Clarence, dear, where is the boy?"

"I don't know anything about the boy, little one, but I will inquire and
tell you. I think the little chap has two more friends left, dear. You
are one. I am the other."

"Oh, Uncle Clarence, you are a dear ducky-ducky-darling! And when I am a
grown-up woman, I will marry you."

"Oh! well, all right, if you remain in the same mind, and--"

"I will never, never change my mind. I love you better than I do anybody
in the world, except Sylvan and grandma, and Miss Flowers and Tip!"

Clarence kept his word with the child about making inquiries as to the
fate of the boy in whom she was interested.

The boy was motherless, and, by the death of his father, had been left
utterly destitute. He had found a home with Scythia Woods, an eccentric
woman, who lived in a hut on the mountain side, half way between North
End and Rockhold, and he supported himself in a poor way by running
errands and doing little jobs about the works.

Little Cora Haught listened to this account of the poor, friendless,
self-reliant lad with the deepest sympathy.

"Uncle Clarence," she pleaded, "you are so rich. Why don't you give
that poor boy clothes, and shoes, and hats, and all he ought to have?"

"My good little girl, nothing would give me more delight, but that