, but he did not feel comfortable taking his leisure while there was light to work by.

"We could try smashing bags," Dick answered, "but the pickings look slow just now. Perhaps we might do better by the warehouses. On Tuesdays the German often has work to give. That would please me, for if we could both make another quarter we might have enough to treat ourselves to a show."

Tom was uncertain about the show - having never had much opportunity for such entertainment - but another quarter would clearly never be amiss if gained honesty.

"If you think we could make still another quarter today, them I am all for it."

Waving Tom to follow, Dick made his way nimbly down the tracks to the rail-side warehouses. Inside one, a heavy-set man with no hair and a bright yellow mustache sat on a stool surrounded by packages.

"Gutten tag, Herr Schmidt," Dick called out. "Work for two boys today?"

"Can your friend read? I haff packages to bin. A nickel an hour if you sort them by state and city."

Tom stepped forward neatly.

"Yes,sir. I have all but the last year and some of high school."

"Scholar, ya? If you get all mine parcels sorted right by the four o'clock train, I haff another nickel for each of you."

Tom would have preferred to break for lunch. Aunt Dinah's offering, white both tasty and nourishing, had been little more then a teaser to the boundless appetites of a growing boy. Still, the fee offered was to good to pass up. Tom could always dine later, but money was to be earned right now. So concluding, Tom hung up his coat and set to work with a will.

After about an hour, Dick left a minute. When he came back, he handed Tom a thick mug.

"Coffee? What do I owe?"

"Nothing. Herr Schmidt keeps a common pot on the office stove, and if a lad is working he'll not grudge him a sip or two. All the more so when he is not here to see."

Dick took a deep swallow of his own cup.

"That is one of the reasons I like to work for the Germans. They may not be clever, but they do have a free hand with food. Besides, this is easy work."

The last point Tom could have debated, as the bending and lifting was quickly tiring his shoulders. Still, compared to the valises and cases of the day before, the packages being sent post were comparatively light.

********

After about an hour the coffee had its natural effect, and Tom slipped away to seek out the usual place. That he found just behind the warehouse. It was a fair sized building - by the standards of such construction - and Tom thought to find space quickly. Still, when he went to open the latch, the door was locked fast. Thinking it some error, Tom rose on his toes to peer through the cut half-moon.

There, seated as a queen upon her throne, was Aunt Dinah from the cook-shop. Before her - kneeling at her feet - was Mr. Schmidt. From their pose it might have been an illustration out of The Tales of Robin Hood, save that Aunt Dinah's skirts and aprons were hiked up to display her belly, and Herr Schmidt yellow mustache was buried deeply between her outspread thighs.

Shocked, Tom hurried back to Dick.

"Mr. Schmidt is..."

Dick smiles, but did not slow from his sorting.

"Out in the Schmidt house?"

"But he's with..."

"Aunt Dinah from the kitchen?"

Dick tossed Tom a pile of packages.

"Why else do you think he'd pay two lads like us to do a job he could do himself?"

*******

Tom was the much faster reader,and soon Dick hand him sorting out the piles while Dick ran them over to the proper bin. Working together thus, they were able to clear the load several minutes before the issued deadline.

"You haff done well, boys," Herr Schmidt said, handing each a quarter. "I consider your bonus money well spent."

The wharehouse man turned to Tom.

"I know Dick will never give up his venturesome ways, but if you would like a steady post, I might haff room for a clever boy when the season picks up. You should call back in a week or so."

"Thank you, sir. I will certainly do so."

That cheered Tom's spirits, for not only did he have the profits from his days labors, but from Mr. Schmidt the prospect of steadier good fortune. While the task offered was humble, a clerk at the railroads might well study to advance himself in a number of ways.

Likewise cheerful, Dick patted his pocket full of coins.

"Well, Tom, we are better off today then yesterday, even given that this is a slow day. "

"And you are two cents better then I am." Ton said with a smile. Putting aside a quarter and a nickel for tomorrows capital, and likewise a quarter for the rent, I have still some thirty-nine cents for my dinner tonight, and for my future."

That may not sound a large sum, but given that he had been all but penniless the day before, Tom though that he gave a very good account of himself.

"Then I shall try to persuade you to part with a dime of this to night for a gallery ticket for at the Orphium."

"I have never seen a music Hall, but If I can spare the dime, I should surely like to."

Thus in charity, they made their way back towards home.

Chapter Seven: Tom Changes his Luck

As there was still good light, Tom and Dick chose to walk back to their home, thinking it better to pay in leather and labor then lose a penny for a wagon ride. This proved a fortuitous choice, for along the way Tom spotted something in the streets.

"Look, Dick! It is a fifty-cent piece!"

Tom's first thought was to return it, but a moments reflection showed the hopelessness of that idea. Where, in a city this size, could he find the owner? And how could he proved the coins origin?

"That is a lucky coin, and you must have it."

"I suppose so. I should not wish to be dishonest, but neither should I question the gifts of providence."

Dick smiled at Tom's rapid acquiescence.

"Now we must certainly go out tonight," Dick proclaimed. "It is back fortune to not put found money to the purpose intended."

Thus their plans were comfirmed.

******************

Tom and Dick were again dining at the same restaurant they had patronized the night before. They had finished their various plates of corned beef and cabbage boiled with white potatoes and were well into their apple pie when a rumpus from the table behind them attracted Tom's attention.

"Try to cheat me, will you?"

The proprietor had a young lad by the shoulders,and was shaking him vigorously.

He was a pretty lad, with black curls falling childishly long above blue eyes bright with unshed tears. While clearly frightened, the boy held his head up and spoke for himself as best he might.

"Please, sir, I know I had my purse when I came in here. I showed it to the lady when she asked."

The lad pointed to the waitress.

The waitress heard his words with a hard expression. She was the proprietors daughter, and her raising had given her no kinder a nature then her father.

"So he did," the girl conceded grudgingly. "But for all of that he might have passed it to any confederate by now. Several of the older boys here were roughhousing with him."

"I swear, sir, I knew none of them. I just wished to eat in peace, and so I told them."

"Why should I believe a tramp like you?"

The proprietor gave the young boy a slap which echoed through the room, and Tom could abstain no longer.

"It is true, sir."

Tom stood to face the man.

"I heard him speak to the boys, and none of them were addressed familiarly."

"What business of yours is it?"

"Well, none, I should suppose, beyond the duty every man owes to his fellow. Except that only a few days back I was the victim of false accusation, and if a stranger had not spoken for me I do not know what difficulties I would now suffer. It is incumbent on me as a Christian to act as I would be acted for."

The proprietor glowered, but let loose of his captive's jacket.

"So you are noble, but I'm out the price of a meal."

"Not so, sir," Tom answered boldly, "for I shall pay the boys tab."

Dick stood up.

"Tom. You can not afford to do that."

"If I could afford the coins for my own amusement, then I can certainly part with them for the succor of my fellow man."

Or perhaps, Tom thought to himself, in this case his fellow boy. For the lad before him was a boy - not likely above the age of twelve.

Tom turned to Dick.

"You spoke to me of the intent of providence? This must be the purpose intended."

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out Herr Schmidt's quarter. At the sight of the coin, the proprietor was once again in good humor. Or say rather as much in such best humor as such a bitter man might ever be in.

"I am sorry, Dick. You must go to the theater without me, and I shall speak to young ....?

Tom waited expectantly for a name.

"Percy," came the whisper.

"Young Mr. Percival, I think you must be my dinner guest."

Dick gave the pair a dubious look.

"Well, if you are set on it?"

"Yes, for I perceive it as my duty."

Tom paid the proprietor his thirty cents and escorted the boy from the restaurant. Once out of earshot, he found a seat on the curb and indicated his new companion should do likewise.

"Did you truly lose your purse?" Tom asked.

"I an not a liar!"

"No, you do not have the look of a scoundrel to me. But hard times can force even honest men to stray."

"I had a purse.. and ten dollars!"

"That is quite a sum. You must feel its loss."

"I do, for it was all I had, and now I do not know what I shall do."

Tom considered the matter.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

The boy looked down.

"I had thought to find a place, but without my purse?"

Tom took in the young man's clothes. They were unexceptional, much as any working boy might wear. Despite a day's wear they were clean enough to be respectable, but they looked to Tom's judgment a size over-large, as if inherited from perhaps an older brother.

"You must ask for your brothers help," Tom guessed.

The young lad broke down in sobs.

"I have no brother!"

"Sister, then?"

"I have no sister. No one who would love me in this world. Not after..." The lad's words vanished into tears, and he said no more.

Tom took the sobbing boy into his embrace.

"Then I will be your brother, for you are too young to manage the city on your own."

"You will be?"

Percy blinked up at Tom through tear-beaded lashes, and Tom's heart was lost.

"I have always felt the want of a brother, and never had one. If you will promise to be honest, obey me, and work hard, then I will do my best for you."

So hearing, Percy burrowed himself all the deeper into Tom's loving arms.

***************

Peter took a long look at Tom and Percy as they came through the door.

"What? Finding friends already?"

Tom dropped the fifty-cent piece on the washstand.

"This should suffice to pay the freight for myself and my new companion. I hope there shall be room. If not, he shall have my place and I shall seek another."

Peter waved at his bed.

"Joseph has come by just now to say that he will be boarding with his sister. It happens Father O'Brien has caught out her husband in some rumpus, and set the keeping of Joseph as the penalty, so we have the room clear."

As they were speaking, Dick walked through the door,

"A boy for a girl, is it?" Dick laughed knowingly, having clearly overheard all that went before.

"Or a boy for a boy. I did not think to ask."

Tom frowned, for he had little taste for gossip.

"We must be glad that Joseph has found a home to his liking."

To himself Tom thought, `The Papists have strange ways, but as it works to his good and mine I shall not repine it. I shall far rather have Percy for a boarder, even though I must pay his way
myself.'

Peter took a closer look at Percy.

"I grant you, he is a wondrous pretty lad. Spare your quarter and he can sleep with me."

Percy edged closer to Tom, and clutched at his hand.

"I am with Tom. I don't want to sleep with you."

"Feisty young thing; or is it that you have already established your claim?"

Peter knelt down beside the young boy.

"So you want to sleep with Tom here then, do you?"

"Do not tease the lad," Tom said. "I have sworn to care for him as a brother, and that shall be the truth of it. He can sleep where he will, and if needful I shall take the floor."

"Be it as you wish." Peter conceded. "I will bunk with Dick, and you may have this bed."

"That is very generous of you," Tom allowed.

"He is a handsome lad, but I am not one to press a boy against his wishes. Besides, fond though I was of Joseph, Dick abed has always suited me very well."

Thus disposed, they all swiftly settled for the night.

Chapter Eight: Tom's Rough Handling

Morning came again early, but this time more pleasantly, for instead of the cold slap of night-chilled air Tom felt first the warm sweetness of his new brother nestled against his side. It was
most pleasant and charming to clasp like that, but Dick's voice was insistent, and Tom knew a day's duties awaited them both.

"Wake up Percy, it is morning."

"Nan? Please, no, please don't..."

"Percy. What troubles you? You must wake."

Percy rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking at the harsh light as Dick lit up the gas.

"Tom! I had feared I had only dreamed you."

"No Percy. It was only a bad dream. I am here, and always shall be."

"Then I shall forget my nightmares and be gay."

So saying, Percy slipped from the bed and, chilled by the morning air, quickly pulled on his trousers and shirt. Tom and Dick did likewise. Such ablutions as boys feel needful being scant, in quite short time there were three bold lads set to face the world.

As they reached the front door, the found Sargent Queen busily setting up for the day.

"Who is the new chap?"

"Percy, sir." Dick said. " He is a lad that Tom has taken on as a brother. Percy shall have Joseph's place, if that should please you."

"You think he can keep up with such bold lads as you three?"

"Yes, sir," Tom answered. "Percy is coming with us to be a newsboy."

Sargent Queen reached down and gave a friendly toss to Percy's curls.

"I did not know boys so young could be newsboys."

"They can," Dick answered, "although it is best if they have someone to watch out for them and protect them from growlers and bullies. Tom and I shall watch the lad just fine, and I doubt not that he shall please the ladies and sell his papers faster then we might."

"And what say you to that, Master Percy?"

"I shall do my best, sir, for I must wish to please my brother."

Sargent Queen nodded gravely, but his half-hidden smile showed him much gratified by Percy's forthright words.

"Good fortune then, Master Percy. With that attitude, I can not think but that you must succeed.

Tom placed his hand proudly on his new brothers shoulder.

"Percy shall be a fine newsboy. I place my faith in him. Still, sir, you need not fear for his rent. I shall cover his tab, as long as my luck shall hold."

"Oh, he is welcome here - for he seems a nice polite lad - and such a pretty one as he should always have good trade. It shall be a pleasure to have a young lad about the house, for you know both Mr. Shafter and myself are uncommon found of boys. Indeed, I have pastimes suggest to Mr. Shafter that we should find just such a boy to take on, that we might have his social intercourse in our old age."

Tom applauded this Christian sentiment.

"That would be a true kindness, sir. I fear too many young lads go aching for the presence of a proper man in their lives."

"So I had argued, but to little result. Mr. Shafter has always feared that training such a lad might over-tax my vigor, so we have abstained. But with this bright lad?" Sargent Queen gave Percy another pat. "I must hope to act as an Uncle, for I will not concede all the pleasures to young Tom."

So cheered they made their way to the street, where Percy's bright smile and sable curls earned then an unexpected free ride from the ash carter. Thus started with a good omen, the three way partnership seemed well destined to prosper.

Tom's treasury was full enough for breakfast and two bundle of papers, but Dick insisted on advancing Percy the capital for his own. Or rather - since Tom would allow the young man to bear no debt- Dick insisted on returning Percy's rent.

"I swore to cover Percy, and I shall.", Tom insisted, pulling the coins from his pocket.

Dick waved the money away.

"So you may, in the future, but last night he shall count as our guest. We shall be none the worse for it, Joseph being paid through the week, and Percy shall have an honest start in life."

Tom deeply disliked debt, and felt it a blessing that Percy should enter his business clean of such burdens. Thus, for his brothers sake, he accepted Dick's blandishments.

*****************

On the way to the rail station, Percy charms again gained the trio a free ride. This time it was with a sturdy teamster, who carted all three boys for the fee of a single kiss.

Dick was heard to comment that if Master Percy proved as well favored with paper readers as he was with draymen, this day must prove most advantageous indeed.

When they unbundled their papers, Percival stood like one struck dead.

"What? Not a reader?" Dick said.

"Not that, Mr. Dick..."

"No need to blush. Many a city lad has no chance for schooling, and must do for himself as best he can. Do not fret."

Dick pointed to Tom, who stood by the wagon unloading their last bundle.

"Tom there is a fine reader,and will soon help you to the art. In the meantime, just stand as this" - and here Dick assumed a newsboys traditional position, with one hand extending the paper while the other remained cupped for change, "and cry in your loudest voice `Millionaires son kidnapped, ten thousand dollars ransom asked.' Thus you shall attract a good trade."

Percy seemed stunned, but after a moment did as directed.

Such indeed was the headline of the day, Tom saw when he opened his own bundle. Tom shook his head, outraged at the indecency of the crime.

"I can not believe there are such fiends as would steal even a child."

Dick, being city born, took the crime in rather a different vein.

"Oh, that is a good story. We shall most certainly sell our papers today. If only we had known to purchase the illustrated papers instead, we could certainly be in wealth."

So, in their different philosophies, all three of our young entrepreneurs set firmly to their tasks.

Percy was, as Dick had prophesied, popular with the ladies. Or perhaps it was the story itself that touched their maternal hearts. Whichever case, within the hour Percy was relieved of all his burden in exchange for the much more pleasant weight of a hundred pennies.

Seeing Tom still supplied, he returned to his mentor's side.

"Shall I take some of those, Tom?" Percy asked. "The position you gave me must be the best, for I have finished with all of mine."

Tom handed over half of his remaining stack, which was - to be honest - not such a great amount. Tom too had been doing good business.

"Certainly, Percy. Take these. You have a true talent for the street trade."

`Percy?' The man coming off the train caught the name and looked closer. He was carrying the Illustrated gazette,and so had no need to purchase another paper, but something about the lads face caught his attention. Yes, indeed, he thought, looking again at the cover engraving, the feature were very similar.

"Are you with this man?" The commuter asked Percy.

"Yes, sir," Percy answered proudly. "I am selling his papers for him. Would you care for one?"

"And he is?"

"Tom Lance, sir. He is a capitol fellow, for he has given me a place and promised to teach me the paper trade."

"He has, has he?"

The man grew more suspicious, although to Percy he did not show it.

"What does your family say of this?"

"Tom is my family now, and I shall need no other."

"So I hear."

Feeling thus confirmed, the man motioned for a constable. There was one on duty nearby, who hurried over at the summons of such a well dressed and obviously respectable gentleman.

"Yes, sor?" the policeman asked in his broad Irish accent.

The summoner pointed at Tom.

"Arrest this man - for he is a kidnapper."

"What! I am no kidnapper!"

Tom was indignant. This was the second time this week he had been accused without cause, and we was beginning to think the population of New York contained a most suspicious and ill-humored tribe.

The constable was an honest man - at least by the measure of his people - and had no with to stir trouble without good cause. Still, the accusation of such a prosperous citizen was not to be dismissed out of hand.

"Well, sor. I don't rightly see..." the policeman began slowly.

"Then you don't look. Here is the picture of the taken lad."

The commuter held out his copy of the Illustrated gazette.

"Does he not look exactly like this lad here? And the boy has admitted to me his name is Percival, which name I have heard that man call him."

"Corr." The `copper' rubbed his chin as he addressed Tom. "Are you with this here Percy?"

"I shall care for him, if that is what you mean. I make no apologies for that."

"Selling papers, eh?"

"It is honest work, and I have done well at it."

Thus answered, the constable turned his attention to the youthful subject of the debate.

"And what say you to that, me boyo?"

"I have sold all my papers today, so he has taught me well." Percy answered the policeman proudly, wishing to defend his new brother.

"And was he then after calling you Percival?"

"Yes sir, for that is my name, but..."

"And your last name - what would that be being?"

Percy eyes went wide . After a moment's thought he replied carefully.

"Lance, sir. Just like my brother, sir."

"I think I should not be believing you. You will both come along to the station, and me Sargent will have a go to straightening things out."

Thus decided, the policeman pulled out his `bracelets' and quickly slipped them over Tom's wrists.

Percy attempted to flee, but to no avail. The `copper' hand him in hand, and was not at all inclined to let go, for all of Percy's struggles. Nor did those struggles last long. When he saw Tom taken, Percy quickly surrendered. He did not know how he would go on without Tom, and in his heart had no desire except to remain with the boy who had so befriended him.

Chapter Nine: Bondage!

Pushing his way past the mob of persons and personages - virtuous and otherwise - that cluttered the sidewalk that fronted the Precinct House, Mr. Harold Long strode boldly to the receiving desk of the Tenth Ward police station. At his one shoulder walked a Miss Snubbs, and at the other a Mr. Roland Vench.

*************

Miss Snubbs was a middle-aged woman who made her profession as a superior sort of children's nurse, although for her pretensions she called herself a governess. She was not learned, but the native inheritance of a fine British accent and the deliberate cultivation of supposed aristocratic connections had enabled her to colonize a place as a nursery -maid to the scions of wealth. This was not perhaps the best vocation for her, as she was in spirit cold and in manner sharp, but a certain mercantile wit had made it pay almost enough to suit her pleasure.

Mr. Vench was Mr. Long's junior partner, and had before times been his brother-in-law, so he invited himself along as a matter of family interest. He too had pretensions, although in this case it was to the matter of a full partnership. Mr. Long would have proved willing to grant him one, had Roland Vench proved willing to work at it, but as Vench considered that the connections of blood should suffice without any further effort on his part, the progress had been stymied.

This, so introduced, is the party that made their raid in hurried advance of the inevitable - and unwanted - city reporters.

To the other party, while more numerous, we shall yield our attention to only one. The others, while important in their own estimation, have little further employment in this adventure. I so refer to Master Percy and the general police company of the Tenth Ward, the greater number of which had strangely found duties which permitted them to remain in his vicinity.

Such is the fallen nature of mankind, that those who are not diligent to prevent a wrong are after the more diligent to at least appear industrious. But that is of no matter here, So , having introduced the parties, I shall return to the recitation of events.

******************

Mr. Long gave a shout of relief as he entered the police station. There, surrounded by a company of brass-buttoned stalwarts, sat a curly haired young boy. His young boy, for to his hearts pleasure Harold Long recognized the boy child to be his very own missing son.

"Percy!"

Mr. Long rushed to take the young boy into his arms.

I shall not belabor what sighs, what clasping, what heartfelt cries accompanied this tender reunion. Suffice it to say that Percy was Mr. Longs only child, and thus the whole and purpose of his world. When a man has regained the whole world, he must not be thought unmanly for a few tears.

Mr. Long looked up at the nearby Police Sargent. "This is indeed my son. How can I thank you for finding him?"

"No thanks required, sor. It's glad we are to be doing our duties."

"Still - you must have some needs that I might gratify."

The Sargent answered cautiously. True to the nature of Erin, he was not a man to overstep, but simultaneously not one to pass on a `main chance'.

"If you're insistent, there is the Widders Fund. Awfully fond of visitin' the widders, my boyo's are."

Mr. Long produced a thick wallet.

"I should gladly contribute, for I despair at the vision of a young woman left lonely and friendless. Be proud of your officers. They are good men to tend to such women's needs."

So saying, Mr. Long handed over several bills of large denomination.

"That they are sor. Good men all when it comes to the women."

Tucking the bills into his breast pocket, he smiled. "That will be enough all this month for beer and bed - I mean bread. With such a sum we may even give sturdy work to many young women we had not been able to touch pastimes."

This business dispatched, Mr. Long turned back to his son.

"Oh, Percy, my sweet child! I little thought when I started my business trip that my absence should risk so much greater a treasure. To lose you would be to lose my soul! But now I have you back, and we shall be happy again."

Clutching his father's chest, Percy wept, and would not be comforted.

"Oh, Father. I had not thought to again have your love."

"Yes, Percival, my dearest son. We are reunited, and soon we shall return to the home where all so love you."

"But Father, I must tell you..." Percy said.

"No need to fret yourself," Miss Snubbs replied briskly. "You are safe now, and of evil times it is better not to speak."

Mr. Long brushed away his son's tears.

"She is right son. We shall not speak again of this sadness."

"But what of Tom!" Percy persisted.

The Sargent thrust out his chest proudly.

"Not to worry, young sor. That villain will never get his hands on you again."

"But I want Tom! I promised him!"

"Rest, my darling son. I shall take care of matters now."

"Then will Tom come home with us?"

Mr. Roland Vench stepped to the boys side.

"Tom is with the police."

"I don't want him with the police. They were not kind to him. I tried and tried to tell them. Tom didn't kidnap me! Tom took care of me."

"Then who left the ransom note?" Mr. Long asked.

"I don't know about any ransom, sir. I swear to you that I left home on my own, and I did not meet with Tom until he bought me supper. I swear upon my mother's memory! You must not let them hurt Tom. It is wrong to return evil for good."

"But the note was real." Long turned to Roland Vench, who was making a show of sympathy at Percy's other side. "It was collected, was it not?"

Mr. Vench drew himself up to a manly pose. If it failed to impress, well, the charitable will attribute this to the hardness of Miss Snubbs heart, and not to the failings of Mr. Vench's physique. As for the uncharitable? Such folk must judge as they will.

"I followed your instructions, Harry," Roland Vench said. "The ransom was collected, that much I can say. Beyond that?"

Mr. Vench rubbed his chin in a burlesque of careful thought.

"In the darkness I did not see the villain well enough to identify him - although..." Here made a show of remembrance. "I might think the man was taller than this Tom sounds to be. Yes, taller, and of a rougher nature. Had he been a mere lad, I should not have hesitated to resist the kidnappers demands with force, and so facilitate his capture."

"True enough," Mr. Long said. "I should think you could handle yourself against one boy."

Roland Vench preened at the complement.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Perhaps you and I should meet with this Tom lad."

Boy or no, Roland Vench had no desire to meet the accused criminal. Indeed, his only true desire was to fetch Percy and be clear of the entire kidnapping matter before any there were caught up by the press. Thus he demurred.

"I am sure the police know their business."

"Theirs, perhaps, but I rather think this my business."

The Sargent made a study of his feet. He was not a man to be told his own business, but he was also not a man to disoblige such a generous friend as Mr. Long had so recently proved.

"He's a sly sort, sir." the Sargent said carefully. "If he be not the kidnapper, then no doubt he shall prove tight in league with them."

"I should not wish to spare the guilty, but neither would I wish to afflict the innocent. I think I must ask my own question as to the nature of these troubling events."

"Very well sor."

At a signal from the Sargent, two officers pulled Tom out of this cell. He was in chains and looked much the worse for wear.

"You!" Mr. Long exclaimed.

"You, sir?"

Tom was shocked, for this was a man he recognized, although the how and why of his being there Tom knew not.

"This is how you repay my kindness to you on the train!"

Mr. Long was deeply troubled, for his impression of Tom but two days past had been a strong one. The vision of that innocent face had stayed with him, and over the days he had often considered that he should meet with the boy again and do him some service. But never had he thought to have an encounter with the boy in these surroundings.

Harold Long prided himself on being a good judge of character. Never had his instincts so betrayed him. Yet here, bound tightly in chains, was the very lad who two days past Mr. Long had sworn was straight.

At the sight of his friend so constrained, Percy again fell to tears.

"Please, father! You must not speak so of Tom, for he has been all that is kindness to me."

Long spoke to his son.

"This is the lad you say took care of you."

"Yes, father, and he has suffered because of it."

So answered, he turned to the captive.With his shirt in rags and his arms bound tight behind his back, Tom made a less attractive picture then he had on the day of his journey. Still, Long could not deny that something about the boy yet appealed to him.

"You are Tom Lance?"

"That is my name, Mr. ?" Tom paused, for he had never asked the man's name.

"I am Long. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"No sir," Tom answered politely. "But as you know I am new to the city. It may well be that I am ignorant of some of its notables."

"Percival is my son."

"I shall not doubt you, sir, although Percy said to me he had no family, neither brother or sister or mother."

"Brother, sister, and mother he may lack, but he is my son."

"Then you are blessed, sir. If you will have a care for him I am glad of it."

Percy's father was impressed. Despite rags and chains, Tom yet carried himself with a frank and pleasing demeanor which bespoke and inner morality.

Mr. Long considered his next question carefully.

"How did you come to meet with my son?"

"In a small restaurant on Fifth street," Tom answered readily. "We had both enjoyed our dinner at adjoining tables, and came to conversation afterwards."

"I told you, father, he...'

"Hush, my son. Let him answer in his own words. And afterwards?"

"Percy said he had need of a room for the night, and I recommended mine. By fortune, we proved to have just lost a lad, and so had a place for one more."

"In the morning you took him selling papers?" Mr. Long prompted.

"He had need of money, and seemed grateful for the task."

"Money he gave to you."

"He gave me his proceeds for safe keeping, but he may gladly have them. Ask one of the police to give you the coins that were in my left pocket - for those are Percy's."

Producing Tom's jacket out of evidence, the Sargent reached into the pocket mentioned and pulled out a handful of pennies. These he held out to Percy.

"Is this your money, lad?"

"I believe so, sir." Accepting the coins, Percy counted it quickly. Upon reaching the full sum of a dollar, he announced. "Yes, sir, this is the money I earned."

Percy carefully set aside twenty five cents in one pile, then ten in another. These he laid on the counter near Tom.

"Here, Tom. This is the payment for my room, and for the dinner you advanced me."

After that he carefully counted out another quarter.

"Will you take this for Dick? I should wish to repay him for the papers as well."

"Who is this Dick?" Mr. Long asked cautiously.

Percy smiled slightly. "Dick is a knowing boy who helped me purchase papers to peddle, but Tom is the one who took care of me."

Mr. Long looked to Tom, who gave a confirming nod.

"Then you think yourself a honest lad?", Long asked.

"I try to be so, sir, and would surely never rob a fellow of his paper money."

"And tell me Tom - if I should call a physician to observe that care? What should he say?"

Tom was outraged!

"You could not think I beat him, sir!. I swore I should treat Percy as my little brother , and so I did!"

Mr. Long ignored that and pressed forward. "And now? What do you expect?"

"If Percy goes to good fortune, then I shall be glad for his sake."

"No, Tom!" Percy flung himself forward to embrace his friend. " I do not wish to leave you. You promised."

"I promised to care for you as my brother," Tom said slowly. "If my own blood had such a chance to be beforehand in the world, I should not want him to loose it over concern for me. You father seems a caring man, and if he will be kind to you then I shall be happy."

So hearing, Mr. Long reached a decision.

"You tell quite a tale, Mr. Lance." he said. " Will you write that story down and sign it."

"Yes, sir, for it is true, and thus I could not deny it," Tom answered, "although I find signing things has generally been to my loss."

Mr. Long looked at the Sargent.

"Unshackle him, then."

The police captain produced a paper, and Tom sat at the counter to write the entire account of the affair as best he remembered it. When it was done Mr. Long collected the sheets.

"This does not look to be the kidnappers handwriting." He held one page out to Mr. Roland Vench, who had been the one to discover the ransom note, and another to Miss Snubbs, who had been next to read it. "This hand is much more refined and careful."

Vench dismissed that. "He could change it.

"Not easily for so long a missive."

Long showed the papers to the Sargent.

"On this evidence, I think we must incline to believe the story and count him innocent."

"Very well sor." The Sargent pulled out his ring of keys. " But it troubles me to let him go without bail. What if we should have a wish to question him? He should be best kept close, even as a witness."

Percy spoke out. "Could not Tom come home with us?"

"What?" Vench sputtered. "Do not be foolish, child."

Percy addressed his father. "Tom shared his room with me. Should I not be glad to do likewise?"

Vench likewise addressed Mr. Long. "You can not have a street boy in your house! What of your son? Shall a street boy be close to him?"

"This street boy has already been close with my son. Now I think I shall keep him close to me."

Mr. Long spoke confidingly to the Sargent. "If the boy was under my eyes, we should soon discover if he was inclined to mischief."

"Very true, sor. If you was to watch him, that should be jake to me."

"So be it."

Thus satisfied, the Sargent quickly undid Tom's shackles and returned his coat.

Mr. Long turned to Tom. "If you will give me your word to stay with me and cause no trouble, I will ask them to release you to my recognizance."

"I do not know you sir, but if Percy thinks it well I shall certainly swear so."

"Yes, Tom," Percy urged. "Do come, for I should want to have your company above all the world. You can share my bed tonight."

"He shall come with us, at least for tonight," Mr. Long said. "As for the matter of beds? I think on that topic I may have my own opinion."

Chapter Ten: Tom Goes Uptown

There was the usual delays of civil matters, made unusually swift as such events usually are when in consideration of the will of millionaires. Within the hour Tom was bound over to Mr. Long upon their mutual promise that he should appear might the police desire any further conversation with him. While Tom would have preferred his freedom without `strings', he was yet inclined to find Mr. Longs hospitality far preferable to gentle attentions of the civil authorities.

The removal to Mr. Longs mansion we shall pass over without recounting, Suffice it to say that between the joyful chatter of little Percy and the chill silence of Mr. Vench and Miss Snubbs, the occurrence of true conversation was much impeded. Thus Tom had little chance to learn of his future.

Their arrival at Mr. Long's mansion was equally inhibited. Although the dimming light concealed many extravagant features, the sheer size of the structure was sufficient to overawe.

Tom spoke to Percy, who had swiftly jumped down from the carriage.

"By heavens, what a fine building, Which is your place?"

"On the third floor, Tom, just like yours!"

"I did not know flats came this fine."

Overhearing, Miss Snubbs addressed Tom repressively.

"They do not, young man. This is a private home."

Viewing the exchange, Mr. Vench turned to Mr. Long.

"Really, Harry. You must see how unsuited the boy is. If you feel the need to keep him as a witness, I could perhaps find some farm family..."

Long cut him off. "I think young Tom has had enough of farming. I have another position in mind for him."

In ignorance of the men's conversation, Tom followed an exuberant Percy up the near stairs to the mentioned floor.

Percy's room - or rather I should say suite - was a bright assembly of parlor and bed-chamber set in the corner of the mansion. Large windows gave a clear view of the darkened lawns,and in the day promised to grant the abode all the bright promise of the suns salubrious warmth. For the evening, gaslights sufficed to show the wide oak bed made up deeply with quilts and feather pillows.

Percy rushed into the room and flung himself upon the yielding mattress.

"See,Tom. I have a big bed," he said. "There will be room for you and me and Dick as well if you should desire him."

"Say rather if your father should desire him, which I must think he should not."

Indeed, Tom thought, I do not think he much desires me, but only allows this at the child pleading. Tom was deeply moved. While his own beloved mother - for thus he still privately thought of Mrs. Lance - had been gentle in her nature, she had never thought to `spoil' Tom with unwarranted indulgences. Percy was indeed blessed, Tom considered as he surveyed the princely surroundings.

Against Percy's urgings, Tom was supplied with a room of his own. It was what the upper ten thousand would have considered plain, being a room reserved for such persons as tutors and visiting clergy, but from Tom's limited experience he was more inclined to think it palatial.

Percy was less impressed.

"Why will you not sleep with me, Tom?"

"This is a good place, Percy."

"But what if I should have nightmares again? Who would hold me?"

"Perhaps Miss Snubbs."

Percy made a face at that name.

"I don't think I should like to be held by her held as much as I like to be held by you."

Tom embraced the boy.

"Do not fret. I am right down the hall so that you may come if you are troubled at night."

While they were so conversing, Miss Snubbs came in. She was wearing an apron, and over her arm she carried a heavy towel.

"There you are, Master Percy," she said. "I swear, I thought you were vanished away again!"

"Sorry, Miss Snubbs," Percy replied.

If his tone lacked sincerity, the gentle reader must not hold it much against him. Few boys are pleased at the prospect of a bath.

Miss Snubbs took Percy by the arm.

"Come along. If you are to appear for dinner, we must get you thoroughly cleaned. Who knows what you picked up in your... adventure."

"Come with me, Tom."

Percy latched on to Tom's hand even as Miss Snubbs pulled Percy down the hall.

"Father has installed a Roman bathtub, and If you promise not to pull my ears the way Betsy does, I shall share it with you."

Tom stopped in the doorway, shocked by the extravagance.

"Good heavens, Percy. Is this for bathing or for swimming?"

"I would like to go swimming, but Miss Snubbs does not approve of water sports."

"Give me no more trouble, Master Percy! You must go alone. I shall certainly *not* have the bathing of a big boy like Tom. Bad enough I must tend to you."

Tom turned politely to the lady.

"Thank you, Miss Snubbs. You are so right. Truly, this is no task for a gentle lady as yourself. I shall have a care for Percy, and you need not doubt I shall clean his ears gently."

Thus stating, Tom took the towels and closed the door.

Miss Snubbs started to open it, but the consideration that Tom might have removed his shirt already was enough to send her to the small parlor in some disorder.

Gentle reader, we must also forgive Percy's cries of glee at seeing the unyielding nemesis of so many school days so swiftly routed by one he was more and more coming to see as his conquering hero. It is not to be doubted that his dances and shouts of delight, while heart-felt at the moment of rout , were yet innocent of any real disdain for the lady. Miss Snubbs had her good qualities, and in his best moments Master Percy would be the first to grant them. If we now find master Percy not at this best, the sweeter spirit will consider events and so let his impulses pass as childhoods nature.

Taking in the vast expanse of tile and marble that made up the bathing chamber, Tom quickly stoked up the parlor stove which sat in one corner of the room.

"We shall want it warm. Where is the water bucket?"

"None is needed, Tom. Father installed a gas heater for the water. Just light it, and the water shall be warm for us."

Tom did so as Percy, trained by long observation, adjusted the flowing taps. He reached for the Ivory, but as he was small and the tub very large, it slipped from his grasp.

"Oh, Tom, I have dropped the soap!"

"No matter. It shall be there when we need it."

So ignoring the resultant foam, Tom urged his young companion into the tub. Percy responded readily, and so they were swiftly installed among the bubbles.

"Oh, that feels good!" Percy exclaimed.

"So it should." Tom answered. "Lean over a bit."

"Like this?"

"Perfect. Here, hand me more soap."

"Must I?"

"You will be the better for it."

"Ouch! That stung."

"That is because it has been to long since you last had this done. I wish we might have done it this morning, but there was no time before we had to fetch our papers."

"Very well, Tom, I shall trust you. But do be gentle."

"I shall, but your hair *must* be washed."

After their exercises they redressed in bath-robes and retired to Percy's chambers. Percy's former street clothes were returned with apologies to the pot boy, who had not missed them as they were his oldest and least distinguished outfit, and over vehement objections Miss Snubs required the boy to redress in a velvet suit of the most formal sort.

A more adult evening suit was acquired for Tom from the wardrobe of Mr. Long's valet.

Mr. Vench had made suggestion of Tom dining in the kitchen, and having had a view of that gastronomic treasure house such a plan would have gone well with Tom. It was now the more recommended by the consideration of the starched white shirt that the valet was now offering in place of Tom's familiar flannel.

Tom was uncertain of borrowing such fine clothing, but the man-servant assured Tom that he would not be permitted to dine - even in the kitchen - in such rags as he had left after his time in custody. As Tom was now very hungry, it did not take overmuch persuasion to allow himself to be swayed.

****************************

Supper itself was a matter of six courses.

This being a `family' evening, there were no guests past Mr. Vench (who considered himself `family) Miss Snubbs (who considered herself entitled)- and Tom, who at the sight of the buffet board considered himself blessed.

Tom had not before experienced such elegance, but his mother's training and his natural wit permitted him to handle the implements with apparent ease. If he had any doubts, he needed only to consult with Percy. That lad, buoyant with the spirit of a fellow- conspirator, was ever eager to send his friend the `hint'.

The conversation was general, although Tom held back. He did not wish to be thought pushing, and indeed felt he could offer little to so elevated a company. It was entertainment enough, he thought, that he might listen to Mr. Long's fine baritone. Whatever the subject, that voice was a pleasure to Tom's ears. He did not think he could ask the world for a greater reward.

They had reached the pudding when Mr. Long made his declaration.

"Percy, my son. You know you must tell me why you took your leave of this house."

"I am afraid, Father."

"Yes, son, But I require you now to call up your courage and answer me truthfully. It is your duty."

"Yes, sir. I ... I disobeyed Miss Snubbs and went into your office."

"That was not well done. Why did you do so?"

"I wanted to see my mothers picture. But instead" -and here Percy fought back a few tears - "I broke it! And she said I was no son of yours and that you should whip me!"

"Miss Snubbs, is that true?"

"It is true the picture was broken. For that I did rebuke him, and likewise for entering you office without permission; but I surely did not think he must take it to run away."

"Very well, the picture shall be mended and we will speak no more of it. As for the matter of my office? You know that was wrong to disobey, Percy. You shall write me an essay on obedience."

"Yes, sir."

Percy was not pleased, for what lad is at the prospect of penance, but he was resigned to perform this task.

Mr. Long continued.

"In the future I think your mother's picture may rest in your room, for I would not deprive Annie of her son."

"Thank you, Father!"

Percy rushed over to embrace his parent.

"Go upstairs now with Miss Snubbs, and I shall come up later."

When they were departed, Mr. Long addressed the remaining company.

"There is still the matter of the ransom note. You say you found it on my desk, Vench?"

"Quite so, Harry. I had come by the house to drop off the Mott Street deeds - and of course to spend a moment with Young Percy - and saw it laying open upon your desk."

"Written with my own pen upon my own paper. This is a strange matter."

"No doubt one of the low types - a carter or some such - who constantly loll about in your kitchen noted the lads departure and thought to turn the observation to some unlawful profit. I have spoken to cook several times about her promiscuous welcome , but lack the authority to do more. You should insist that the lower classes depart when they are finished, not take their ease on your coffee and your cakes."

"I shall surely discuss her visitors with cook."

Mr. Long said this to keep peace. He did plan to discuss the visitors with cook, but with an eye to specifics of name and nature, and not with the thought of limiting her goodwill. Having `come up' himself, Mr. Long took a more liberal view of the guests of his kitchen, and was little inclined to harshen their labors.

"And this boy Tom." Mr. Vench pressed. "He should be questioned closely."

Tom spoke up.

"Mr. Vench is right sir. I know myself innocent, but I can give you no testament to this matter."

"My impulse is to trust you,Tom. You seem to be everything that is to be desired in a lad. Still, the matter is a grave one. After dinner we shall all retire to my study. I have summoned a visitor who shall put us both at ease."

**************

Mr. Long lead the two men - or rather one man and a growing boy - into his library. There a gray-haired man in scholarly tweeds sat pouring over Tom's testimony.

"Dr. Chaerletan is a famed French handwriting expert and moralist."

The host introduced the man to his company.

"This is the young man, Tom Lance, whom I had asked you to observe."

Dr. Chaerletan took Tom's head in both hands and examined him closely.

"Yes, yes. The phrenology backs my earlier conclusions. This lad could never be a criminal."

"Thank you, Doctor. I am grateful for your efforts."

At that, Mr. Long handed the Doctor several large bills.

"I must go now, but my full report is on the table."

"Mr. Vance? If you would show the Doctor out? For I know you must be going home yourself?"

Mr. Vench looked a bit surprised, but answered civilly enough.

"Certainly, Harry."

When both men were gone, Mr. Long addressed Tom.

"I would like to have cleared you in my own judgment, but I felt the need to be confirmed. Percy is my only son, and all I have left of my happiest youth. His mother Annie was first my dear partner's wife. Robert, her spouse, had been my friend since our college days, and she was his childhood sweetheart. Upon graduation he wed her. Then we began our maritime ventures together."

He stepped to the desk, taking up a miniature of a fair-haired man with bright blue eyes. The subject was a handsome fellow in every way, and an observant wit might note that he bore a close resemblance to our hero. But we hall pass on that for now, as Mr. Long requires our attention.

"After Robert died, and his infant son vanished, I felt I should not go on myself. But Annie was likewise crushed by the double loss. I could not abandon the last emblem of my dear friend. Thus we were wed."

Harold Long took up another picture, this so similar that the two subjects might have been thought brother and sister.

"I fear I was not the best husband to her. Dear Annie was delicate, and often forced to travel to spa's where I could not accompany her. Still, it was my joy to see to her care. Then, of course, she gave me Percy, for which I must always bless her memory."

Harold Long turned to Tom.

"So you see I must be careful where my son is concerned."

"Indeed, sir, I must commend your vigilance."

Long set down the pictures carefully.

"Would that my dear Robert's son had not been lost. I had so dreamed Percy and he might be as close friends as his father and myself."

Picking up the doctors report, Mr. Long handed the sheet to Tom.

"Here I have my proof. Dr. Chaerletan has looked over both letters, and has proclaimed you incapable of writing the ransom note."

"Oh sir!" Ton exclaimed. "I am so grateful I could kiss you!"

"So you may, if you wish."

Long held open his arms and Tom flew into them, much as he had seen Percy do just minutes before.

Their lips met. Tom's were warm and sweet, Long realized with some shock, and softer than he had thought a street-boys lips might be. He fiercely resisted the impulse to open for the hansom young man. Tom intended this only to reward his paternal kindness, Long reminded himself firmly, and in his youthful nievitie could not conceive any ill results to his innocently-offered affection.

Still, Long could not resist a moments dwelling on sensation of the muscular young arms that now encircled his shoulders and the hard chest that pressed so warmly against his own.

How like his remembered Robert this boy was. For Roberts memory, Long decided, he would protect Tom henceforth.

With an effort, Harold Long set Tom gently aside.

"Did you kiss your father so?"

"I fear I had none, so I followed Percy's exemplar. No doubt that is why your regard affects me so strongly. Were covetousness not sinful, I think I should envy Percy your paternal embrace."

So much gratitude shall be the death of me. Long thought to himself, but he said nothing. Even so, Tim saw the cloud pass his beloved friends face, and was heartsick.

"Was I wrong, Sir? I should wish to do nothing that would prevent my regaining your good opinion."

"No, Tom, you have done no wrong. My esteem of you is rising swiftly. Indeed, it has hardened in your favor. From now on, no matter what, I shall believe no ill of you."

"I am thankful for that, sir." Tom said. "While I am glad of Dr. Chaerletan's good word, I would prefer to be considered innocent by way of character rather then penmanship.

"You are a good lad, Tom. I know feel I owe you thanks for your care of my son. Is there anything might do to please you?"

"Please, sir. If I might send a letter to my old lodgings? For I do owe a boy there twenty-five cents."

"And you would pay him promptly?"

"Yes sir. He likely lost his papers in the brangle, and so will have the greater need of it. Besides which he is out a good half of tonight's rent."

"You are most considerate. Give me his name, and I will see my sons debts are paid in full. But beyond that? Have you no personal desires?"

"If you might recommend me for some honest post? For I fear I have lost much of todays profits, and so will need to begin my labors again."

Mr. Long sighed slightly at this virtuous reply.

"I had thought to keep you here, for my son is very fond of you."

"And I of him!" Tom said. "But I can not think I am fit to be a nursemaid, and in any case that position is filled. So, glad though I am of Percy's friendship, I think I should find my support for myself.

Mr. Long gave Tom his hand.

"That is a manly attitude. I shall send around to my friends, and no doubt one of them shall have need of an office boy or messenger. But I shall insist that you accept at least one more days hospitality, as you have expended as much to my son."

"For that I should be grateful, sir."

Chapter Eleven: Tom and the Night Visitors

Tom had finished his evenings ablutions and settled into the new bed. The effects of the rich food atop of the long and eventful day was tiring enough to tempt him to sleep straightaway his head reached his pillow, but Tom held off in order to revel in the sensation of crisp linen sheets over a deep featherbed. He was just enjoying one last snuggle into the swans down bolster when the hallway door flew open.

It was Miss Snubbs, wrapped in a flannel night-robe and holding a lamp.

Tom, hindered by the layers of yielding featherbeds, struggled to become upright.

"Miss Snubbs."

"Hush Tom Lance. It is my duty to see all boys in this house safe abed. Did you wash your ears?"

While confused, Tom answered politely. "Yes, Miss Snubbs, but.."

"I shall be the judge of that."

Grasping the aforementioned ear, Miss Snubbs turned Tom's head, raising her light so it shone closely upon his face.

"Humm.... acceptable." the nursery-governess granted grudgingly. " Your fingernails?"

Tom held out his hands. He rather thought he was over-old for such observation, but he knew his country rearing had left him ignorant of many of the practices of fine society. If his dignity was offended, this was nothing in Tom's mind compared to the dread of being shown up as a `bumpkin' to Mr. Longs sophisticated household.

"They could be better, but I shall let it pass."

"Your feet?"

"What?" Tom protested.

For all his hesitation to displease, the room was chill and Tom did not wish to remove his toes from the warm nest the thick quilts created.

Ignoring Tom's hesitation, Miss Snubbs flung back the counterpane

"Your feet?" she repeated, glaring at the mentioned articles. "I suppose they are clean enough. Roll over."

"Miss Snubbs, I do not think.."

"Nor should you. I am in charge here."

Clasping him by the shoulder, Miss Snubbs rolled Tom over and lifted his nightshirt.

"Yes.. clean enough," she granted, sounding all the more displeased. "Although I do think you could have good profit from a dose of oils, or better yet a through clonic." Miss Snubbs dropped back the nightshirt. "I shall schedule one for tomorrow."

Tom scrambled for the covers.

"I think Mr. Long," Tom began uncertainly.

"Will most certainly approve. He would not want any uncleanly lads about his son."

So saying, Miss Snubbs reached down to grip Tom privately though the sheet.

"Humm," she muttered, feeling carefully. "A bit swollen. I hope you do not indulge in any filthy habits, young man?"

"None until now, ma'am," Tom assured her fervently.

"Very well, but you best remember to behave yourself."

With that, Miss Snubbs took her lamp and departed, closing the door behind her.

"Mr. Long asked what I should like," Tom mused. "If I had the hope of staying here, I think I should require for a key to this room. Her attention my be all that is proper for dear Percy, but I am not accustomed to so fine a service, and I fear my nerves could not long support it."

Tom considered he might ease the problem thus created in his accustomed manner, but mindful of Miss Snubb's directive in instead disciplined his flesh with unpleasant thoughts. Not that he had much concern for the nursery-maids opinions, but this was Mr. Long's house, and to some degree her directives were then his.

Mr. Long, by his noble actions, had become Tom's hero. Tom would prefer to die before offending, and the thought that so elegant and perfect a gentleman should find Tom the subject of unruly youthful impulses was more reproach than Tom could endure.

So resolved, Tom ignored his discomforts and settled himself to sleep.

****

Tom had succumbed to Morpheus, and was thus unaware of his next visitor until a youthful voice summoned him back to mortality.

"Tom. Tom!"

Tom opened his eyes to the vision of of his youthful friend standing beside the bed. His bare feet were crossed beneath the hem of his white flannel night-shirt, and with his left arm he clutched a battered stuffed bear.

"Percy! What is it?"

Tom was concerned, for even in the dimness of the night-light he could see how young Percy's pink cheeks glistened with crystal tears.

"I had another bad dream, Tom."

Tom leaned back, and Percy clambered up on the bed. With a few swift movements, Percy soon had himself insinuated beneath the covers and tucked up snugly against Tom's side.

"Like you had last night?"

"No, Tom, not that one."

"What, then?"

Percy said nothing, merely burying his face in Tom's shoulder.

"Come now, Percy. You have sworn to obey me, and I have asked what you dreamed."

Percy nuzzled his head deeper into Tom's shoulder, but at last confessed.

"I was dreaming again that Miss Snubbs came to my bed and bit me."

"Bit you?"

"Yes. I dreamed I was asleep, and she came in and pulled down all my covers."

"The covers? That must have seemed cold?

"It was, for I dreamed I had no nightshirt. Or rather that she took it from me. Then she picked up my legs just like a turkey wishbone..."

"Like this?" Tom prompted, grasping Percy's ankles playfully.

"Exactly like that."

"And then?"

"Then she bit my winky."

"What?" Tom sat up straighter.

"She took it in her mouth and she *bit* it."

"Off? That must have hurt!"

"No, not ... not exactly. Not that manner of a bite. It was more like she chewed on it awhile. It felt vastly strange, but I should not say it hurt precisely."

"Then why were you crying?"

"Because what if next time she does bite it off? Whatever should I do without a winky?"

At that thought Percy again fell prey to tears.

"Sweet Percy." Tom embraced the crying boy. "Come into my arms. I shall hold you tonight, and you need not fear that I shall let any harm come to your winky."

"Oh, thank you, Tom! You are the best of brothers."

********

Again Tom, now accompanied, descended to the realms of Morpheus, and again was his slumber interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

On this occasion it was Mr. Long who's broad-shouldered form filled the portal to Tom's sanctuary.

"Tom, have you seen my....?" Mr. Long began, only to cut off at the pageant enacted before his eyes.

"Ah, Percy my dearest, there you are." Mr. Long clasped his son on the shoulder. "You must not keep Tom from his sleep."

Tom blinked, scanning from one welcome visitor to another."Really, sir, he is no bother."

Percy likewise protested. "But father, I need him for my winky."

"Pardon?"

Tom clarified quickly. "Percy had a bit of a nightmare about Miss Snubbs. Just a silly dream, but it upset him."

Percy nodded. "I dreamed she bit my winky."

"So you hear, sir. Nothing at all to merit concern. Still?" Tom smiled down at his little companion. "Percy has been through much these last days. He shall sleep better tonight if he is held."

Mr. Long frowned.

"Miss Snubbs believes Percy is to old to be held."

Tom had little regard for Miss Snubbs, and indeed his esteem for the lady was decaying by the moment, but he also had no wish to debate with Mr. Long.

"I shall do as you wish, sir, but..."

Tom said nothing more, relying on Percy's innocent face to make his own plea. Nor did that weapon prove ineffective. At the sight of his son's childish tears, the heretofore invincible Mr. Long was put utterly to rout.

So realizing, the businessman considered a studied withdrawal as his wisest maneuver.

"Very well," Mr. Long said, dropping a last kiss on Percy's curls. "I shall leave you two to your rest."

"No, Daddy." Percy clutched the sleeve of his fathers bed-gown. "Don't go! I shall feel all the safer with you as well."

"I must." Long smiled. "Tom must have his sleep, and so I must leave him his bed."

Percy said nothing, but the tears again flowed over his apple cheeks. Tom's heart was no more proof against such persuasions then was his senior.

"Really sir," Tom said, folding back the counterpane. "This mattress is twice the width of my previous couch, and we commonly slept two abed there. If you would not mind a bit of company, you could easily claim the other side, and Percy might rest between us."

"Yes, Father," Percy pleaded. "Do not be hard! I would have you to one side and Tom to the other. Then I could not fear anyone should harm me."

"And Teddy shall guard at the head?"

"I like sleeping with Teddy, for you gave him to me, but Tom is ever so much nicer to cuddle."

Mr. Long stepped back. "I must take your word, I fear."

"No papa! Stay, and I shall let you cuddle Teddy and Tom too if you should like."

I should like it very much, Mr. Long thought. And that was the problem. He had promised himself he should guard this young man in his beloved Richard's memory, but the same resemblance which had prompted his altruistic impulse now prompted others less philanthropic. Still, in the face of his child's tears Mr. Long had no defenses.

"As you will," he conceded, slipping under the covers on the side farthest from Tom.

"Move closer, sir." Tom urged. "If you cling so to the edge, I fear you should wake up stiff."

"Yes, papa. Join your arms with Tom's and I shall have a nest between your chests."

Thus the nights disposition was achieved.

So, gentle reader, we leave Tom, Percy, and Mr. Long to their innocent repose, and move elsewhere for the manner of our events.

*******

Equally interrupted were the dreams of Miss Snubbs, although I must leave the reader to judge the value of her arousal. I shall say nothing more then to give the facts of her nocturnal congress.

"Sally!" came the hissing in her ear.

"Mr. Vench!"

Sally Snubbs clutched the red wool sheet to her narrow bosom.

"Miss Snubbs." Roland Vench answered, seating himself on the side of her bed.

"I thought you had gone for home."

"I had a need to see you."

"Oh!, Roland."

I fear, gentle reader, that the ladies modest caution was no match for the snare of masculine flattery. Thus are many lead astray, But as for Miss Snubbs particular case, as I have said, I shall recount and leave to the reader any judgment.

"But what if someone should see you? You said it was to dangerous while..."

"The house is asleep. Besides, I did not come for that."

"What!" Sally Snubbs hissed.

Vench answered her outrage with a kiss. "Well, not only for that. Although you must know how I miss you when we are parted, and live for the day I might claim you for my wife."

"Roland." The nursemaid softened against his chest. "We could..."

"No." Roland Vench set her back firmly. "If I can not support you then I will not wed you. You know I am firm."

"Very," she purred, reaching out to rub his shoulder.

"Not now, Sally."

"But Roland," Sally sighed. "You do not know what it is like to dream of a man - a strong, virile, man - and to watch without hope as he pays court to another.

"That, I understand." Roland muttered, half below his breath.

"Roland?"

Roland Vench took his ladies hand and raised it to his lips.

"I mean, I understand what it is to desire love, because I so desire yours."

"Oh, Roland. Then why can we not be married."

"We can. Soon, I hope, if my plan goes well. You must help me."

"Gladly." She ran her hand down his side.

"You must help me become first in Brother Harry's life."

"How?" She held up her face for a kiss. "Peter is back closer to his father then ever, and now there is that Tom boy."

"Precisely." Vench brushed the upraised lips. "The boy troubles me beyond reason. There is something in the looks of our new visitor. I can not place it just now, but I shall."

Roland Vench took Sally Snubbs by the shoulders and looked fiercely into her eyes.

"In the mean time, you must keep an eye on him. See he comes no closer to my brother-in-law than he is right now."

The young woman looked down.

"I am only a weak woman, but I shall try."

"You must succeed!"

"Anything you desire, my Roland. You know I can not resist you."

Thus satisfied at her obedience, Vench pulled her close.

"And I shall look for some strong shaft to thrust between them."

Chapter Twelve: A Decent Proposal

Mr. Long awoke at first light. Such was his custom, and of itself would be no matter for remark, but on this morning he awoke in a strange and apparently narrow bed. His back was nearly out of the blankets and any movement forward was thwarted by a seemingly impassable barrier. Further, there was a weight on his lower arm, and another across both his legs, that held his limbs fast as if they were caught in leather bonds.

Long blinked, and the situation resolved itself. The limbs were those of his young guest. Both Tom and Percy's heads now rested on the arm he had stretched beneath their pillow, and Tom's upper leg extended below Percy's knees and between his own thighs.

Memory returned, and on it's heels judgment.

Harold Long sighed. He should never have allowed Percy's' pleas to sway him, but the memory of his son vanished had broken his resistance. Further, the chance to rest - howsoever innocently - in the embrace of the fine young arms that reminded him so much of his beloved Richard's had proved an irresistible lure. But now it was morning, and in the cold hour of dawn his body's aches were both rebuke and punishment for the indulgences of the night.

Moving carefully so as not to disturb the younger man, Harold Long gently eased his arm out from under the somnolent youth.

"Yes, Dick?" Tom muttered as he woke. "Oh! It is you, Mr. Long."

"I'm sorry, Tom. I did not mean to intrude upon your rest."

"No intrusion at all, sir. Indeed, I have never rested better, or with more pleasant dreams. Could I always rest so well, I should be blessed indeed."

Mr. Long smiled and gathered up his child.

"You may remain abed, but I must take Percy back to his own quarters before Miss Snubbs makes her morning rounds and finds him gone."

"She would object?"

Percy yawned, awoken by the conversation. "Miss Snubbs objects to everything."

"Nonsense, Percy," Mr. Long corrected his son. "You must not speak so about the lady. She is just ardent of you growing into a gentleman. But with the kidnapping so recent in every mind, I would fear an apoplexy if she again thought you vanished. So - you must hie back to your own bed, and I to mine."

"As you wish, Father. Tomorrow night, Tom, you should start off in mine. It is ever so much wider, and..."

Tom laughed.

"Oh, Percy! I think your father should have an opinion as to the question of beds."

Indeed I do, thought Mr. Long, although if I should is perhaps another matter. I shall need to deal carefully with young Tom if I am to do him well. Still, aloud he said nothing.

*************

Breakfast that morning followed the pattern of the night before.

Tom, who was more accustomed to bread and coffee - or at most eggs and a bit of bacon - none the less found the long buffet and it's numerous silver-covered dishes well suited to his youthful appetites.

Mr. Long, who's appetites had matured with the years, contented himself with toast and kippers.

Tom hesitated as he compared the two plates.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did I take to much?"

"No, Tom. I am happy to gratify your appetite. If indeed you are sure that a slice of ham is sufficient to fulfill all your desires."

"All I dare ask of you, sir, and more then I could expect."

"Oh, I should gladly satisfy any appetite, and I do not think it would be overmuch a strain on my resources."

Tom blushed.

"You are too kind, sir. I only wish I could find some manner to requite all all the affections you have shown me."

"I do not doubt, Tom, some object shall come up that you might handle for me."

"I hope it may, sir, for any way I could service you would be my delight."

So they ate in peace, with Percy occupying Tom in boyish conversation as Mr. Long dealt with the mornings messages.

It was after, Miss Snubbs having taken Percy off to his tutor, that Tom and Mr. Long were left alone at the breakfast table. Tom was loath to bring up a topic that might discomfort his benefactor, but he felt he had no choice.

"Sir." Tom began carefully. "Mr. Long. I feel I must say something... about the conditions of my presence here."

"If I have made you in any way uncomfortable..."

"Never, sir! You have been all that is wonderful. In our every interaction, I have felt so... blessed by your kind attentions. Still.."

"Yes, Tom? If you are not unhappy, then what is it that you need?"

"I think I should get my own place, sir."

"My lawyer advises that you stay here, since I have taken responsibility for you."

"I had not thought of that, sir. It is not that I do not wish to remain, only that I should not wish to be an imposition on your goodwill."

"Your presence could never make me unhappy, Tom. But to keep your independence, you may give Cook the quarter a night that you were wont to pay on Fifth street."

"But sir, your house is so much finer."

"That is not to be helped. If I am a business man, I must take the market as it comes."

So between Percy's desire and Mr. Long's insistence, Tom was persuaded to remain. Thus the first part of Tom's future was settled. Conversation quickly brought them to the second part.

"Naturally, if you are determined to make your own way you will require some post."

"Indeed, sir. I could sell papers again, for I still have the coins for a fresh bundle, but.."

"That is not much for your future. You deserve richer, and I have to tool to deliver it."

"But you have already overwhelmed me with your generosity, and filled me utterly with the evidence of your care."

"Hardly so much, Tom. At least not yet." Mr. Long smiled. "You must not credit me with more then my due. Let me think a bit, I am sure I could help you into a position that would satisfy us both."

"If you could, sir, I should be deeply gratified. I am sure any position you suggested I should be delighted to assume."

Gratified at the sentiment, Mr. Long nodded as he pulled out his memorandum book.

"Of course, if you are to represent me in the business world, I fear I must get you some better suits. No matter, I shall send around, and no doubt my tailor can fit us in."

"Please, sir, I can not accept such gifts."

"You shall need the clothes to make a good impression."

"Still, sir, I should rather have your respect than all the suits on the East Side."

Mr. Long smiled as he dashed off a note.

"I am a wealthy man. You know that. Do you not think I should gladly give you more than a simple suit for one of your kisses?"

Tom blushed.

"The kisses you may have, and more then one, but not for pay. Only for the love your kindness has inspired. I have never had a father, not missed one, but a day of your company has planted in my breast a deep ache for my loss."

Mr. Long opened his arms, and Tom stepped into them. If this kiss lacked the ferverent passion of the one offered the night before, it more then compensated by the skill Tom had gained from the prior encounter. This time it was Tom's arms which encircled the older man's shoulders and drew him close. This time it was Tom's chest which curved forward to rest it's length against one equally hard and masculine. This time it was Tom's lips who softened and fell open.

Long pulled back, shuddering with the temptation of tasting the treasure so unknowingly laid out before him. For, even with Tom's generous compliance, Mr. Long had no question the boy was sinlessly ignorant of the carnal temptation he so unknowingly presented.

Deprived of lips, Tom dropped his head against his benefactor's shoulder.

"If I did not so love Percy, I fear I should envy him your devotion. Indeed, I do not know if I can contain all the mercies you have poured out for me.Your every act has been thrust out to fill me with the milk of human kindness."

"Then will you not allow that kindness to sponsor you? For truly, your affection is more a treasure then all the wealth I possess."

"I thank you for that sentiment, and assure you I treasure your affection beyond recounting. Even so, it would not be proper to accept more then I give."

"I suppose..." Mr. Long sat back a moment in thought. "Do I recall that you placed fifty dollars in trust with Farmer McDonald?"

"I should not say I had much trust in him sir, but it is true that he had from my hand fifty dollars."

"If you had that money, would you hesitate to purchase the suits required for your new circumstances?"

"Were it needful, sir, no. But I do not think I shall ever get my money out of Farmer McDonald."

"Do you so doubt MY ability to collect my debts?"

"You sir? No sir!"

"Then you shall sign the the debt as a bond over to me.. and I shall return you its value as required."

"That would be a great kindness, sir, but I can not believe it is fair. How shall you recover your outlay?"

"I have experience in the purchasing of bonds - it is not uncommon to deal in factoring and debts - and I do not doubt that I collect something from this McDonald. As you have recounted him to me I have become positively eager that my agent should have dealings with him. Indeed, I know just the man to dispatch to do that job."

"Then - if you do so in the way of business , sir - I shall certainly count it a good thing."

Mr. Long smiled broadly. "Oh, I do not doubt the man I send will handle this McDonald most thoroughly. My agent is most firm in such propositions, and once he has the bent of matters I have
no question but that he shall collect on my investment in the end."

With matters thus settles, Tom was delighted to obey Mr. Longs every suggestion.

******************

Such was a circumstance which, one might think, would leave the household in general happiness. Sadly, such was not the case. While the news of Tom continuance was received with public applause, one of the smiling observers was, in her heart, less than pleased.

The moment he arrived on the doorstep, Miss Snubbs pulled Mr. Vench aside to give him the news.

"I am sorry, Ronald. I had to go with Percy, and by my return the damage was already done. I can not think how it could happen overnight, but I fear this Tom is fast becoming a particular favorite of Mr. Longs."

"I have thought on the question." Vench answered her. "It is because of his great resemblance to his old partner, Robert. Did you not note it?"

"Not until you mentioned it. I have only seen the man in his picture. But now that you mention it, I too observe the similarities. Indeed, one might think them father and son."

"I do not think that fact has gone unnoticed by Harry."

Miss Snubbs blushed deeply. "Do you think - this boy Tom - that he might indeed be one of Roberts....incidentals..."

Roland Vench snorted. "Not bloody likely. My fool sister married a... well, let us say that I would be shocked if even the first of her bastards was her husband's."

"But the resemblance?"

"Vench family always did breed true. I swear she must have gotten Percy off of some Italian, to get that dark hair. Though why she bothered." Mr. Vench made a very rude gesture. "Harry would as soon have the face of his `dear Robert' as his own."

"You think that is the attraction of this Tom lad? The memory of his partner?"

"One way or the other. I know not if Harry wants to father the boy or futter him, and I suspect my dear brother-in-law does not know either, but I am not inclined to leave him time to make up his mind. I live now in fear that Long shall favor this boy over me - perhaps even adopt him. Then I shall have no chance of a partnership."

"Truly? Could he be so unjust after all you have done?"

"Harry has already said he shall not give me Richard's share. Not unless I consent to leave this town and go out to study on one of his dreadful ships. What life is that for a man? At sea for weeks with no company but that of hard sailors."

"No, my dearest Roland. I should not wish to see you go down to sea. To envision you forced to sweat and strain, bent over some heavy crate? That is a task for rough men."

"Indeed." Vench smiled suddenly at her description. "Which might make it perfect for one lad of our acquaintance."

"Do you not think it might be a difficult life for such a lad? Subject to the ill usage of such low sorts?"

"All the better," Vench answered. "If he comes back with - less charming ways - we shall have less to worry about. If indeed, he even comes back at all."

****************

In the mean time, Mr. Long had taken Tom about to his own tailor. If that worthy workman had been `given the hint' to make his charges more in line with Tom's pockets then with the gentleman's usual craftsmanship, we must pardon Mr. Long the slight deceit. What is done with a good heart is done well. And if the garments so quickly produced were first planned for some other client? Those sons of privilege would as little feel the delay of their garments as they would share Tom's delight in his new wardrobe. So again we must pardon a mild deception in view of a greater good.

And good it was, as the most unyielding heart must soften at the vision of Tom in his new finery.

Mr. Long watched attentively as Tom buttoned his new shirt and vest.

"There Tom." Harold Long reached over and skillfully knotted Tom's fashionable four-in-hand tie. "You look quite the handsome young gentleman."

Tom shrugged into the well tailored jacket, which hung all the better on his firm young frame. "If you think I look right, sir?"

Long folded a handkerchief and tucked it carefully into Tom's breast pocket.

"You look... flawless. I do not see how any could resist offering you ... a position."

"I had hoped to take a position with you."

So I hope you shall, Long retorted mentally, although about the office you might be too distracting, I fear. Indeed, with that face over my desk I should never have a thought for my work.

Aloud, he only said. "I fear it should not make for a quiet office."

"Because the other lads might suspect favoritism."Tom nodded, reaching for his new hat. "I understand, sir."

"My friend Mrs. Quimm has replied that she has a place for an office boy who can read and write neatly, and is not unwilling to run errands."

Mrs. Quimm?" Tom answered cautiously. "What business is this lady in?"

"She runs a warehouse down by the docks."

"A what, sir?" Tom was shocked! Dick's warning was still clear in his memory. But he had never thought a man such as Mr. Long could have any truck with such a trade.

"Yes, Mrs. Quimm inherited several silo's from her late husband, and then bought some rail slips down by the piers. With the transhipments of iron and coal going to Detroit these days, she makes a fair penny in freight storage." Mr. Long looked up, suddenly frowning. "You are not one of those foolish boys that will not work for a woman."

Tom had heard Longs description with a sense of relief. A *warehouse*, was it? He did not think the iron trade was the one the painted women at the rail yard had had in mind.

"No, sir. If she wants me to handle boxes and such, I should be glad of such a job, sir."

"Well, that is a topic you must take up with Mrs. Quimm. Here is her direction."

Chapter Thirteen: A Hand to the Business

While Tom and Mr. Long went about the business of setting Tom up as a fashionable young gentleman, Mr. Vench was also about an errand. His, the author is sorry to confess, was not so charitable.

I fear we must follow Mr. Vench into most unsavory quarters. His usual manner would convey that he knew nothing of such an unfashionable address, but on this occasion he made his way without detour to a darkened `dive' at the poorer end of the docks. Once there, a bill was held forth to the publican. Much in the manner that one might profer a calling card, and to much the same effect.

"Is Scupper here?" Vench asked.

"Ain't seen him in weeks. He doesn't favor this sort of place."

Vench smiled. Or so I think we must name his visage for lack of a fitter term. At any rate, his lips pulled back to expose a certain portion of teeth. It was not the most amiable of expressions.

"Good. I don't either."

"Course not. Gent like you would never come past the door."

That answer received a bill similar to the first, which quickly joined it's brother in the deep pockets of the saloon-masters beer-splattered apron.

The publican stepped aside, allowing Mr. Vench access to a battered door of the common pantry sort. Inside the dark cubby, another door granted admission to yet a darker hall, leading after several turns to a barber shop of sort set up for rough sailors.

There, in the unlit hall that passed between the showers and shaving rooms, Mr. Vench found the man he sought.

"Scupper."

"Rolly?" A large black-bearded man of rather course features turned at the summons. "What are you were about? Calling out my name in this place?".

Vench grabbed the mans armed and pulled him toward one windowless closet of a room. "In here."

The man addressed as Supper latched the door and swiftly divested himself of the towel he was wearing.

"Gladly, but if you wanted a round you could just have sent a message to the boat. You didn't need to catch me here."

"Not for that!" Vench slapped away the large hand that was busying itself with the latch on his belt.

"Really?" Scupper asked as the fastener gave way.

"Oh!" Vench gasped as work callused fingers made swift work of his trouser buttons."Not that alone, then. I need another favor."

Once freed of sartorial restraint, Vench found himself bent over a conveniently situated high bench.

Scupper shoved down the last of Vench's undergarments, then grasped the bent man's nether cheeks. "Did I not do enough for you before?"

"Perhaps." Vench spread his legs. "But it seems our little problem may have reappeared."

"What?" Scupper roared as he thrust one salt-scored finger deep into Vench's back channel.

"Careful!" Vench gasped. "Harold Long has taken in a boy who goes by the name of Tom Lance."

"Lance?" Scupper spit, and used the fluid to lubricate a second finger. "Was that not...?"

"I do not yet know. Oh!" Vench shifted under the pressure. "This Tom came into town just a few days back from Smallville and, uh..."

"So?" Scupper paused a moment, permitting Vench to answer.

"That is the place I sent William Lance's wife - and the boy."

"Then you think this boy is... him?"

"It is as likely as not. He has the look of Ronald about him, and he is the right age."

"Does the old man guess?"

"Harry thinks the boy is dead. I told him the baby was swept overboard."

"So then." Scupper resumed his digital attention. "Let him have this Tom. Why should you care?"

"Because I want Harry's affection for myself."

Vench gasped as that remark earned a particularly vigorous poke.

"Oh, not like *that*!" Vench thrust back on the invading fingers. "Not unless it would encourage him to leave me his money." A wiggled invitation encouraged the fiercer attention. "In any case, this Tom constitutes too great a risk."

Scupper removed his fingers, replacing them with the head of his crimsoned manhood.

"You should have tossed over the brat for real. I told you at the time. You want me to off him?"

Scupper emphasized his words with a sturdy thrust which buried him half-length in Vench's passage.

"Careful! You - oooh - may wish to be hung, but I do not."

"I'm hung enough, if you please."

"So I observe."

Pulling back slightly, Scupper gave another thrust which completed his possession.

"Careful, hell." Scupper grabbed a handful of dangling balls, rolling them as he drove mercilessly again and again into his carnal subject. "You like it rough."

"From you. Oooo. Ah. Ah. On occasion." Vench drove back on his invader. "Oh, yes, there. Oh. oh. OH!" Vench expressed his fluid passion with a sharp cry. "I should not like prison."

Scupper made a final drive to his own release, then handed Vench the towel.

"What's the plan, then. If this Tom's here now he's a danger to us all."

"If he *stays* here." Vench wiped off his limbs, then handed back the towel. "What ship is in port?"

"Aye, that's a thought." Scupper cleaned his finders, then draped the towel back around his waist. "Send him off to Spain or Siam, and who knows if we will ever see the chap again."

************************

Tom knew nothing of Mr. Vench's `interest' in his future.

Dressed in his new suit, Tom made a call as Mr. Long had directed. The address was not an impressive one, set in an unfashionable factory district near the docks, but the building itself was of a substantial brick and the office within was neat and well furnished.

Tom showed Mr. Longs note to the first clerk, who quickly escorted the boy back to Mrs. Quimm's office.

Mrs. Quimm was a woman of middle years, and gifted with the features of the type more often described as `handsome' then beautiful. Still, she had a solid figure on which she displayed a black silk gown that charted a knowing course down the middle channel between foolish fashion and charmless sobriety.

Tom was instantly put at ease. This clearly respectable business woman could have not a thought in common with the deplorable `abbeyess'.

Tom took off his hat.

"Mrs. Quimm? Might you have some use for a boy?"

Mrs. Quimm looked Tom over with careful interest.

"You are the lad that Harold Long took in?"

"I am honored to have his acquaintance, ma'am."

"Humm," she murmured. "That somewhat limits the use I could make of you. Still, I do see his interest."

Glancing down at Long's letter, then back at Tom. she asked.

"I suppose you are looking for an easy job? Something clean, and with short hours?"

"I am looking for any post in which I may give satisfaction, ma'am. I am not at all afraid of hard work, and indeed would prefer it if I thought I might learn from it."

"Humm." Mrs. Quimm dropped the note on her desk. "If I had a opening in my warehouse heaving freight, with half days on Saturday, do you think you could handle that? It would pay four dollars a week."

"Yes, ma'am. I believe Mr. Schmidt down by the rail-yard might vouch for me, for I did some casual work for him of that very sort."

"What did he pay you?"

"A quarter for four hours, so your offer sounds very fair."

"That is a good answer, but I do not have such a job open."

Tom was confused by her statement, but he kept his tone polite. After all, the lady was in no way obligated to prefer him, so if she felt she did not suit Tom knew he must not quibble.

"I am sorry to have troubled you, ma'am. But if you will keep me in consideration should any post open?"

Tom stood, picking up his hat.

"Sit down. Tom."

"Ma'am?"

"I asked that question just to test your mettle. Too many young lads want an office job, and have no will to work. Long writes here you have a fair hand. I will offer you a place as a copyist and office boy. You will finish out correspondence and handle light deliveries. Post office, mostly. Eight to six unless we have a rush. I'll start you at seven dollars a week, and raise it as you suit. Agreed?"

"Very much so, ma'am. Shall I start at once?"

Mrs. Quimm handed Tom a stack of papers.

"Might as well. The work already has."

*****************

After supper, Tom asked to see Mr. Long in his study. This was, after all, a business matter between men.

"Sir," Tom began as soon as they were private. "You will be pleased to know that Mrs. Quimm offered me the post of a copyist at seven dollars a week."

Mr. Long stepped to the sideboard, pouring a brandy for himself and a smaller glass for Tom.

"That is not a great sum."

"It is more then I had before, and the steadiness of the work shall give me the opportunity to advance in time." Tom took a careful sip of his new beverage, then grew solemn. "I expect I shall not be paid until Friday next, so I must ask that you trust me for my board."

"Without question, Tom. You may hold your quarters as you will." Long took his place on the sofa, and gestured Tom to do likewise. "Although I must grant, if you were paying in kisses I would feel otherwise.

"But as for those sir, I am well supplied and may be in advance."

"Well supplied, are you?"

Tom took his place on the other end of the sofa.

"Over supplied, in that I retain those that I would distribute. But I confess that my incoming volume is less then I would desire."

"I shall have to see about the matter of inflow."

"If you would, sir?"

Tom fell eagerly into Long's arms, pressing his tongue past the older man's lips to savor the rich taste of brandy and spice.

Long returned the favor, reaching under Tom's jacket to test the firm heat of strong shoulders under fine linen.

Thus they lay, half entwined, until Tom pulled back with a gasp."

"Are you supplied now?" Long asked, amusement in his voice. "Or are we even? For I think you have offered back as much as you have received."

"Oh, sir." Tom thrust without thought against the hard-muscled thigh that transposed itself between his own. "If we continue, I fear I shall distribute more then you might wish."

Longs hand slid down from Tom's shoulders to the small of his back, then continued lower.

"Nonsense, Tom. You must not fear to yield such a dividend, for that is an outlay I should value above all things."

Tom closed his yes and gave his trust utterly into Mr. Long's hands.

"Then, sir, if you will, you must have it."

Chapter Fourteen: Shanghaied!

On Thursday morning, Tom set out for his new work in the gayest of spirits.

His evenings rest had been deep, and interrupted by only the most blissful and welcome dreams.

Breakfast had again been generous, even by the requirements of a growing boy, and made richer by the gracious presence of his cherished Mr. Long. Even the sour comments of the ungracious Mr. Vench and the critical Miss Snubbs could not diminish Tom's pleasure.

And now, Tom thought as he restraightened his new starched collar, he was off for his first day of his new employment.

From this day forward he would be an office boy. A contributing member of the work force of the great city of New York. While his task was not a high one, it was honorable, and gave Tom hope that - would he persevere - he might someday grow to a man worthy of even his adored Mr. Long.

"Mr. Harold R. Long." Tom smiled to himself as he rolled the name over his tongue. Not that he would ever dare so familiar an address, but no matter. It was enough to speak the name and cherish it's taste on his lips. A week ago Tom had not thought even to know such a paragon, much less to bask in such an idols affection.

Further, Mr. Long had promised that - should Tom show a talent for clerking - he might move Tom into his own offices and instruct him in the skills of double entry book-keeping. That proposition had made Tom's heart beat faster. He had prayed that he might - someday - serve some function at Mr. Long's desk, but to be entrusted to handle his hero's deposits was greater happiness then Tom could take in.

The wondrous attentions Tom had received already were enough to put him to the blush, and yet in his dreams...? Tom shook his head. Ambition was laudable, but his private dreams bordered on excess.

Tom's nocturnal reveries had been troubled - if Tom would use the word - with his memories of Sargent Queen and Mr. Shafter. The alchemy of sleep had transposed their simple iron bath into to Mr. Long's tiled Roman caldera, and given to Tom the vision of Mr. Long himself stretched among the bubbles. `Would I were worthy', Tom thought as he envisioned that powerful form reposing in the scented water and Tom himself privileged to stroke the soapy cloth over those broad manly shoulders. Even to place himself at those strong-arched feet and worship as an acolyte at the temple of Phallus. To return a thousand fold in depth and devotion the sweet kisses he had received the night before, and at last to fill the emptiness in his heart from the rich fountain of Mr. Long's kindness.

Could life hold such joy?

The very wildness of his hope made Tom all the more eager. He swore he would please Mrs. Quimm in every way, and do nothing which would lessen his standing in Mr. Long's eyes.

**************

Mrs. Quimm's office was a busy place. Various factors and shipping agents would came in, waving papers and bills of lading, and it was the task of the boy clerks to find the locations of the various cargoes. Then, as often as not, they would have to rush over to whichever warehouse held the goods and provide the proper papers for their timely release. It was tasking, but full of interest, and Tom felt he would soon learn much from his contacts.

The other boys were all good sorts, and not inclined to hold a fellows good fortune against him. As Tom proved both diligent and willing, he was soon a general favorite. Thus he was sharing his luncheon in their midst when Ms. Quimm came upon them.

"Tom? Long said you were educated. Can you play the piano?"

"Why yes, ma'am." Tom rose quickly to his feet and removed his hat, being in the presence of a lady. "I have had some lessons, although I make no great claim to art."

"Then for the rest of the day you're working out back, Professor."

"As you wish, Mrs. Quimm. But why?"

"Mr. D. Tweedle claims this shipment was damaged, and will not accept them. Mr. Dumm says they are all in tune. We need to test each piano before we offer any adjustments."

"Which test in this case means playing them?"

"You are a clever lad. Start at the left, and make a note of any broken keys. If you find none, mark the unit good to ship."

Tom pulled a bench up to the first instrument and sat down.

"Yes, ma'am."

`Well', Tom thought, `I swore to do any task which came to hand - but never did I think I would send up as the piano player in a warehouse.'

**********************

It was late afternoon when Captain Scupper entered the building. He had devised a matter of business, but his true intent was to meet with Tom Lance.

A glance of Tom about his work among the pianos gave him the opening for his conversation.

Captain Scupper smiled broadly at Mrs. Quimm.

"My dear Mrs. Quimm. Are you providing entertainment now as well as fine coffee?"

"The music? That's not entertainment, merely the new boy testing a shipments."

"New boy, you say?"

"Tom Lance. I hired him much as a favor for Mr. Long, so I had expected little of the boy, but he has pleased me with his diligence."

"I've been through a parcel of boys in my day. They all work hard when there's land is in sight. It's when they're awash that you test their sea legs."

"I grant that as a sailor you must know boys, but I've been happy with Tom to date. Indeed, I have been thinking of making him a full clerk."

"So young?"

Mrs. Quimm smiled at the Captain. "Was it not you who advised me to get them young and train them right?"

"Aye, to be sure. That is what I have always done. But it's hard to be certain with city boys. They can be steady one day and gone the next on some mad adventure. More trouble then profit to bend them to their work."

Remembering his conversation with Roland Vench, Captain Scupper determined that Tom would indeed be gone as soon as he might manage it - and the adventure would not be of Tom's choosing.

**********************

Captain Scupper kept in conversation with Mrs. Quimm until just closing time, then made his way back to the front office. Tom was there, writing out a report on the damaged pianos.

"Avast, boy. Tom is it?" Captain Scupper knew very well the name of the lad he addressed, but he spoke so that those witnessing might believe he did not - or at least that he did not much care.

"Yes sir, I am Tom Lance? How may I be of service?"

Captain Scupper reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope."I have a package to be delivered. I know it is late, but it must go out tonight."

"Why then, I must do it, sir."

"Good lad. Take this to the Good Ship Venus. It is moored at the Ellis Island dock. Here is a note as well. You must hand this to the Captain personally - to him and no other - and wait until he reads the letter. Then he will give you your instructions."

"Yes sir. I shall get my coat and be about it at once."

***************

For all his cheer, Tom was rather troubled. The growing shadows marked the lateness of the hour, and he did not see how he might discharge this duty and yet make it home - for he now thought of the Long mansion as home - before supper. He had no wish to be slack, but neither would he have troubled his kind host for all the world.

This is where fate stepped in.

As he headed out the door, Tom spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

"Dick. Dirty Dick!"

The street arab heard his name, and swiftly recognized it's source.

"Tom! How glad I am to see you! I saw your arrest, but could not get through the crowd to come to you."

"I must be glad of that, for I would not have seen you punished for my errors."

"I got your note that night but still worried for you. Although the man who came around to pay your debts and Percy's swore you were treated gently, I still wondered if.." Dick - having overcome the shock of seeing his friend - took in Tom's fine clothes. "My heavens, but you are looking fine. All that worry was a waste."

"I have indeed done well in the world. Mr. Long has been kind past expressing, and by his graces I have a post as messenger boy here at Mrs. Quimm's. That is the crux of my current trouble." Tom quickly told his friend about his two duties.

Stepping back into the shop, Tom quickly scribbled a few lines.

"If you would take a message around to Mr. Long's place, I would gladly pay..."

Dick tucked the note into his jacket.

"No need of your penny, Tom. I should gladly help a friend just for the pleasure of seeing your new digs. Besides - he gave Tom a saucy look - if the guv'ner is so kind a sort as you say, likely this note will be worth both a penny *and* a meal. I have heard those rich houses have *big* kitchens."

"That is true enough, and Cook is a kindly woman. Tell her I have recommended her peach pie as the finest on the earth, and you will do well with her."

"Peach pie?" Dick's interest grew. "Then this shall be a good work for the both of us."

***********************

It has long been known that the messengers reward is set not by his virtue but by the contents of his missive . Dick's explanation of why Tom would be late for supper was received in good humor, and thus to clear profit. Mr. Long gladly gave Dick a penny for the message, for he had begun to worry a bit about Tom, while Dick's emphasis on the word `supper' gained him an invitation to Cook's comfortable realm. There the convayal of Tom recommendation soon found Dick seated at his leisure before a full plate of sweet potatoes and ham, with a big slice of peach pie waiting for 'afters'.

Dick had indeed been happy for Tom - for he was at this heart a selfless boy - but now he began to think he had likewise done well for himself. While he was too bold a spirit to settle for an employer the way Tom had, he hereby resolved that any favors he could do for Harold Long he would do quickly, for it clearly paid to be in the man's good graces.

**********************

In the mean time Tom had made his way to the Docks.

The Venus was a sail-rigged steamer, and not the most impressive of her class. While doubtless seaworthy, she lacked the paint and polished shine of the fine boats of the White Star Line which bobbed beside her. None the less, Tom felt no trepidation as he hailed the boat.

"Excuse me, sir!," he called to a sailor at the top of the ramp. "I have a message for Captain Bollock, which I was directed to deliver in person."

The seaman vanished, and after a moment returned.

"The Captain says he'll see you, but you'd best hurry . We leave with the tide, and that will not wait for any city boy."

Tom was glad he had not dallied about the city. It would have been crushing to arrive only to find the Venus departed.

"Captain Bollock? I have a package from Captain Scupper."

"Aye, I know the man. Put it there."

Tom put down the package.

"Captain Scupper also gave me a letter, which I was directed to hand to you alone, and to remain while you read it."

"Ye were, were ye?"

"If you would not object, sir."

"Very well. Dock yerself over there."

Captain Bollock read the letter with some attention. Upon finishing he strode to the door and had a word with a sailor. That sailor summoned another, and soon the whole ship was at work.

Tom waited patiently, thinking the Captain might like to send a return missive. Such a second errand might extend his delay, but the `tip' brought would pad out his pockets until the Friday pay envelope should fill them entirely. Besides, Tom considered, if he must miss his meal he should at least with to impress Mr. Long with a tale of diligence.

It was a good twenty minutes before the Captain turned his attention back to Tom.

"Sae." The old sailor looked Tom over carefully. " Ye are ta be my new Cabin Boy."

Tom was shocked.

"No sir!"

"Captain Scupper in his letter says ye wish to go to sea, and sae he has apprenticed ya to me in release of a debt I owe him."

"Captain, sir, that can not be! I do not even know Captain Scupper! Certainly I have asked him no favors! I have a post - and I have no wish to change it."

"Whist, ye are too late now. We ha' gone with the tide, and I will turn back for nae man."

Tom rushed to the window only to see for himself the evil truth. They were well at sea, and he spotted no glimmer of land.

"Please, sir, I must insist. There has been a grave error."

The Captain turned to one of his sailors.

"Get him below. He's our crew now."

Chapter Fifteen: A Sea Change

We must leave our hero as he is hustled unceremoniously into the lower hold of the ship, and remain a while in the Captains cabin, for there the next incident of the story is to unfold.

*******************

A pretty young boy of perhaps fourteen rushed into the cabin. Green eyes sparked with fury, reflecting the temper promised by his bright red curls.

"By the ald sod, Captain, say it isna true. He canna be your Cabin Boy - that were ta be my job!"

"I nay deny I promised ye the post, Paddy. But I owe Scupper a muckle great debt, and sae he has a hold over me. If he wants this Tom ta have the post, I think I must grant it."

"Please, Captain." The boy named Patrick dropped to his knees. "You could be lettin' this Tom train with Mr. Pegger, the first mate."

"Whist! And why should I do that, when Scupper wrote *specifically* that he wanted Tom in me cabin?"

The boy leaned forward, reaching for the flap of Captain Bollock's trousers.

"Sod old Scupper. This Tommy-boyo canna be as good to you as I can."

"How can ye know? I havena tried him yet."

"Those office boys have flabby asses. O'ds balls, you'd bounce on it like a seal bladder."

"Maybe I'd keep meself to the other end?"

Smiling, the boy undid the trouser buttons and pulled out the Captain's rapidly growing shaft.

"And sure and ye'd be the worse for it." Paddy said, running this tongue slowly over his lips. "No skinny Yankee boy ever had a mouth for anything but cussing."

"Ye do have a persuasive tongue on you, that I will grant."

"Post this Tom elsewhere, and it shall be a persuasive tongue on you."

So saying, Paddy leaned forward and took the captains manhood balls-deep into his youthful throat.

For the next few minutes there was no conversation worth transcription, although in veracity one could not describe the proceedings as silent. Only when the transaction was completed, and Captain Bollock once again sat in his chair, could he catch enough breath to proclaim.

"Very well, laddy. Ye have moved me. Off with you, and tell Pegger the boy is his."

************************

Such an instruction being much to his liking, Paddy set about conveying the new order of things with ardent haste. Within minutes he had found Tom Lance seated in the lower hold unhappily contemplating the sudden turn of events.

The Irish lad could not help strutting a bit as he compared his own happiness with Tom's dejected features.

"So you are Tom Lance."

"I am." Tom rose politely, holding out his hand.

"And you are?"

"Patrick Mary O'Shaggemal. Paddy to this crew. Captain Bollock is sayin' I'm ta stay his cabin boy, and you are to serve under Mr. Pegger, the first mate."

Tom accepted the intelligence calmly.

"I would be content with that post as any other - were I desirous of a life at sea - but I have friends and obligations back in new York."

"By our Lady, that's naught to me if ye desire the moon. Yer on the Venus now. Get along to the first mates Cabin."

********************

Tom followed the boy Patrick through the narrow passageways to the indicated cabin. There a sandy haired man of middle years worked attentively at a set of navigation maps. At Tom's entrance he looked up.

Mr. Pegger - for it was that official who addressed our hero - looked Tom over with a through and grudging eye.

"So you are the Tom boy?"

"Yes sir. Tom Lance."

Tom held out his hand, which was ignored.

"Take off your shirt."

"Sir?" Tom asked.

"Take of your shirt, and your undershirt if you have one. I must know if you are strong enough for the work."

Uncertain, but now wishing to appear disobliging without reason, Tom did so.

Mr. Pegger grasped Tom's upper arm and gave the muscle a firm squeeze. Then he ran his hand down over Tom's shoulders and chest.

"Yes, you might do well enough. Now take off your pants."

"Sir?"

"I must see your legs."

Tom was hesitant, but the explanation did have it's congruity, so again he complied. The sea air was rather cold, and he shivered a bit as he posed for Mr. Pegger's close inspection.

Mr. Pegger ran a hand over the muscle on Tom's thigh, then up the back to his waist.

"Yes, you look like you might climb."

"Thank you, sir."

Pegger sat down, and Tom to advantage of the moment to scramble back into his garments.

"Tom Lance?" The seaman gave Tom another close look. "I knew a Mike Lance. Shipped with him back on the Saucy Sue under Captain Robert Hardstaff."

"My father, sir!" Tom's eyes it up, for he had known few people with an acquaintance to his family. "William Lance was my father. Or rather." Here Tom hesitated, for he did not with to lie, but neither did he wish to expose his mother's memory to reproach. "I should perhaps say I thought he was my father."

Having thus begun,Tom told Mr. Pegger the whole story of his adventures. Of his mothers death, Tom's travels and travails, and at last how he had come to happiness only to be shanghaied away from his newfound home.

At the finish, Mr. Pegger smiled.

"I knew Mary Lance well, and she was an honest woman who would not have done anything to your disservice, and I have faith she raised an honest son. If you put yourself to work with a will, I shall ask Captain Bollock to set you off in Boston, which is our next port ."

"Thank you, sir."

This arrangement suited Tom - being the best he could imagine getting - and he said as much.

***********************

Tom spent the rest of the `watch' moving cargo along with the more experienced sailors. He worked with a will, wishing to please Mr. Pegger in any way possible, and was surprised when - at the small sound of a tin whistle - the other men suddenly dropped their work.

"Should we not finish this?" he asked the nearest sailor.

"Leave it for the next man. That whistle means the watch is over and it's time for grub."

"Beans and bacon, like as not." another sailor added.

"Aye," growled a third in a thick Highland accent. "And after that it's time to sleep. Where's yer hammock?"

"Hammock?" Tom asked.

"Did ye not bring yer kit with ye?"

"Kit?"

"Not bloody likely," the first man said. "I saw Tom here come aboard. He was carrying a paper parcel, and nothing more."

"I am sorry for it, sirs, but I did not know at the time that I should remain, so I had no occasion to pack for the journey,"

The Scotsman grinned. "Ach, I'll helps ye find a place to pass the night."

The first sailor laugh at that. "You'd offer him your bunk, no doubt. With you in it?"

"A better doss then yours. From ye tha lad would pick up fleas or worse."

"You'd call me lousey? You've got crabs in more than your disposition."

Tom held up his hands.

"That is very kind of you, but.."

"The lad is bunking with me." Mr. Pegger's low baritone echoed over the deck. "Any debate?"

"Nay, nay," the Scotsman shook his head. "Yer the boss and naught ta quarrel with. But if ye tire of him..."

"He'll still be too good for a mad Scots bugger like you."

*************

Tom followed Mr. Pegger obediently back to the first mates cabin.

"Thank you, sir. I'm afraid I know little about shipboard life, and am woefully unprepared. If there is any way I can thank you for your aid, I would gladly, for a feel a bit...'all to sea'.. as it were. "

Mr. Pegger poured himself a deep glass of rum, and after a moment set out another for Tom. After a few swallows, Pegger replied.

"Tom, life at sea is a hard life. A man often gets lonely."

"Yes, sir. I am often lonely too."

"A handsome lad like you should have friends wherever you go. Hell, half the sailors on this ship want to bunk with you."

"That is kind of them, sir, but they could never ease my heart."

"Are you that sad to be on the Venus?"

"It does not matter sometimes where you are so much as where you are not. Already I miss New York. I miss little Percy, who I have come to love as a brother , but most of all I miss Mr. Long."

"Mr. Long, eh? Would that be Harry Long?"

"Mr. Harold R. Long, sir, of New York. Do you know him?"

"I know of him. He used to be deeply into the merchant marine, back a few years. I think he pulled out when his partner, Captain Hardstaff, died." Mr. Pegger finished his rum and poured another glass. "So, this Long? He's the man who pulled you out of the clink?"

Tom took another small sip of the burning liquid.

"That he did, and a thousand other favors I could not enumerate. He is so kind and good to me, and I fear I shall never become a man he could admire."

"Is it his admiration you seek?"

Tom looked up, startled. "I would avoid his contempt," he answered carefully.

Pegger chuckled. "Clever answer, but that is not what I asked. When you close your eyes at night, what do you see?"

"I have - dreamed of his company, his conversation."

"And what does he feel?"

"He has - I believe - a liking for my company. He spoke to me most kindly."

"Only talk, did you?"

Tom dropped his head. " He kissed me. Twice. It was perhaps only from compassion, although I think I may hope..."

"So he's not ridden you yet?"

"Sir?" Tom looked up. "I do not understand?"

"Boffed you? Bent you over? Plugged your bung?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I do not know those words."

"Christless city boys! Has he shoved his cock up yer bloody asshole? That's what I'm asking!"

Tom blushed scarlet and nearly dropped his glass.

"No sir! Mr. Long is a gentleman! I could never presume so on his affection. He has already been so very kind that I would not dare to even advance such a suggestion!"

Mr. Pegger snorted and drained his glass, then took Tom's and finished it as well.

"Virgin, are you?"

"Of course, sir. I am a good boy!"

"But you want it. I can see that from your face."

Tom drew himself up to his full height.

"Never, sir!"

"Not even when you were getting those compassionate kisses?"

"I am a good boy!"

"Lying is a sin, you know."

"I don't know." Tom stammered, then blushed even deeper. "Not about the lying, sir - I know it is sinful to lie - but about the other."

"You don't know if you like being kissed?" Pegger stepped forward until he was but inches from Tom. "Let me give you a taste."

Tom stepped back.

"Please, sir. No! I do not want.."

Mr. Pegger laughed again.

"So you'd gladly give it up for Harry Long, but not for me."

Tom hesitated. "I think so, sir."

"Even if you don't know whether he'll give it to you or not?"

Tom sat back on the bunk and buried his head in his hands.

"I know he is too good for me. We can not help who we love, sir."

Pegger sighed. "Well, then, so be it. I shall not take you, for your virginity should keep as a gift for the man you love. But you must not tell anyone that I have not had you. There are several others who are not so gentle-hearted, and if they thought you were free you would not be free of them long."

Tom raised his eyes.

"Thank you sir. While I do not know if I should ever win Mr. Longs affection, If that day came I would hope that I might come to him unspotted."

Mr. Pegger pulled off his blouse.

"Spare me the romance! I would wager you've never even had a blow job."

"I believe I have seen one, sir," Tom answered slowly.

"Hand job?"

"Oh, yes, sir. That I have done - once."

"Let me guess. Harry Long? Christ's balls, you city boys are backwards. Well, get yourself onto the bunk."

"Sir?"

"Get naked, get your back on the bunk, and spread your legs. I'll not bugger you, for I've no wish to make enemies, but your fancy Mr. Long will thank me for what I'll teach you tonight."

"You will not kiss me, sir. Please, I do not want that!"

"No, you can keep your lips pure as well."

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Pegger pulled off his pants and tumbled into the lower half of the bunk, shoving Tom down beneath him. With a quick pull he had Tom's trousers tossed away.

Tom shivered as the seaman gathered Tom's boyhood into his salt-calloused hand.

"I can content myself with a taste of this."

Chapter Sixteen: Bound for Disaster

Carefully holding on to the brass railing, Tom made his way from the galley to the aft hatch. His legs were still a bit unsteady, although if the transient aches were from the action of the waves or the waves of pleasure he had encountered last night, Tom was not at all certain.

True to his word, Mr. Pegger had made no demand for Tom's indecent submission - but what he had done was shocking enough. Almost past believing! Ton had lain immobile in shock as the elder man had consumed him, swallowing entirely both flesh and passion until Tom was drawn to a moaning bliss hitherto uncomprehended.

Inspired by the brief glimpse of Mr. Shafter and Sargent Queen, Tom had passingly dreamed of such forbidden mysteries, but the reality had shaken him at the core. The touch of Mr. Pegger's lips had brought Tom howling into the pillow, and when at length he lost hold of his seed Tom truly believed that his heart might give way from the nervous palpations. Then, in the morning, when Mr. Pegger had persuaded Tom to repeat the experiment, it was all Tom could do to keep his hands from burying themselves in the other mans sandy locks and pulling him throat-deep over the aching flesh.

Part of Tom worried that he had fallen into immodesty, but another part - the deeper - wondered if Mr. Long might be pleased should Tom offer to expend a similar effort on that noble gentleman's behalf. Tom considered that happy prospect. To kneel before his hero. To open his lips to that cherished staff. To taste the passion warmed skin and drink the salted honey of his manly vigor. That was a vision that warmed Tom's heart.

In it heels came a fiercer vision. One that made Tom shiver within. If the gift of his lips could give such bliss, what would come if he offered Mr. Long the even dearer service that Pegger had mentioned. Despite the crudeness of the words, the image they had summoned had the softest and most seductive of allures. To lay himself out as an offering before his idol. To proffer up every part of himself for his beloved's pleasure. To be transfixed by his adored ones passion. Mesmerized by the prospect,Tom clutched at the railing all the harder. The thought of serving as sheath for all that masculine power nearly stopped his breath.

A call from within the hold interrupted Tom's reverie.

"You boy!"

"Yes?"

"Get down here and help me with this cargo."

Tom swung open the hatch.

"Coming, sir."

"Not yet you ain't."

That was the last word Tom heard as a pain across his head sent his world into darkness.

********************

The next sensation was a vicious slap that drew Tom back to wakefulness.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Tom looked up to find a huge sea man standing over him. Black-bearded and swarthy, the man was looking at Tim with a most foreboding expression.

"Sir? Was there an accident?"

Tom tried to get up, but found his limbs hampered by thick ropes. Indeed, both arms and legs were stretched taunt, and Tom's torso suspended between resting chest-down over a large barrel. His shirt and trousers had evidently vanished during his oblivion, for Tom could feel the rough staves of the barrel splintering against his belly as he writhed against his bondage.

"Why am I here?"

The dark-haired sailor grinned broadly at Tom's fruitless struggles.

"You're here because I put you here. Don't try to pull free. I've twenty years before the mast, and I'm a dab hand at knots."

"Please, sir. Whatever have I done to offend you?"

"You boy? You've done naught! But your father? He's another matter. The bastard screwed me good, and I'm a man to return favor."

Tom held his head up as best he could.

"I will believe no ill of Mr. Lance."

"Lance?" The man laughed bitterly. "Aye, kiddo. Lance was a fine mate. I'd sooner cut of my own hand then harm his kit. But he's no more your pa than I am."

Tom gasped. "How could you know?"

"I knew Mike like my own brother. He was a fine, sturdy Bohemian like me. There is no way his whelp would be a thach-top like you."

"Then who is my father?"

The rough sailor slapped Tom painfully across the face, driving him painfully against the splintering wood.

"Yer Robert Hardstaff's get, damn the bastard's eyes. The very spirit and image of that sodding blue-blood. Bastard cashiered me off the Saucy Sue, and damn hear broke my arm, just for taking a rough toss with a riggings monkey. Said he'd get *my* ass if he ever saw me again. Jokes on him. He died soon as we reached port, so he never got mine. But his brat lived, so it seems, and now I'm set to get you."

So saying, he clamped Tom's back cheeks in steel-hard fingers and spread them roughly.

"Please, sir. I beg you, do not do this! I swear, I know nothing of Robert Hardstaff, of indeed of any such matters."

"Enough of that caterwauling!"

So saying, the man stuffed a oily rag - doubtless a relic of the engine room - between Tom's lips, tying it tightly with another rope. Try though he might, no cry or plea would pass that woven barrier.

Reveling in his prisoner's helplessness, the cruel sailor unbuttoned his white duck pants to reveal his manly organ under Tom's horrified eyes. It was purple-dark, swelling even as Tom watched with enraged blood, and from the round head oozed a drop of grayish and unappetizing fluid.

"More then ye thought, is it not? Pity I had to gag you, or I'd give you a taste first. But as it is, you'll just have to take it dry."

Another hard swat, this time to Tom's rump, punctuated that remark.

"To bad I could not have managed this yesterday. The only thing sweeter then tossing Hardstaff's brat would be to rip up a cherry. Knowing Pegger, he probably drilled you wider than the London Tube last night."

Ignoring Tom's wiggles and muted protests, the sailor set his shaft against Tom's untried passage. He was just about to drive forward when a bright light shown sown, spotlighting the wicked tableau.

"Damn your eyes, Rogers, what are you up to."

Tom gave a mental sigh of relief. The voice was that of Mr. Pudd, the boatswain. Certainly now he would be saved!

"Disciplining a new hand, sir."

The second sailor clambered down into the hatch, keeping his light on Tom and the man named Rogers.

"Hang back! If the boys to get a flogging, that's the boatswains task."

Rogers gave a low chuckle and held his ground.

"I had in mind flogging something, right enough. Just didn't think to bring a whip."

"That sort of discipline, eh?" The light steadied, and Tom could hear the passage of footsteps behind him. "Then you can have him when I'm done, and be grateful I'm giving you that."

"No bloody way I'm going second."

"Bloody is the way you will go, if you do not heed me."

There was a moments silence, but at the end Rogers gave way. The painful grip lifted, and the fearsome organ which had so closely promised his impalement was withdrawn.

"Have it your way. You might juice him up a bit, but if you don't rip him bad he'll still be tight enough for the both of us."

"Now that, seaman, is a ship-shape answer. You hold him firm and I promise to take it slow."

At that a second set of hands took possession of Tom's bruised flesh. He had nearly relinquished all hope of salvation when the hatch flew open for the second time.

It was Captain Bollock.

"Rogers! Mr. Pudd! What is going on here?"

******************

Standing at attention in the Captain's cabin, Rogers cast a fierce look at Tom,then a sheepish one at his Captain.

"The boy lured me down there, sir, an he wanted... that is to say he offered..."

The Captain glared at Rogers, then at Mr. Pudd.

"To both of you?"

Pudd looked sideways. "Uh, sir. Not quite, sir. Umm, I came along a bit later, you see sir, and..."

"AND you just decided to share?" Captain Bollock slammed shut the log book in which he had been entering the incident. "Ach, the devil with it! And the two of ye alongside it! The boy can work?"

Tom stepped forward.

"Yes, Captain, but..."

Captain Bollock cut Tom off.

"Hush up! Speak when your spoken to!"

The Captain rubbed his chin, looking slowly from Tom to Rogers to Pudd, then back to Tom again. Finally, he motioned forward two other sailors who had been posted nearby.

"I can not have fighting among the men. Lock the boy in the brig, and I will deal with him once we have left Boston."

Chapter Seventeen: Escape!

Tom was crushed.

He lay on the filthy straw mattress the filled the larger part of his tiny cell, wishing he had faith enough to pray for his own demise.

Captain Bollock would hear no plea, and soon the Venus would depart for Spain with Tom aboard. Once headed to sea, it would be weeks before they gained land again. Months before Tom - even with the best of fortune - could have any hope of making his way back to New York.

Not - Tom thought bitterly - that fortune deemed over pleased with him these days.

From any aspect, his future looked bleak.

It seemed unlikely that Rogers would abandon his vengeance at this late date. While Tom had little belief that this Hardstaff was his parent, Rogers was clearly set in his conviction. From the glares the dark man had sent Tom, Captain's Bollock's intervention had only hardened the mans wrath, and if they were both set free Tom did not think it would be overlong before he again found himself an unwilling guest in one of the darker holds.

What was worse, now Rogers was not the only danger. Even if that man could be deterred, the looks in the other sailors eyes as Tom was marched - naked and bruised - across the deck and into the Captains cabin left him with little doubt that some other would gladly pick up the cause of Tom's impalement.

Not to mention Mr. Pegger's displeasure, which was sure to be taken out on his ass by one means or another. Pegger had warned Tom against the desires of the other sailors, and to the degree that he believed Tom to have incited the incident he would be the more insistent on possessing the debated pleasure before some other claimant could take his place.

The question now appeared less a matter of *if* he should be so taken then by whom, and when, and how often.

Tom huddled tighter into himself.

That which had seemed a pleasure when viewed in the prospect of his beloved Mr. Long now appeared a torment - and the prospect of his coming misuse at the hands of the Venus's crew more then his spirit could endure.

Truly death would be the kinder fate, if only because it would remove the last foolish hope that somehow - even now - Tom could find his way back to his longed-for Harold Long and again be received into the security and sanctity of that man's all-curing embrace.

*************

Tom was lying so, halfway between painful waking and troubled sleep, when the brig door cracked open and a slim form slipped inside.

"Please, do not..."

"Hush ye, Tom."

It was Patrick O'Shaggemal, the cabin boy who had so opposed Tom on his arrival.

"What are you here for?"

Paddy held out a shirt and trousers. Unfamiliar to Tom, they were doubtless some of Paddy's things, and by no means his best.

Tom stood quickly and began to dress, discounting the discomforts of the rude garments in his gratitude at being covered at all.

"I've come to let you out," the Irish boy said, shaking his ring of keys for emphasis.

"The Captain has softened?"

Patty gave a chuckle. "Sure an' he's soft for now."

"Then he shall hear me out?"

"He's nay soft like that, me boyo," Paddy answered with a grin. "But he's sleeping in his cabin just now, and so I've come to let you to land. But you must give me your solemn promise ne'er to be coming back."

Tom was surprised. He knew discipline was fierce at sea, yet the boy who had hitherto been anything but his friend was now risking much to help him to freedom.

"Why would you help me?"

"I'm happy with my post here, and I'd not have a rival. Moreover, the fight over you will be makin' me Captain unhappy. So its best ye go now."

Paddy reached into his own blouse and pulled out a small packet wrapped tight in oilskin.

"Here. This is the letter that ole' Scupper sent along to the Captain. It will explain you absence so you will not be punished, and with luck even put a spanner in that buggers works."

Tom tucked the package into his pants and buttoned it own securely.

"Will not the captain be displeased with you once he finds me gone?"

Paddy took Tom by the hand and half-pulled him down the dark passageway.

"Oh, bollocks to Bollock! He'll sure and be taken' a paddle to me backside - but then, he does that anyway, and I find I rather like it."

Within a few moments they were standing on the near deck of the craft.

Tom looked about. The water was still black, although the first light of dawn pinked the far horizon, and the quiet of the nearby boats showed that more then the Venus's crew were yet bunked down for the night. If there was any time to escape unmolested, this was it.

"Planks up, I do hope you can swim."

"Yes," Tom answered. "My mother was insistent I should learn, and I have never been more grateful for her will than I am this day."

Paddy pointed to a dimly lit structure perhaps two hundred yards off.

"Head straight for the lights. There should be a ladder at the end of the dock."

Tom swung his leg over the railing.

"Hold up!" Paddy reached again into his blouse, this time pulling out a small leather purse from which he produced a few copper coins.

"Here." He handed the pennies to Tom. "Its nay much, but it should be buying you breakfast. Yer never my friend, but I'd not wish walking hungry on a dog."

"Thank you," Tom replied sincerely. "You are doing me a kindness, and if I can ever repay I shall do so."

"Just be getting back to yer own man, and leave me to mine."

********************************

The water was both cold and rough, but Tom was strong and so the passage to the dock was swiftly accomplished. The ladder was found where Paddy had said it to be, and from there it was just a matter of finding a sheltered place to dry while he made what plans he could for his own deliverance.

As he huddled behind a stack of crates, Tom considered his few options and reached a conclusion. He must by now be known missing. He might or might not be being sought. If found by the sailors, he could not again hope to escape their punishment. The docks were therefore a danger to be fled.

He did not know Boston, but Tom decided he must make his way to the railroad. That was known terrain. From there he could by some means achieve his return to New York.

While he could not be certain of his welcome, some of the things that Rogers has said had found strange echo's in Tom's memory. Robert Hardstaff was, he firmly believed, the name of Mr. Long's deceased partner, who was likewise the first husband of Mr. Long's departed wife. Mr. Long had mentioned that she had born a son likewise to her first husband, and somehow lost her boy child upon Mr. Hardstaff's death. Tom would not presume to put himself forward as their vanished child. Still, Roger's unexpected testimony as to it's survival - combined with the strange and unreasoned actions of Captain Scupper - added to the misstated kidnapping of young Percy - had sorted themselves in Tom's mind unto a most disquieting pattern.

Patting his precious packet of letters, Tom set out walking. His every thought was focused on Mr. Long - and on the revelation he had just received.

Chapter Eighteen: Riding the Rail

Note: For those who are not history buffs, `riding the rail' was a particularly nasty ( and sexy) punishment.

*******

Boston was not a large town - at least not in comparison to the vast metropolis of New York, and Tom soon enough found his way to the main train station. There he vanished into a tribe of ragged boys, content that no observer would perceive him in the midst of so many similar urchins.

There was a Western Union station, and Tom considered that he might send a telegram to Mr. Long, but his few cents now in hand could not cover such a transmission. Beyond that, it seemed rather presumptuous to demand more when - to all worldly appearances - Tom might be considered to have abandoned the capacious kindnesses already offered. Far better, Tom decided, to make his way for himself - at least until he could present himself in a less abject manner.

Tom spent the morning 'smashing' bags as Dick had taught him. This time, however, his ragged appearance was against him, and he gained only the roughest and least profitable trade. Further, the Sunday traffic was far lighter then the weekday trade, and those who traveled more likely to be met by carriages then was the case in workday New York. Still Tom persevered, knowing that he must earn at least his lunch, if not a way back to New York and his beloved Mr. Long. For - informed by Mr. Pegger's wise words - he know knew the depth of his devotion to the handsome older man, and Paddy's instructions had only reconfirmed them in his heart.

He still could not imagine how he could hope to be worthy of a return of that affection, but offer it he must, and hope that in some aspect he could render himself pleasing.

So concluding, Tom set to work with a will, and only when there was a `break' did he purchase a roll and sit down to count his profits. They were far scant of a rail passage, but nearly enough for a telegram, and Tom was deep into consideration on the best wording of such a missive - should he chose to send one - when his reverie was most rudely interrupted.

"Hey! New boy! Where's my penny?"

Tom looked up to observe another boy in the flashy checked coat of a 'growler'.

"I do not know you," Tom replied calmly, "and I think it unlikely I owe you anything, as this is my first day in this town."

"Exactly!" the young `tough' answered. "Yer smashing bags at my station, and so you owes me."

Tom rose.

"You do not strike me as an authority of the railroad. I shall pay the station master, if that is the custom, but I shall never be compelled by bully-boys."

The flash boy swung first, but Tom's many labors had made him strong, and so he soon gave a good accounting of himself.

"Ho! Boys!" A loud shout same up from near the station. It was the railroad 'dick', come to check out the rumpus. Being over-well known by sight - and not at all well regarded - the bully boys retired in some disarray.

Tom, being strange to the area, was left standing alone in the yard.

"You boy!" the heavy-set man shouted at Tom. "What mischief are you up to?"

"Just earing my lunch , sir."

"Well, get about. This is no restaurant."

So directed, Tom picked up the last of his roll and began to walk.

"That was righteous!" A melodious voice heralded him from the shrubbery. "A smiting of the heathens worthy of a modern Samson."

"What?"

Tom looked around.

"Back here!"

A branch parted to reveal a snug little hide-away.

"A humble place, as the poet says, but mine own. And as such a place of rest to the wayfarer."

Tom stepped through to find another boy, ragged but cheerful. His tight black curls - darker then even Percy's - were cropped close against his skull, and his white smile lit up a face swarthier than any Tom had seen before in his life.

"Hello there , I'm Tom Lance. I'm a bit of a stranger here, and I fear I may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

"Beauregard Crispus Washington." the boy answered, holding out one grubby hand in return."Of the Mississippi Washingtons, and not of the Yankee sort. Railroad speculator and financier. You may call me Beau."

"Tom."

They shook formally.

"Forgive me for asking, but with such an impressive title, I must wonder why you are concealed here."

"As the result of my speculating that - were those bully boys to catch a sight of me - I should have even less finances than I had before."

"So it would seem. There were certainly most ardent of acquiring mine."

"You shall be safe here. They are all city boys, and their dim brains are incapable of perceiving an alcove among so much foliage."

"Then I must thank you again. Would you care for some bread?" Tom asked, seeing the other boy looked even more ragged then himself.

"With deepest gratitude. In exchange, I'll give you a sip of my beer. It's a bit flat, but still honest."

"Thank you, it has been a warming few minutes." Tom did not normally indulge in beer, but he was hungry, and a small sip would do no harm.

So the boys sat in companionable silence until both food and drink were depleted. It was Beau who - at length - resumed the conversation.

"This is a bad spot for smashing bags."

"So I have learned,"Tom agreed easily,"but I have no choice. I must return to New York, and I have no other skill to earn my passage." So started, Tom told the other boy the general events of his passage by sea.

"New York City?" Beau spoke the name in a tone of serious consideration. "I think I could get you there. It is not my best destination, for the bulls are rough, but... if you are utterly convinced that is where you must go?"

"I must," Tom answered.

Beau stood and tightened the rope that held his pants against his slim waist. On it he hooked a battered canteen which he had filled from the garden tap.

"Then I shall guide you. I am as fit as any and better then most. If you've a penny or two I would advise you to buy bread for the trip. If not, we must go without. I fear my days wealth has already been expended for the beer."

Tom displayed the small horde of coins gained by his morning labors. "Will this suffice?"

"It is better than naught, which is what I had thought we must venture on."

Tom peered carefully over the top branches.

"The yard looks clear. If there is a cook shop out back, I shall purchase two sandwiches and return as swiftly as I may."

Beau nodded. "There is one to the north, just past the Reading Railroad office, and before the B & O. Be sure to tell Aunt Jemimia who sent you. She has a soft spot for me, and will make them richer."

"Then we shall head for New York?"

"On my word as a gentleman, we leave on the next outbound train."

So agreed, the two boys set about their tasks with good spirits.

*********

When Tom returned, Beau led him around the water tower to a quiet section of track a fair distance from the station.

"This should do."

Tom looked the site over, confused.

"There are no shipping housed or depots here. How are we going to earn our passage to New York?"

"Earn it?" The other boy laughed "As man earns all things, by our wits and our limbs. we shall requisition a freight car."

"I am not certain it is right to defraud the rail company."

"Have it your way. Perhaps you would prefer a first class cabin - Mr. Vanderbilt. Or maybe you fancy New York friends will pay your tab?"

That was true, Tom thought. When he got to New York he could ask Mr. Long to refund the value of a ticket to Mr. Huntington or Mr. Getty, both of whom who he knew to be acquainted with Mr. Long through business. Therefore, while Tom must accept himself as a borrower, he could acquit himself of being a thief.

Thus self-reassured, he followed his new companion with a will.

Slipping between the box cars like a wraith, Beau scanned the offered carriages with a expert eye.

"Not there, Tom," he said as Tom moved to step forward. " We shall want a straight passage."

This guided, they passed several more cars before Beau found one to his liking.

"There." Tom's guide pointed to a slat -doored box-car near the middle. "That one. The one between car seven and car eleven. Those are fortunate numbers, and a sign of our easy passage."

"You know by the numbers? How?"

"It is a matter of advanced mathematical education. Four, eleven, and forty four are lucky numbers, so it stand to reason that any car between two cars so numbered must be fortunate. Besides which, this is Sunday, which is an auspicious day on it's own."

Tom shook his head in wonder. "I wish I had not had to leave school, for I fear I have never heard of such things."

Beau patted Tom's hand sympathetically.

"Not everyone is set by nature for the finer branches of learning. I am sure you shall still do well for yourself."

The experienced lad drew Tom's attention to several `tramp marks' scrawled over the wheel.

"In addition, from the chalk on the side I can see it is destined expeditiously for New York City, and since it carries light mixed cargo there should be room for us along the side."

Beau risked a peek into the open door.

"Yes. It is much as I expected. That should prove a most comfortable accommodation. Now we need only repose ourselves till the bull passes."

They waited in the shrubbery until the stated authority had indeed passed by, his heavy black baton swinging loosely in his grip. Watchful until the man was well out of sight behind a curve in the track, once the passage was clear beau whispered, "Now Tom. Come on!"

A quick sprint and a leap had them secured unseen in the car.

"Here, Tom." Beau indicated a melange of boxes and crates piled loosely in the front of the car. "If you would assist me in the redistribution of these articles, I do believe we shall assure ourselves a secure and saludable sanctuary in which to continue our expedition."

It took some labor, but soon the had a spot cleared to one corner, where they settled to rest.

Beau kept silent until he could hear the creak of the wheels starting.

"We are secure for the nonce, Tom. The Pinkertons never appear on a rolling train, and so we may safely enjoy our luncheons."

**************

After they had refreshed themselves, Beauregard Washington again took up the conversation.

"So. You have not told me how you came to be on that ship in the first place. I know you were tricked by this Scupper, but how did you meet with him?"

"Would you believe I was playing the piano in a warehouse?"

Beau laughed, his rich voice filling the boxcar. "Fortunate child of God. I have long dreamed of such a post."

Tom sat up straighter, surprised at so strong a response.

"Truly? I did not think there was so much demand?"

"Why yes! My own father had such a post, before he made an unfortunately speculative investment in rum, which much of is the reason for my presence here today"

"Interesting. How did a musician come to speculating in rum?"

"He speculated that it was fit to drink. Which is unfortunate, as it was pure wood shavings." Beau shook his head sadly. "It would have have knocked him blind, and he not had the good fortune to die from it first."

"I am so sorry for your loss. I had no idea.."

"That was in his later years, when he was fairly past his playing. Still, I did always consider it an employment to be desired."

Tom smiled. "You may have my post, if you so wish it - for I do not think I could arouse myself return to Mrs. Quimm."

"Mrs. Quimm, you say? A most inviting name."

"She is a kindly widow woman, and I think - if we could find you a better suit - she would be willing to take in another boy. Especially one as fair-spoken as yourself."

"My attraction to the post is growing as we speak."

"Then you shall have it from her, if it lies with my powers of persuasion, for I do not dismiss the favor you are doing me today."

"And I shall thank you kindly for that thought."

Beau lay back, making a nest among the old straw of the car floor, and indicated to Tom that he should do likewise. Tom was well tired from his sleepless night and his mornings labor, and so he set to snoring with a will.

Thus we leave the two to a temporary peace.

*******

Tom was aroused by a hissing in his ear.

"Wake up, Tom. Stop snoring!"

"Are we in New York?"

"No! Hush! Beau whispered. "We have visitors."

Tom looked through a crack in the boxes to find two older tramps sitting in the hay in the center of the car.

They were rough looking men, randomly clad in dirty clothes, as though they had dressed themselves from someone else's clothesline. Which, Tom considered, was more likely then not to be the truth of matters. As Tom watched they passed a bottle back and forth between them. Every so often one would belch and then the other would laugh uproariously.

Beau urged Tom back into the corner.

"We are best if they don't find us here, for I fear them as much as the dicks."

Tom and Beau were silent, and so easily able to hear the conversation - if one charitably inclined were to call it that - the proceeded from the center of their chamber.

"Give `or." One of the men said, followed by the sound of a muffled slap.

"Soon enough."

"I ain't that drunk."

"Then have some more. I think there's a sip left."

Tom could not resist a careful peek between two cartons. The blonder of the two men was face-down in the dirty straw, while the darker knelt - naked as he was born -close behind.

"Ok, but be careful with it. Last time ye damn near ripped me a new one."

"Ye wont hardly know I'm in there."

"So yer women all say."

"Yer my woman now, so shut yer moth and open yer ass."

So gently persuaded, the second man pulled off his pants and flopped onto his belly. Content with that, the first pulled out his masculine organ and - making no further bother - thrust it fiercely into his companions ass.

"Ouch! Use some spit!"

"Why. It's in you, ain't it?"

"Sod you, you bugger."

"Nay, I'm sodding you.

Tom watched in mixed terror and excitement as the one man thrust hard into the other, bringing forth cries that were neither quite pleasure nor quite pain.

"Ah, deeper, damn you."

"Move up to yer knees if you want more."

"Shit, yer a hard one."

"Do you no good otherwise. Take it and stop your bellyaching."

"Give me yer hand."

"Jerk yerself. I'm too drunk to balance one-handed, and you're so loose I'll either fall in or fall out."

It was a matter of seconds before both men were spent. The one on top rolled to his side, and was soon snoring with drunken unsteadiness, while the one below simply closed his eyes where he lay.

Beau smiled. "Has you bothered, does it?"

Tom blushed, glancing down at the proof if his distraction. "You don't mind if I take care of this, do you?"

"Not at all. I rather think I have a matter to attend to myself."

***************

At their arrival at the New York station, the men were still sleeping. Tom and Beau, having no choice, resolved to sneak out past them.

"Not a bad coat." Beau looked at the jacket discarded by one sleeping head. "I'll snag it as we go by."

"Is that not stealing?"

"Merely getting paid," Beau answered, "For they rode on our car, and did not offer us any rum for their passage. Besides, I shall want to make a fair impression in this Yankee city, and with the price of this I can manage both shirt and pants."

Doing even as he said, Beau caught up the coat and followed Tom through the open door into the rail yard. They had only gone a few steps when a loud voice exploded behind them.

"What ho! Where are you boys come up from?"

It was the dreaded Pinks. Two of them, and both bearing billy clubs.

Beau looked around for a place to run, but there was no escape!

"Please, sir," Tom said in his most innocent voice. "There are two men in that car and you must come to aid them. They are naked together,and I think they must be ill."

"Ill, eh? The taller of the two men smiled evilly "Get along with you two, and my mate and me will give them something for what ails them!"

"But?" The shorter man glanced inquiringly at Tom and Beau.

"Let `em go," his mate answered. "We don't need their eyes."

Beau looked around.

"It is clear now. We had both better get gone before they come back for us."

"Then take these." Tom handed his companion the few pennies that he had left from his morning labor . "Now that I am in my own city, even if I receive no good welcome from Mr. Long, I shall soon be able to earn more."

"That I will take, for it is never lucky to pass up money. Likewise I shall take the direction of your Mrs. Quimm, if you do not make an objection giving her up?"

"If she suits you, you may have my place with my good will."

And so the two boys parted on the best of terms, and of Beauregard Crispus Washington we shall hear no more for now.

Chapter Nineteen: Oral Testimony

Tom scanned the rail yard for his friend Dick, but could not spot him

Likely done for the day, Tom thought, or off on some other job. While Dick was a 'street Arab', he was also a diligent lad, and for all that he worked only for himself he none the less worked hard at whatever tasks fell his way.

Lacking both a penny and a friend, Tom thought he should have no better course then to make his way back to Fifth Avenue by 'shanks mare'. It was a long hike, and the day was drawing on to suppertime before he reached that elegant stretch of mansions.

"Here boy!"

Tom turned to see a uniformed figure running toward's him. It was the Irish policeman that patrolled the park bordering this plush neighborhood. Normally he would have greeted Tom as cheerfully as he did the other inhabitants of this fine houses, but today he did not recognize the boy under his unaccustomed sailors rags.

"What would you think to be doing?"

"Good day, office. I am headed for Mr. Longs residence."

"That's no place for your sort. Be off with you."

"But he will wish to see me, I am sure."

"And I am sure he should not! Tramp boys have no place in this decent part of town. If I see your begging face again it will go the worse for you, you little vagrant."

"Please, officer."

Within seconds To found himself hanging from one beefy paw.

"That's it. It's to jail with you now."

"But I have done no crime! I merely wish to speak with Mr. Long."

"You'll be speaking to a judge - mayhap."

Tom was about to be born away when the voice of salvation broke over the scene in the sweet tone of an angel.

"Tom!"

It was Percy's sweet soprano which rose up from the park, followed swiftly by his pink-suited boyish form.

"Percy!" Tom cried.

"Percy!" Miss Snubbs cried, hurrying up behind."

The `copper' looked suspiciously from the ragged vagrant in his fist to the Gotham princeling standing before him, then back again. Comprehension - slow as the dawn - finally spread across his ruddy features.

"You know this lad?" he asked Percy slowly. "You want to know this lad?"

"He is Tom, my brother, who vanished from this city Friday night, kidnapped even as I was."

Percy fell to his knees, gathering Tom's leg in his tight embrace.

"Tom we were so worried. Dick brought your message, but then you did not come at all. Father has set the Pinkertons to looking for you, but we feared this time the kidnapping had occurred in
truth."

"I must think it did Percy, although the reasons for it are yet unsettled in my mind. That, I fear, is a matter I must discuss with your father. But for now? For now it is enough to be received back into your embrace,and know that I yet retain your brotherly affections."

The policeman turned to Miss Snubbs, who was watching the tableau with the expression one who has bitten an unripe apple - and that apple perhaps gifted with a worm besides. Still, as that was the lady's usual visage, I must urge the reader not to make overmuch of the occurrence.

"Pardon, Miss." The policeman tipped his hat to Miss Snubbs. "Do you know this boy?"

"I fear I do. He is a street boy that Mr. Long has taken in from charity, and in reward of a kindness done to his son Percy. He had vanished a few pays past, but now I see he is returned."

Miss Snubbs turned to Tom.

"You are looking well enough. We has speculated that you had been assaulted, or even shanghaied. It is dangerous down there on the docks with all the rough sailors."

Tom, freed from his constraint, bowed politely to Miss Snubbs.

"Not quite assaulted, but definitely shanghaied."

"Oh, Tom!" Percy's fingers much deeper into the limb he now clutched as a lifeline.

"It is a long story, Percy, and one best told to your father first, but I am glad to be back."

*******

Percy tugged on Tom's hand, urging him faster as they made their way back to the house. Once arrived, he rushed through to the study door, upon which he pounded with boyish excitement.

"Percy! whatever..?" Mr. Long appeared at the opening.

At the sight of his second visitor, Mr. Long's face lit up with pleasure.

"Tom! Tom my boy!"

Gathering Tom into his embrace, Mr. Long spoke to his son.

"Percy, dearest. Run up and tell the staff that Tom is back. Then go with Miss Snubbs and get his things ready for him."

"Gladly, father."

As Percy clambered noisily down the stairs to the kitchen, drawing Miss Snubbs behind him, Tom struggled to hold back his tears of relief. Looking his beloved Mr. Long straight in the eye, Tom drew his self up manfully, squared his shoulders, and began.

"Mr. Long. I fear I have much I must say. Some of it may not be pleasing, but I must ask that of charity you hear me out. Then , if you wish, I shall..."

Mr. Long broke the sentence with a kiss.

"Later. Later, my dearest Tom. For now it is enough that you are safe again, and home. I would ask no more."

Tom's heat leapt at this sign of continued affection. He was forgiven his absence. Absolved of his careless folly. Whatever the outcome of his deeper confession, at least he was not yet utterly cast out from the single source of his happiness.

"I would," Tom answered, resting his head trustingly against Mr. Long's chest. "And above all things I would hope and pray you would, unless you will accept what I would give even without your asking."

"Would you overwhelm me with your gratitude? Especially since I have so failed you, luring you unthinkingly into the same danger as my dear Percy."

"Oh, sir! That is no fault of yours, and if it was I would suffer gladly in place of my dearest `little brother'. My dear sir! You must know you have not only my gratitude but my whole heart. That is the first of the thoughts I must tell you."

Tom gazed up into his idol's deep chocolate eyes.

"Only do not send me away. Not even so near a distance as Mrs. Quimm. Even if it is as your servant, keep my by your side. While I know myself unworthy, sir, I must yet beg you allow me some place in your life, for apart from you have have no more desire to live."

"No, Tom."

NO! At that harsh single word, Tom felt his heart must fail. As Moses, he had been granted a glimpse of promise, only to be forever denied entry into that blessed place. How could he yet live, when life had no gain? No hope? No prospect of happiness?

Mr. Long, seeing Tom's eyes drop, took his chin and gently raised them up again. Stroking Tom's cheek gently, he said.

"My dearest lad. Never would I reject you. It is I who am unworthy of your sweet love. You blessed innocence must never be sullied by one as scared by this world as I know myself to be."

Tom smiled, and in so doing his love shone from his eyes with the brightness of an unveiled sun.

"In that, and in that alone, my dear sir, I must oppose your opinion."

"Sweet boy. I my selfishness I can not deny you. But this is no time for such matters, while you are still weak from your troubles. Go on upstairs. You must eat something, and bathe, and have
some rest."

Tom clutched his beloved closer, reveling in the security of his returned affection.

"Never apart from you, dearest sir. I hunger- yes - but for your presence above all things."

"I will come with you, for we have been to long parted."

"If you are with me, I care not where I go."

******

So they proceed together, arm in arm. to the private quarters of the large mansion. Tom, being much aware of his dirt and disorder, paused at the door to the main bathroom.

"Would you bath first, Tom? Should I wait for you in my chambers?"

Tom drew himself more closely into Mr. Longs protective embrace.

"Do not leave me!"

"You would have me even here?"

"I would have you everywhere!"

So beseeched, Mr. Long entered the chamber with Tom. With sure knowledge he adjusting the water and poured in softly scented oils to sooth the young lad's salt- reddened hands. That completed, Mr. Long helped Tom gently out of his rags, muttering fiercely when he saw the marks and bruises that discolored the pale skin.

"Tom, sweet heart. You are much to thin, and I shudder to contemplate what you have suffered."

"I have absorbed much much I would have avoided, it is true, but it is past, and I must hope I am none the worse for it. Indeed, though that was never the intent, I have gained much in the knowledge of my desires. Now that I am returned I am resolved to concentrate on what is of true value, and forgive the offenses which were pressed upon me.

"I admire your noble spirit. Would that I had attained wisdom so young, I should have made fewer errors in my heart."

At Mr. Longs direction, Tom sunk blissfully into the scented water.

"Oh, sir, that feels wondrously soothing. It seems strange, when a ship is surrounded by water, but there was no place on board to bath."

"Lean back, Tom, and I shall wash your hair."

Suiting actions to words, Mr. Long massaged the lathered soap into Tom's blond locks, drawing forth little moans of pleasure as his strong fingers found the spots which Rogers blows had left tender.

"Thank you, sir", Tom sighed. "Your touch feels so good."

"I am glad of that."

Soaping up a washcloth, Mr. Long guided it carefully over Tom's sun-scorched shoulders.

"Tell me if this hurts you. I will strive to be gentle, but I fear it shall sting a bit."

"You are always gentle with me, sir, and I should not object even if there was some pain, for I know you act only for my benefit."

"So I hope I always shall. Lean forward so I may see the full length of your back."

"I fear that shall not prove too pretty, sir. There was an unfortunate incident with some ropes."

""Which managed to abrade your chest as well, so I observe."

"No, sir. Those marks are from the barrel he had me tied over, and he ones on my ankles are from the chains."

"Indeed, I can see you have had a very adventurous time. When you are rested I am determined we shall have a long and intimate talk about these matters."

"As you wish, sir. I shall have no secrets from you."

"Move around, Tom. I fear I can not reach your legs unless you turn."

"But then the tap shall be harsh against my back," Tom answered cleverly. "Please sir. Could you not work from the other side? I have always considered that there was room enough here for two."

Mr. Long smiled and handed Tom the washcloth.

"So there is. If you do not object to my familiarity?"

"I would cherish it. Besides, then I might return your kind attentions."

Tom watched appreciatively Mr. Long quickly undressed. He was not slim, like a boy, but gifted with the broad shoulders and flat waist of a true man. His deep chest was covered with curls as dark as his hair, which followed down over the hard plane of his stomach to the shaded V of his well- muscled thighs. If he had added weight since his youth, the weight was the well honed muscle of honest labor, maintained though the developments of middle life. His legs were like granite pillars dusted with sable, and above them, as if enshrined in splendor, was the perfect form of his evident masculinity. Hard, dark, and crowned with a purpled head, it rose above his heavy balls as the flawless ornament sculpted by a master artist.

Unaware of Tom's appreciative observations, Long laid out another towel and slipped into the sweet-scented water opposite to Tom.

Tom shifted to one side, leaving a space where he had previously reposed.

"Please, sir. You should take this side, and lean back."

"Will the tap not bother your back?"

"Only if I was to lean back against it, and in this my intent is rather to lean forward."

"As you will, Tom, but I do not understand."

"I told you I had learned many things on my adventures, did I not?"

Tom positioned himself between Mr. Longs outspread legs and licked his lips, gazing avariciously at the banquet thus spread before him.

"Well, sir, this is the first of them."

So saying Tom bend down and, after carefully lifting and kissing each swelling testicle, gently drew the soft head of Mr. Longs upraised shaft between his lips.

"Tom!" Harold long gasped, clutching the tiled sides of the bath as the exquisite sensation of damp warmth encompassing his heated flesh - added to the erotic vision of those fresh blond curls bowed to worshipfully above his thighs - threatened to overwhelm his reason. "You can not want this!"

Tom looked up momentarily from his labors,

"But I do, sir. I want quite desperately, and I beg you will permit me the feast I have dreamed of so during my exile."

Harold Long fell back, surrendering himself utterly to the desires of the handsome boy that posed like a blond Neptune rising from the water.

"I can not resist you. Do with me as you will."

So licensed, Tom bent back to his co- pleasurable exertions with a will.

And thus, in mutual accord, we must leave our hero's. I fear it shall be rather long a wait before they are inclined to return their attentions to the forwarding of the plot.

**************

In the mean time, we may observe Miss Snubbs. She has left young Percy to the attentions of Cook, and is in her room, quickly comprising a letter which will warn Mr. Vench of the return of Tom Lance. We should not doubt that, when that missive is received, it shall be of particular concern to the recipient.

Chapter Twenty: Familial Relations

Clean, rested, and at last dressed properly, Tom and Mr. Long made their way downstairs for dinner. It was, as customary, to be a family matter. Aside from the two mentioned, the only others were young Percy, in the company of his nursemaid, and the self-invited Roland Vench.

Seeing Tom returned, and in such evident favor, Vench turned pale indeed, for he knew his stratagems were in danger of discovery.

They were seated and served, and Tom was making sturdy headway on his repast, when Long called the table to general attention.

"Now, my dearest Tom, I must ask you to recount all that has happened."

Tom handed him the letter, and with it the oilcloth package that Paddy had passed to him, having little strength left for explanations.

Harold Long read it and his expression grew dark.

"Your name is written here, Roland, binding one Tom Lance - son of Mike Lance - to seven years of apprenticeship at sea. What explanation do you have for this?"

Vench knew he was in trouble, but thought with a clever story he might still be forgiven.

"The boy needed a place. Thus I found him a task I though him best suited for. It was a kindly act, for which most would hold he should thank me. Besides, I did not like his influence on my nephew. "

"Was I not to be the judge of that?"

Vench answered carefully, but with the calm air of one in superior ground.

"I am sorry to have upset you, brother, but I asked that favor of Scupper only with the best of intents. If the man acted more crudely then I might have anticipated, well, he is a sailor, and I have long said that such men are dangerously uncivilized."

Tom looked up from his second bowl of soup.

"Do not totally condemn Mr. Lance, for in his action he had done me some good. I met a man who knew my father, and he told me much about my birth."

Oblivious to Vench's blanched look of suppressed horror, Tom recounted what Rogers had said about Robert Hardstaff, Mike Lance, and the events of the Saucy Sue.

"Of course, sir, I make no claim on Captain Hardstaff, but even the news of Mr. Lance is a gift I shall treasure."

Harold Long listened carefully, rubbing his chin slowly as he considered all that Tom had reported.

"That is indeed an interesting turn of events. But how did you come to be with this Mrs. Lance?"

"Say my mother sir. My mother - for so I still feel in my heart I must call her - said that I was left in her care by a poorly built blond man with thin features. He introduced himself by the name of Smith, although that matter she always held in some debate, and he paid her well to take on the care of me. He was a nervous, furtive man, and she was always worried about the honestly of matter, so she left me a letter with the details, and likewise a sketch she made of the man himself."

Tom reached into his purse and pulled out a folded paper that he had carried since leaving his country home. Without more speech, he passed it over to Mr. Long.

"The lady had some talent."

"Thank you, sir."

"The years change much, but I yet recognize this face. VENCH!"

Seeing the game was up, Vench had no other recourse but to confess and trust himself to the familial mercy of his brother-in-law.

"I concede. I was the one who passed Tom here on to the care of Mary Lance."

Long was shocked. "Why? Why would you do that to your sister's child?"

"Hardstaff was dead. Had the infant been produced, he would have inherited instead of my sister."

"A sister that you hoped would share her wealth with you?"

Vench shrugged. "She had always done so, but even if she had not? She was my sister. None other could ever be so close to me."

"So you gave the child - her child -your own nephew - Tom here - to a widow to be raised in the country?"

Roland Vench nodded his assent.

"He was somewhat of my own blood. I did not think it was right to kill him."

"For which small judgment you may give thanks, for had you done otherwise you would not long retain your own life. No more then, should Tom have fallen at sea, should Scupper. Speaking of whom..."

"Sir... Father!" Percy interrupted from the nearby desk, where he had gone to retrieve some object.

"Yes, Percy?"

"Sir, would you look at this?" Percy held up a paper taken from the packet. It was a note to Scupper. In the other hand he held out the ransom note from his own miscarried kidnapping.

"My heavens, son," Mr. Long declared. "There does seem a resemblance. But this is nothing like Captain Scupper's lettering. If it is not by Scupper? Who else could have written it? Could Scupper have planned some further villainy, unknown to Vench? We must summon the police at once, even if it means a family scandal."

"Do not bother." Vench said. "I confess it is mine - written with my left hand."

"Vench why?" Mr. Long asked. "Even if you had a grudge against Tom - for which I can not find the heart to fully forgive you - what possible reason could you have for kidnapping Percy?"

"None. Nor did I."

"What?"

"I simply wrote the note." Vench gave a languid wave at the writing desk. "The child had run off. That was his own act, and none of mine. He would either return or not, according to his luck. But in the mean time, I could make use of the 'ransom' you would pay."

"To what purpose?"

"To any purpose. Money is always useful, and you have never given me enough of it." Vench sat back in his chair. "In this particular case, as it so happens, I gave the funds to Scupper, so he would forgive the debt of Captain Bollock, who would in turn consent to take Tom here off our hands."

"So it all comes together." Mr. Long shook his head slowly, gazing at Tom who sat spellbound by these shocking revelations.

"Robert Hardstaff was indeed my partner and my friend. If you are his son, then you must be as dear to me as he was. That should explain the instant attraction I felt when I saw your face on the train."

Tom answered slowly, looking from face to face. "Then, sir, if his mother was first mine, it must follow that young Percy truly is my brother."

"A double tie," Long conceded.

Percy smiled broadly. "Now we shall truly be happy, for you shall remain with us always, dearest brother."

"Now that I know your true origins, I shall certainly insist you have Robert's share of my business."

"I care nothing for that, my dear sir, as long as I may have your affection and your trust."

"That you shall have too, for I could deny nothing to my dear Robert's child."

There was a moment of general happiness - at least among the more honest trio of our company - before Mr. Long turned his attention back to the darker matters at hand.

"You, Vench. I can not jail you. It would be a scandal to damage my own dear Percy, who must sadly remain your nephew before the world. I would hold Tom the more happy for his country rearing - if only that he was not so closeted with a viper - save that then I should have been deprived of both my joys."

Long smiled at Percy, then at Tom, then frowned at Vench.

"Still, I can not longer trust you in New York, or even in the country. You shall sail on the earliest departing of my boats to either the southern island or the Asian ports, and there you must make your own way. It is a hard place, but there is room for an ambitious man who will work, and I know you to possess at least one of those two virtues. See that you do not again come to New York."

"And as for you, Miss Snubbs. At the very least you have given false testimony about Percy's kidnapping. and I am inclined to think the worse of your intentions. I am loath to hand a lady over to the law, but..."

"Please, sir." Miss Snubbs tried to school her features into a pleading expression. "I did it only because Roland swore he loved me." At that name, she sent the object of her supposed affection a look that - for sheer strength of venom - would have done a cobra proud. "So it is written, men were deceivers ever."

"Is that it?." Mr. Long rubbed his forehead, then sighed.

"Marry her, Vench, and you shall have an allowance of three thousand a year and the post of director at the Jamaica office. I must trust that your greed and my accountants shall combine to keep you somewhat honest. Thus I shall be rid of two vipers in one basket."

If Miss Snubbs would rather have kept single then to take Vench in his comparative poverty, she would still rather Vench then the tasks of a laundress at Sing Sing.

And if Vench would have preferred a long sea voyage to the domestic company of Miss Vench? She was still better then the welcome he would receive from Scupper's disgruntled comrades.

Besides, they both considered, Jamaica would be far enough from civil society that there would be few above them to condemn or confound their various amusements, and three thousand a year over a director's salary would allow them to live richly in comparison to the general run of islanders.

Seeing their simultaneous smiles, Mr. Long's heart was warmed. He would not have had either of them, but if they were happy together? He would wish them well, and count it a Christian act that they were thus uninflicted on two more innocent spouses.

So, contented if not happy, the now affianced Roland Vench and Sally Snubbs took their leave together. We shall hear no more of them for a while.

Percy - now absent feminine guidance - was sent up to his room in the tender care of Mr. Long's valet. This was an arrangement that was to suit them both well, the man proving to have a natural talent for understanding the pleasure of young boys. Besides which, Mr. Long was soon to find himself with less need of that man's services. Thus, to Percy's unconcealed delight, Miss Snubbs never was replaced.

So, having disposed of the other characters, we must find that only Mr. Long and Tom Lance remain a matter of our consideration.

********

Dinner being past, our two leads retired to Mr. Longs study to further consider the disclosures of the day.

Once private, Tom fell into his mentor's arms, raising his lips for a long kiss."

"Oh. Mr. Long."

"Should you not call me father?"

"Of such an honor I know I can never be worthy. Say only that you will love me, and call me by whatever name you will."

Seating Tom and himself side by side on the sofa, Mr. Long drew Tom deeper into his embrace, and exchanged with him kisses of such strength that - at length - they were force apart by the need to catch their breath.

"Oh, Tom. My sweetest Tom. After all that has passed, do you not know that I return your affection."

Tom dropped to his knees, resting his head against Long's lap.

"I am too aware of my limitations, compared to your experience, and fear I shall fail to please though ignorance."

"Say rather innocence, which virtue shall serve to make you all the more dear to my heart. For I know, even before you have said it, that I am the first man to whom you have offered the treasures of your devotion."

Tom looked up, tears of joy welling in his azure eyes.

"My most beloved, I must beg you to grant me the fullest proof of that affection. Come within me, and make me truly your own."

Long hesitated. "You are only a virgin once

"That once has endured long enough." Tom punctuated his plea with intimate kisses, the effect of which did not leave his subject unmoved. "Please, I beg of you! If you do truly love me as you did my father."

Harold Long smiled gently, drawing Tom up into his arms.

"Do you know, sweet Tom, it was on this very couch that I first received the devotion of my beloved Robert, your father and my dearest partner? For that memory I have preserved it all these years."

"Then let me likewise come to you."

Tom reached for Mr. Long's jacket, drawing it from his shoulders.

"Tell me how he came to gain your affection, for I would study to do likewise."

Long conceded with a nod, yielding Tim up his jacket and vest, and returning the favor by claiming Tom's garments in his turn.

"We were at Harvard together. It was in the summer of our freshman year. Our quarters were hot, and so we had removed our jackets and were sitting about in dishabille.. and the vision of his manly chest through that thin linen so overwhelmed my senses that my modesty gave way and I - foolish in youth - stammered out my declaration to him."

Tom sighed, claiming Mr. Long's shirt likewise.

"Your declaration must have been well received, for I can not think my father such a fool as to disvalue the love of one so noble."

"Indeed, he answered my words with kisses, sweeping me into his arms like this and laying me back upon this very cushion."

"Like this, sir? And then what?"

He relieved me of the rest of my burdensome garments and with gentle but knowing hands lay me down beneath him."

Tom's trousers and undergarments vanished even as Long spoke.

"Like this?" Tom asked, spreading his legs to allow Mr. Long full access to his body.

"Very much the same." Long eased Tom over on his front and gently introduced a velvet pillow under his belly. "Here, I would not have you discomforted."

"Not at all sir." Tom drew Mr. Longs hand to his lips and kissed it. "I am most wondrously comfortable - do go on."

Long knelt carefully between Tom's outstretched legs, urging them still further apart.

"He kissed his way down my spine, much as this, until at last he came to the very portal of our joy."

Tom gasped at the sensation of Mr.Longs lips traveling warmly down his spine, kissing bone after bone in a steady march to the most secret of his entrances. There the kisses lingered and deepened, drawing the gasps out into a sort of groan.

It was with difficulty that Tom managed to whisper.

"Go on, sir. Please!"

Mr. Long circled the entrance with a gentle touch.

"He had some special cream." The finger hesitated, half withdrawn. "I fear I have only hand lotion."

Tom lifted his hips, fearful of loosing that blissful touch.

"Surely it shall suffice, sir. I would not have you hesitate now. Do go on."

"He spread the cream gently between my cheeks and then into my back passage - much like this."

"Oh, sir, please, more! That feels wonderful!"

"You are sure my finger does not distress you?"

"Oh, never. Please, sir. May I have another?"

"As you desire."

Long lotioned a second finger and sent it up beside the first.

"Robert had given me a second finger as well. Then, as I recall, he stroked me about", Long felt carefully for the slight bump that would hold Tom's pleasure, "here."

"Oh, yes!" Tom moaned.

"And I remember my begging him to come within me."

"As I shall, sir, for that is truly a wondrous sensation. Did he do it again?"

"No, Tom, not just then. Then he rested his manhood against me - thusly - and." Long fell silent, hesitating at this most final act. "Oh, Tom, I do not know if I should do this. You are so young and innocent, and I would not harm you for the world."

Tom thrust back on the fingers, nearly sobbing with need.

"Please! If you stop now you shall kill me."

"Very well, my sweetness, but know I do this only for love of you."

So saying, Mr. Long pressed his throbbing tool slowly into Tom's untried passage. Tom cried out and clutched the cushions as the broad head touched, pressed, and finally forced it's way past the circle of guardian muscle.

"Did I harm you?" Mr. Long asked gently.

"Never! More! Please!"

In truth, Tom felt as if a flaming torch had been shoved past his nether cheeks, so burning was the agony of his lower channel. But, even as the pain passed through him so - swift on it's heels - came a promise of nerve shearing bliss.

Long drove deeper, sliding his length over Tom's pleasure point, until at last he was buried fully inside Tom with his heavy balls resting gently on the other sac below them.

Tom felt as if he was burning from inside to out. As if a hot poker had been thrust within him, and yet remained unquenched.

Long reached around, claiming Tom's lance even as he claimed his ass. Then he withdrew, emptying Tom only to drive back all the fiercer into the now-opened channel.

Tom bucked up, unable to bear the double sensation.

The flame turned to heat, and spread in waves though Tom's whole body.

Longs hand tightened, stroking in counterpoint to the thrust of his manhood in Tom's rear.

Tom bucked back, then forward, gasping each time the fleshly probe struck his inner joy, moaning each time the fingers stroked his weeping head, until at last his world exploded in a pleasure of white flame.

************

It was morning before the two men felt rested enough to deal with the remainder of their obligations in this matter.

Dick, who's efforts at searching the city had been appreciated if unavailing, was invited to breakfast with the new family. Afterwards, he and Tom took a stroll in the park, watching Percy as he amused himself with the valet.

"So, you are to be a gentleman." Dick said after he had heard the entire revelation of Vench's perfidy and Tom's confused parentage. "Are you off to Harvard?"

"No. What I would learn there, Mr. Long feels well equipped to teach me here in our own home."

"True enough. What he could not teach, a lad would be a fool to wish to know."

"But Dick?" Tom took his friend by the hand. " What of you? I would hate to think all your efforts unrewarded. I am certain Mr. Long would give anything I asked."

"Tom, my friend, you need not fret for me."Dick replied cheerfully. "Throughout these troubles I have been in converse with Mr. Shafter and Sargent Queen. Your abduction and young Percy's have moved them deeply, and stiffened in their hearts a long standing longing for a boy of their own."

"Yes, I recall Sargent Queen mentioning as much when I introduced him to Percy."

"You know I have always had the fondest fellow-feeling for those men, and they for me. Sargent Queen has agreed to take me under his tuition, and rear me to the best of his ability."

"That is fine news! Sargent Queen is a worthy man, and under him you will surely be fulfilled in your ambitions."

"Not only that, Tom. They have understood how much, for all of my debonair, I have felt the absence of a family name. Unlike you, I had not even a foster father to grant me such. So they have offered me the honor of theirs. We are going to Judge Dredd, and Wednesday next Dirty Dick shall vanish, to be reborn Richard Queen-Shafter."

"How excellent." Tom slapped his hands in delight. "I know you shall make a most excellent Queen-Shafter, and they will be filled with joy for having taken you as their ward."

(With a final few mentions, gentle reader, we must take our leave of this company.)

Mr. Scupper was bound over to Captain Bollock with clear instructions to take the man to the most distant and least pleasing port that might be found. Scupper was marooned on a small island just past Tahiti. Of course, that was a mere week before a traveling war-canoe of young Polynesian adventurers came upon the island... but that matter I shall leave for another novel. Suffice it to say that - while former Captain Scupper lived a long and eventful life - none of his acts was ever recounted to the polite society of New York.

Mr. Pegger was rewarded with Mr. (Formerly Captain) Scupper's prior command, on the quiet understanding that he find an appropriate resolution to Rogers and Pudd. This he handled by the simple expedient of trading them - mid-ocean - to a temporally undermanned ship of the Greek Navy. When released upon reaching Positano, Rogers took his pay and drank himself to death, but Mr. Pegger enlisted permanently. He explained that he had found sympathetic mates in the service, and he did not want to leave his buddies behind.

As Mr. Long felt he could not expose his brother- in - law, Roland Vench was married to Sally Snubbs and swiftly dispatched to manage the Jamaican office. There, between his overbearing ways and her supposed aristocratic connections, they became unquestioned leaders of the more anglophilic branch of local society.

Generally ignoring the duties of the shipping office - to the general benefit of all concerned - Roland Vench instead passed his days in social works. He founded a charity for the free education and rearing of orphan boys, and was often known to take his charges on pleasant and healthful jaunts in the countryside. He died - a pillar of the community - when he unfortunately fell over a cliff on one such expedition. His youthful companion tearfully testified that Mr. Vench had been pursuing a bird, and had sadly tripped over a carelessly untied shoelace. Vench's funeral was lavish, and attended my the dignitaries of three counties, if by none of his relatives.

Sally Vench at length bore a dozen children - none of them even slightly blond - and ended her days as a driving force of the local Anglican congregation.

So we learn we should return good for ill, and trust in God to turn all things to his good.

Dick, true to Tom's prediction, did much to honor his adopted fathers. As the heroic Major Queen-Shafter, he rose with honor through the service of his country, and retires at last to command a prestigious boys military academy. We may trust that the lads who studies under him were after open to many of the best opportunities of public service. While he never married, he did adopt several orphan boys who are sure to live up to the obligations of their family name.

Beauregard did indeed find a satisfactory position with Mrs. Quimm, although she quickly declared him much to fine-spoken to labor in a shipping room. Instead she offered him the post as her personal secretary and confident, in the course of which responsibilities he often had occasion to meet up with Tom and Mr. Long. Beau prospered well in those duties, as his fine southern manners made him a general favorite of all the New York society ladies. Even so, he steadfastly refused to leave Mrs. Quimm, insisting that he only accommodate the others as best he might in his spare time. When Mrs. Quimm passed on she left him all her property, and in his age Beau retired to a residential establishment in Nevada, where he could contribute his talents to the cultural uplift of a nascent state.

Young Percy flourished under the more gentle guidance of a carefully chosen tutor, and he is the youthful darling of the theater set. For all that, his inherent good sense indicates that he will settle into manhood and bring joy to his father and stepbrother.

And as for our hero?

Tom remained with Mr. Long. All financial worries erased, he at length did agree to attended Harvard College, once reminded that - as a major stockholder - either he or Harold Long could have a train dispatched to New York at their pleasure.There Tom pledged to his father's and Mr. Long's fraternity, and was soon general favorite among the `brothers'.

Mr. Long continued as Tom's guide and mentor, and was often `down' on the weekends to cheer his partner's son in his collegiate track meets and football games. Indeed, Long developed a strong interest in the emerging sports, and soon became one of the institution's most enthusiastic athletic
supporters.

Tom finished his program with laudable speed, graduating with honors. He returned to aid Mr. Long in handling his many growing interests, and their familial affection is an inspiration to behold. Seldom, indeed, have two men proved closer in sympathies.

The enterprises of Long and Hardstaff - for so the partnership came to be renamed - expanded into virgin territories, and at Tom's insistence soon come to encompass the newly popular automobile. This Tom Hardstaff always held out as his greatest achievement. For - as he so often pointed out from his own experiences - a young person was far less likely to suffer dishonor seated in the rear of a private auto carriage then in the promiscuous company of a public train.

So we may well learn that virtue, clean living, and honest work shall always have their reward.