CHAPTER XXXVII. CONCLUSION.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Manning could not help feeling anxious, about her prospects of a house.

"Have you heard of any house, Mr. Taylor?" she asked.

The hermit smiled.

"Don't be troubled, Mrs. Manning," he said; "when you leave this house you will find another one to move into."

Mrs. Manning was silenced, but still disquieted. She was even tempted to wonder whether old Anthony was really quite right in his mind. But there was nothing to be done. She could only wait, patiently.

The next day Mark arrived with little Jack. He was looking unusually well, his journey having given him a healthy color, and added to his flesh. Jack was still thin and pale, but was beginning to look better than when under Peggy's care.

The hermit was much moved, as he took the boy in his arms and kissed him.

The hermit was much moved, as he took the boy in his arms and kissed him.

"I can see my daughter's looks in you, Jack," he said. "I fear your life has been a sad one, poor child. It shall be my task to repay you for the hardships you have had to meet in your short life."

Little Jack seemed to take instinctively to the rough-looking but, kind-hearted old man. The poor match boy seemed to have drifted into a haven of rest.

"Shall I ever have to go back to Peggy?" he asked.

"Never, my child. This good lady," indicating Mrs. Manning, "will supply the place of your own mother."

"I will sell matches for you, if you want me to, grandfather. I didn't like working for Peggy, but I will work for you."

"My dear Jack, instead of working you must go to school, and learn all you can. When you are grown up, it will be time for you to work."

It soon became noised about that the little boy, who was seen about the village with Mark, was the hermit's grandson. But the grandson of old Anthony was not considered a very important person, and only excited passing interest.

Mark was let into the secret of the new home to which Mr. Taylor proposed to move, and he was naturally pleased to think that his mother's condition was to be so much improved.

Nothing had leaked out in the village, however, about the contemplated removal.

The week was nearly ended when Mark happened to meet James Collins in the street. James had been informed by his father that Mrs. Manning had received notice to leave the cottage, and it gratified his dislike of Mark. What puzzled him was, Mark's apparent indifference and evident good spirits.

"Perhaps he thinks my father will relent, and let him stay, but he'll find himself mistaken as I shall let him know when I get a chance."

The chance came that very day.

"Hallo!" said James, as Mark was about to pass him.

"Hallo!" responded Mark smiling.

"I hear you've got to move."

"So I hear."

"It's high time you were finding a new house."

"I think so myself, but that's my mother's business."

"You needn't think my father will let you stay where you are."

"Don't you think he would let us stay a month longer?"

"No, I don't."

"He wouldn't put us out in the street, would he?"

"Look here, Mark Manning, I see what you are at. You want to impose on my father's good nature. I shall warn him of your plan."

"Just as you please, James."

The result was that Squire Collins, sharing to some extent his son's apprehensions, made a call that same evening at the cottage. All the family were at home.

After the usual greetings were over, the squire said:

"I suppose, Mrs. Manning, you will be ready to move on Saturday?"

"Suppose my mother can't get a house," suggested Mark.

"She must find a house," said the squire, severely. "She has had time enough to find one. You mustn't blame me if I say that move you must on Saturday."

"You need have no anxiety, Squire Collins," said Mrs. Manning, with dignity. "I intend to move on that day."

"And where, may I ask?" inquired the squire, with curiosity.

"We move into the Beach house," answered Mark, his eyes fixed with smiling interest on the village magnate.

"What!" exclaimed the squire in amazement and incredulity. "Do you mean the house near mine?"

"Yes."

"You must be crazy," he gasped. "That is a very elegant house, and the rent is high."

"I think we can pay it."

"And your furniture is unfit for so handsome a residence, even if there were enough of it."

"We hire the house with its present furniture," said Mark complacently.

"I don't understand it at all!" exclaimed the perplexed squire. "How can you, being almost a beggar, dream of living there?"

"I think, Squire Collins," said old Anthony, quietly, "that you are somewhat in error as to my young friend Mark's circumstances."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that he has a very good property for a boy of his age."

Mark was as much amazed as the squire at this statement. The latter said with a sneer:

"And where is this famous property?"

"I will inform you with pleasure. There are a thousand dollars to his credit in a savings' bank in New York, and he holds a mortgage of four thousand dollars on your manufactory."

Even Mark thought Anthony was out of his mind.

"Why," stammered the squire, "I negotiated that mortgage through Mr. Hardy, of New York."

"Exactly! The money he advanced he held in trust for Mark."

"I can't believe this!" exclaimed the squire in mortification and bewilderment.

"Is this really true, Mr. Taylor?" asked Mark.

"Yes. Let me inform you, Squire Collins, that though I have lived as a hermit, I am really a moderately rich man, and some time since transferred without his knowledge five thousand dollars to Mark here, who, as you see, is really chief owner of the shop from which you discharged him."

"I didn't dream of this!" ejaculated the squire.

"I presume not," said the hermit dryly.

"If Mark chooses to come back into the shop, I will raise his wages."

"My friend Hardy intends to offer Mark a position in his office in the city, which I think will suit him better. It only remains to say that this cottage will be vacated on Saturday."

"I don't want to inconvenience Mrs. Manning," said the squire, filled with respect by the unexpected prosperity of those whom he had come to bully. "Stay another week if you wish."

"We don't wish, thank you," said Mark.

It was a wonderful story that Squire Collins had to tell at home, and the deep chagrin of James can be imagined. But he was worldly wise, and he soon decided to court the boy he had hitherto despised. What annoyed him most was the thought Mark held a mortgage on his father's shop, and was to live in a house handsomer than his own.

Five years have elapsed since the incidents recorded above. Mark fills a responsible position in the office of Mr. Hardy, with a handsome salary. Little Jack is now a rosy, healthy child of thirteen, and those who remembered him as a match boy would not know him now. His grandfather's happiness is bound up in his little grandson, but he is still very much attached to Mark, and he has made a new will, in which he divides his fortune equally between these two.

Lyman Taylor is again within the walls of a penitentiary, having forged a check upon a well-known merchant of Chicago; and old Peggy, taking Jack's place, is to be seen any day on Clark or State streets, with a basket of matches, which she makes an excuse for appealing to the charity of passers by. Her face is growing redder and redder, as her potations increase, and she will probably end her career in a hospital or alms-house.

James Collins is now a clerk in Newport, on a small salary, with which he is very much discontented, and from time to time asks a loan of his old schoolfellow, Mark, to whom he is now compelled to look up. He has developed extravagant tastes, and is always in debt. I greatly fear that neither his habits nor his fortunes will improve as he grows older. For our hero, Mark, and those who belong to him, we may anticipate brighter days and greater prosperity, as a fitting recompense of industry and good habits.

The End