mark remained in the bookstore on the same footing as before. he was not old enough to succeed to rowell's vacant place, but mr. baker, as a mark of his satisfaction with him, and partly also to compensate for the temporary suspicions which he had entertained of his honesty, advanced his wages a dollar a week. he therefore now received four dollars, which yielded him no little satisfaction, as it enabled him to pay a larger share of his expenses.

they were all seated in richard hunter's pleasant room in st. mark's place one evening, when dick said suddenly:—

"oh, by the way, fosdick, i forgot to tell you that i had a letter from mr. bates to-day."

"did you? what does he say?"

"i will read it to you."

richard drew the letter from the envelope, and read as follows:—

"my dear mr. hunter:—i have received your letter, reporting that you have as yet obtained no trace of my unfortunate grandson, john talbot. i thank you sincerely for your kind and persistent efforts. i fear that he may have left new york, possibly in the care of persons unfit to take charge of him. it is a great source of anxiety to me lest he should be suffering privation and bad treatment at this moment, when i, his grandfather, have abundance of worldly means, and have it in my power to rear him handsomely. i cannot help feeling that it is a fitting punishment for the cruel harshness with which i treated his mother. now i am amassing wealth but i have no one to leave it to. i feel that i have small object in living. yet i cannot give up the thought that my grandson is still living. i cannot help indulging the hope that some day, by the kind favor of providence, he may be given back to me.

"if it will not be too much trouble to you and mr. fosdick, i shall feel indebted if you will still continue on the watch for the lost boy. any expenses which you may incur, as i have already assured you, will be most cheerfully paid by your obliged friend and servant,

"hiram bates."

while richard was reading this letter, mark listened attentively. looking up, richard observed this.

"did you ever meet with a boy named john talbot, mark?" he inquired.

"no," said mark, "not john talbot."

"did you ever meet any boy named talbot? it is not certain that the name is john."

"talbot used to be my name," said mark.

"used to be your name!" exclaimed richard, in surprise. "i thought it was manton."

"some of the boys gave me that name, because there was a story came out in one of the story papers about mark manton. after a while i got to calling myself so, but my real name is mark talbot."

"it would be strange if he should turn out to be the right boy after all, dick," said fosdick. "where is the photograph? that will soon settle the question."

richard hunter opened his desk, and took out the card photograph which mr. bates had left with him.

"mark," he said, "did you ever see any one who looked like that picture?"

mark took the picture in his hand. no sooner did his eyes rest upon it than they filled with tears.

"that is my mother" he said. "where did you get it?"

"your mother! are you sure?"

"yes; i should know it anywhere, though it looks younger than she did."

"do you know what her name was, before she was married?"

"yes; she has told me often. it was irene bates."

"how strange!" exclaimed richard and fosdick together. "mark," continued richard, "i think you are the very boy i had been in search of for several months. i had succeeded without knowing it."

"please tell me all about it," said mark. "i don't understand."

"i have a great piece of good luck to announce to you, mark. your grandfather is a rich man, formerly in business in new york, but now a successful merchant in milwaukie. he has no child, no descendant except yourself. he has been anxiously seeking for you, intending to give you all the advantages which his wealth can procure."

"do you think i shall like him?" asked mark, timidly.

"yes; i think he will be very kind to you."

"but he was not kind to my mother. although he was rich, he let her suffer."

"he has repented of this, and will try to make up to you his neglect to your mother."

mark was still thoughtful. "if it had come sooner, my poor mother might still have been alive," he said.

"i think i had better telegraph to mr. bates to-morrow," said richard. "the news will be so welcome that i don't like to keep it back a single day."

"perhaps it will be better," said fosdick. "you will have to give up your ward, dick."

"yes; but as it will be for his good, i will not object."

the next morning the following message was flashed over the wires to milwaukie:—

"hiram bates.

"your grandson is found. he is well, and in my charge.

"richard hunter."

in the course of the forenoon, the following answer was received:—

"richard hunter.

"how can i thank you! i take the next train for new york.

"hiram bates."

on the afternoon succeeding, mr. bates entered richard's counting-room. he clasped his hand with fervor.

"mr. hunter," he said, "i do not know how to thank you. where is my boy?"

"i am just going up to the house," said richard. "if you will accompany me, you shall soon see him."

"i am impatient to hear all the particulars," said mr. bates. "remember, i know nothing as yet. i only received your telegram announcing his discovery. when did you find him?"

"that is the strangest part of it," said richard. "i found him sick just outside the office door several weeks since. i took him home, and when he recovered let him get a place in a bookstore; but, having become interested in him, i was unwilling to lose sight of him, and still kept him with me. all this while i was searching for your grandson, and had not the least idea that he was already found."

"how did you discover this at last?"

"by his recognition of his mother's photograph. it was lucky you thought of leaving it with me."

"is his name john?"

"he says his name is mark, but for his last name he had adopted a different one, or i should have made the discovery sooner."

"how did he make a living before you found him? poor boy!" said mr. bates, sighing, "i fear he must have suffered many privations."

"he was selling matches for some time,—what we call a match boy. he had suffered hardships, but i leave him to tell you his story himself."

"how does he feel about meeting me?" asked mr. bates.

"you are a stranger to him, and he naturally feels a little timid, but he will soon be reassured when he gets acquainted with you."

mark had already arrived. as they entered the room, mr. bates said with emotion, "is that he?"

"yes, sir."

"come here, mark," he said, in a tone which took away mark's apprehension. "do you know who i am?"

"are you my grandfather?"

"yes, i have come to take care of you, and to see that you suffer no more from poverty."

mr. bates stooped down and pressed a kiss upon the boy's forehead.

"i can see irene's look in his eyes," he said. "it is all the proof i need that he is my grandchild."

it was arranged that in three days, for he had some business to transact, he should go back to milwaukie carrying mark with him. he went round to mr. baker's store the next morning with his grandson and explained to him why he should be obliged to withdraw him from his employ.

"i am sorry to lose him," said mr. baker. "he is quick and attentive to his duties, and has given me excellent satisfaction; but i am glad of his good fortune."

"it gives me pleasure to hear so good an account of him," said mr. bates. "though he will be under no necessity of taking another situation, but will for several years devote himself to study, the same good qualities for which you give him credit will insure his satisfactory progress in school."