"Wooden legs, eh! That's the plan, is it? Five dollars! Tell this doctor to mind his own business. I know a man—that is, he owes me— that is, he will owe me—a bill, and I'll get the legs out of him— see if I don't. I'll"—grumbling. "Well, I'm going. I don't find your story very entertaining. It's lucky I'm forgetful: shan't know anything about it to-morrow. Good-day, Miss Howard. Don't make a fool of yourself more than you can help." He caught his cane and was crossing the room when he saw the bill he had first taken from his pocket and forgotten lying on the floor. "Pretty way to use good money," he said, with a sneer, pointing to it. "With all your teaching business, you'll never get rich that way, Miss Howard." [Illustration: MARION AND THE CRIPPLED BOY. Page 207] "I saw that bill drop from your hand, sir." Marion laughed till all her dimples came into play. "But you can't have it," she insisted, as she saw his look of disappointment at being found out. "You've forfeited the right to it, and I shall add it to my fund for Neddy." "Pretty sharp practice that," he grumbled, looking intensely relieved. "Well, good-day to you." The next time Marion went to the hospital a singular circumstance occurred,—a circumstance which unravelled for her quite a mystery. She inquired for Neddy Carter, and was allowed to proceed at once to the convalescent ward. The boy was sitting in a low chair, which he had learned to wheel about with great rapidity. As soon as he saw her, his face brightened, and before he could reach her side he shouted,— "Miss Howard! Miss Howard! Mr. Regy's been here!" "And he's such a funny man," said one of the older boys. "I wish I had seen him," was Marion's answer. "What did he come for?" "To see me. He was awful cross at first, and scolded me for getting under the wheel like sixty; but I know him, and he's real good for all that; and I like him; and when I told him I didn't get under the wheel on purpose he gave me this," pulling a silver dollar from his pocket. "Will you please take it to help buy my wooden legs?" "No, indeed; those will be ready when the doctor says you can wear them." "Mr. Regy says I'm to be a printer," continued the boy, fixing his large brown eyes on hers; "and I'm to go to school at the Five Points, and learn to read and spell, and by-and-by, he says, there's no knowing but I may be a great man, and print newspapers." Marion started. This was Mr. Lambert's plan. Had he told Mr. Regy of it? "How does Mr. Regy look?" This inquiry was addressed to one of the nurses, who was passing. "Very oddly," she replied, laughing. "He's about fifty or sixty years old, very gray hair, which he wears long, floating over his shoulders." Marion laughed too as she said, "I've often heard of him, but I never saw him." Mr. Lambert was over sixty; but his hair, naturally light, had not turned gray, and was cut short to his head.