They was awful cruel--them girls. But when I axed the matron
why the man didn't come no more, she put me off. I guess he was
only foolin'," decided Sister, with a sigh. Folks like to fool
me--like Mr. Crackit--eh?"

But Mrs. Atterson told Hiram, when he asked about Sister's meagre
little story, that the institution had promised to let her know
if the lawyer ever returned to make further inquiries about the
orphan. Somebody really had died who was of kin to the girl, but
through some error the institution had not made a proper record
of her pedigree and the lawyer who had instituted the search a
seemed to have dropped out of sight.

But Hiram was not troubled by poor Sister's private affairs upon
this Monday morning. It was the beginning of a new week, indeed,
to him. He had turned over a new leaf of experience. He hoped
that he was pretty near to the end of his harsh city existence.

He hurried downstairs, long in advance of the other boarders, and
Mrs. Atterson served him some breakfast, although there was no
milk for the coffee.

"I dunno where that plague o' my life, Sister's, gone," sputtered
the old lady, fussing about, between dining-room and kitchen. "I
sent her out ten minutes ago for the milk. And if you want to
get that first train to Scoville you've got to hurry."

"Never mind the milk," laughed the young fellow. "The train's
more important this morning."