"That young man in the third box on the left, my dear, is young Mr. Jack Hardluck. He's so keen that I don't even dare think what I'm going to do for fear he'll find it out!" "If that's the case, papa," said Miss Moneypenny, blushing, "the best thing to do is to take him into the family. Don't you think you'd better--" The girl hung her head shyly. "Better what, my dear?" asked the old billionaire, kindly. "Give him to me for a Christmas present?" she answered. "I think I could get to like him very, very much." And, indeed, that is how it came to be that in due course of time the young financier became the son-in-law of one of the financial powers of the world. As for the invisible cloak, Jack wears it now only to travel _incog._, which for a multi-millionaire is sometimes convenient. Incidentally and in conclusion, let me add that Mike Brannigan, once the janitor of the Redmere, is now the owner of that handsome apartment-house, having received the title-deeds through the mails from some anonymous benefactor. "Who the divvle sint it, I dinnaw!" he said. "Nor what for he done it, nayther. I ain't never done nothin' to injure nobody!" VI THE RETURN OF ALADDIN Night had fallen over the city, but the work in the little tailor shop on the Bowery still went on. The toiling widow of Mustafa, the incorporated valet of the Bachelors' Aid Society, who had died the winter before, leaving his family with nothing but a few debts and his ironing-board, was wearily struggling with the last batch of undarned socks received that morning from the association. She sighed deeply as she labored, for her fingers were sore with many stitches. "Heigho!" she murmured, sadly. "Why don't these bachelors get married and have this sort of thing done at home, I wonder? This is the ten-thousandth sock I have darned since Christmas, and as for the suspender buttons, the good Lord only knows how many of those I have sewed on. There ought to be a law compelling men to marry on penalty of having to do their own mending." Poor woman! In the weariness of her spirit she little dreamed that she was growing petulant with her bread and butter. Suddenly she heard the door of the little shop without open, and her son Aladdin entered, a great, buoyant lad of twenty, cheerful of spirit and a good deal of a giant physically. "Well, Worthless," she said, with an affectionate glance into his fine eyes, "where have you been all day?" "Looking for work, mother, as usual," said the young man, throwing a small package on the table. "And you?" "The same old drudgery, dear," she replied, with a sigh. "Did you have any luck?" "No, mother dear, not a bit," replied Aladdin. "Do you mean to tell me that in all this great city there is no work of any kind that a hale, hearty, hungry boy like you can get to do?" she demanded.