But his good luck made him good-natured.
"Good-evening, Tom," he said. "I didn't see you selling papers to-day."
"No; I was on Dearborn Street."
"He doesn't know it was me," thought Tom, congratulating himself, and added: "Have you been buying a sewing machine?"
This was said in a joke.
"Yes," answered Luke, considerably to Tom's surprise. "I have bought one."
"How much?"
"Twenty-five dollars."
"Where did you raise twenty-five dollars? You're foolin'."
"I bought it on the installment plan – five dollars down."
"Oho!" said Tom, nodding significantly. "I know where you got that money?"
"Where did I?"
"From the gentleman that bought a couple of papers yesterday."
"You hit it right the first time."
"I thought you weren't no better than the rest of us – you that pretended to be so extra honest."
"What do you mean by that, Tom Brooks?"
"You pretended that you were going to give back the man's change, and spent it, after all. I thought you weren't such a saint as you pretended to be."
"I see you keep on judging me by yourself, Tom Brooks. I took round the money this morning, and he gave it to me."
"Is that true?"
"Yes; I generally tell the truth."
"Then you're lucky. If I'd returned it, he wouldn't have given me a cent."
"It's best to be honest on all occasions," said Luke, looking significantly at Tom, who colored up, for he now saw that he had been recognized the night before.
Tom sneaked off on some pretext, and Luke kept on his way home.
"Did you do well to-day, Luke?" asked Bennie.
"Yes, Bennie; very well."
"How much did you make?"
"I'll tell you by and by. Mother, can I help you about the supper?"
"You may toast the bread, Luke. I am going to have your favorite dish – milk toast."
"All right, mother. Have you been sewing to-day?"
"Yes, Luke. I sat so long in one position that I got cramped."
"I wish you had a sewing machine."
"So do I, Luke; but I must be patient. A sewing machine costs more money than we can afford."
"One can be got for twenty-five dollars, I have heard."
"That is a good deal of money for people in our position."
"We may as well hope for one. I shouldn't be surprised if we were able to buy a sewing machine very soon."
Meanwhile Luke finished toasting the bread and his mother was dipping it in milk when a step was heard on the stairway, the door was opened, and Nancy's red head was thrust into the room.
"Please, Mrs. Walton," said Nancy, breathlessly, "there's a man downstairs with a sewing machine which he says is for you."
"There must be some mistake, Nancy. I haven't ordered any sewing machine."
"Shall I send him off, ma'am?"
"No, Nancy," said Luke; "it's all right. I'll go down stairs and help him bring it up."
"How is this, Luke?" asked Mrs. Walton, bewildered.
"I'll explain afterwards, mother."
Up the stairs and into the room came the sewing machine, and was set down near the window. Bennie surveyed it with wonder and admiration.
When the man who brought it was gone, Luke explained to his mother how it had all come about.
"You see, mother, you didn't have to wait long," he concluded.
"I feel deeply thankful, Luke," said Mrs. Walton. "I can do three times the work I have been accustomed to do, and in much less time. This Mr. Afton must be a kind and charitable man."
"I like him better than his clerks," said Luke. "There is a red-headed bookkeeper and a boy there who tried to snub me, and keep me out of the office. I try to think well of red-headed people on account of Nancy, but I can't say I admire them."
After supper Luke gave his mother a lesson in operating the machine. Both found that it required a little practice.
The next morning as Luke was standing at his usual corner, he had a surprise.
A gentleman came out of the Sherman House and walked slowly up Clark Street. As he passed Luke, he stopped and asked, "Boy, have you the Inter-Ocean?"
Luke looked up in his customer's face. He paused in the greatest excitement.
The man was on the shady side of fifty, nearly six feet in height, with a dark complexion, hair tinged with gray, and a wart on the upper part of his right cheek!
CHAPTER VIII
A MARKED MAN
At last, so Luke verily believed, he stood face to face with the man who had deceived his dying father, and defrauded his mother and himself of a sum which would wholly change their positions and prospects. But he wanted to know positively, and he could not think of a way to acquire this knowledge.
Meanwhile the gentleman noticed the boy's scrutiny, and it did not please him.
"Well, boy!" he said gruffly, "you seem determined to know me again. You stare hard enough. Let me tell you this is not good manners."
"Excuse me," said Luke, "but your face looked familiar to me. I thought I had seen you before."
"Very likely you have. I come to Chicago frequently, and generally stop at the Sherman House."
"Probably that explains it," said Luke. "Are you not Mr. Thomas, of St. Louis?"
The gentleman laughed.
"You will have to try again," he said. "I am Mr. Browning, of Milwaukee. Thomas is my first name."
"Browning!" thought Luke, disappointed. "Evidently I am on the wrong track. And yet he answers father's description exactly."
"I don't know anyone in Milwaukee," he said aloud.
"Then it appears we can't claim acquaintance."
The gentleman took his paper and turned down Randolph Street toward State.
"Strange!" he soliloquized, "that boy's interest in my personal appearance. I wonder if there can be a St. Louis man who resembles me. If so, he can't be a very good-looking man. This miserable wart ought to be enough to
