Marion grabbed Bert’s jacket and cap and tucked them under the mattress, then she gave him some old gloves and drew his veil a little tighter. “Take short steps and hold your dress up, just a little,” she whispered, “now, then, sum up all your courage and pass them without a look. I’ll detain them long enough to give you the start of them.” Marion opened the door safely, and Bert slipped out into the hall. There were two men and the landlady on the flight before him. “He’d come here, sure, if the gals air here,” said the well known voice of Matt Jenkins, the keeper of the Poor Farm. “Waal, the gals air here all right,” was Silas Johnson’s answer, “an’ I allow they know where Bert is right enough. The question is, kin we make ’em tell us?” “And what will you do with the boy if you catch him?” asked the landlady, anxiously. “Take him back tew the Poor Farm, where he belongs,” said Matt Jenkins. “An’ yew bet I’ll lick him good fer puttin’ me tew all this trouble.” “Oh, you will, will you?” thought Bert, as he started down the stairs. Marion walked out to the banisters and leaned over calmly. “Some one looking for me, Mrs. Dean?” she called out, pleasantly. “If it is, they can come right up; my sister and I will be glad to see them.” The landlady turned back with a sigh of relief. She was stout and heavy and climbing stairs was not to her fancy. “I hain’t so sure about yew’r bein’ glad tew see us, Marion Marlowe,” said Matt Jenkins, dryly. As he spoke he looked up at the girl, and at that moment Bert passed him. “You are mistaken, Mr. Jenkins, I shall be delighted,” said Marion, smiling. “And Silas, too, why, this is really a great pleasure.” “Then yew’r sentiments haz changed sense I saw yew last,” said Matt Jenkins, roaring. “Yew must ter larn’t manners sense yew come tew ther city.” “Oh, I’ve learned lots of things besides manners,” said Marion, gayly, “but walk right in to our humble room. I assure you I am really and truly very glad to see you.” Dollie got up smilingly, and greeted the two. “Our room is not very large,” said Marion, politely, “but you can have the chair, and I will sit on the bed.” She winked at Dollie as she seated herself firmly. If they found Bert’s cap and jacket it would be with some difficulty. CHAPTER VII. MARION PROVES HERSELF A HEROINE. “An hour and a half! Well, that isn’t so bad. Bert must have had time to get a boarding place by this time.” Marion Marlowe glanced up at the tiny nickel clock as she spoke, and both she and her sister laughed a little nervously. “I never talked to Silas so much in all my life,” said Dollie, merrily. “But I kept thinking of Bert, and just went on talking and talking.” “And how polite I was to that brute, Matt Jenkins,” laughed Marion. “Oh, well, we had to do it to save poor Bert. He’s well worth the sacrifice we made for him, Dollie.” “I should say so,” said Dollie, “but it is awfully late, Marion, and I’m tired and sleepy.”