"Of course—that is, after necessary expenses are paid."
"And what am I to do then?"
"Nothing, except to stay here, and see that nobody gets hold of Jack. Does he know who he is?"
"He thinks I'm his aunt."
"And is proud of the connection, no doubt," said Lyman, who could not restrain his tendency to sarcasm. "Well, perhaps that is as well. Don't let any one know that it is not true. We can keep quiet till the time comes to make it known. Now, I'll leave you, and take the first step by writing to my uncle. Good afternoon, Peggy! I'll call again in a day or two."
"Couldn't you leave me a dollar or two before you go?" whined Peggy. "Me health is very poor, and I can't work, and it's only a few pennies the boy brings in."
"You're better off than I am," said Lyman curtly, "for I am out of employment and I have no boy to bring me in pennies. I don't know but I'd better take Jack at once, and then you won't have to take care of him."
"I'll kape him," said the old woman hurriedly—for she had no wish to lose the income the match boy brought in, small as it was. "I'll kape him, for he's used to me life, and he's happier here."
"Just as you like, Peggy!" returned Lyman with a smile at the success of his stratagem. "I'd help you if I could, but I'm almost at the bottom of my purse as it is. I'll see you again in a day or two, and report progress."
"I've done a good day's work," reflected Lyman, as he picked his way downstairs, nearly slipping on a piece of orange peel on one of the steps. "It was a piece of good luck, my finding Jack so soon after seeing that St. Louis paper—but I must write an effective letter to my uncle."