“How dare you!” cried Marion in a frightened voice. “Let me pass at once, sir, or I will call a policeman.” The fellow drew back and Marion darted past him like a flash. “Where in the world have I seen him?” she muttered to herself. “There’s something familiar about him, and yet I can’t place him.” CHAPTER IX. THE GIRLS LOSE A FRIEND. When Marion returned to her room she found Bert and Dollie chatting merrily. “Oh, Marion, what do you think? Poor Bert was almost arrested last night. The dress you loaned him came near being the death of him,” cried Dollie, gayly. Marion looked at Bert with a questioning glance. “A ‘cop’ followed me two blocks,” he said, with a grin, “but I took to my heels and he was too fat to catch me.” “Oh, my goodness,” cried Marion, with a burst of laughter. “How you must have looked, Bert. I wish I could have seen you. I can just imagine Miss Ray’s long dress getting over the ground at the speed you would carry it.” “And with a big, fat policeman in hot pursuit,” cried Dollie; “but he didn’t catch you, and that’s the best of it. It must, have surprised him to see a woman such a good runner.” “He knew I was a man all right,” said Bert, “and I guess he would recommend me as a first-class ‘sprinter.’ Well, after I had eluded him, I went into a little ‘junk-shop’ on First avenue, and bought a cap and jacket; of course they were pretty cheap ones, but I was glad to get them. I was mighty sick of masquerading.” “But didn’t they know your voice was not a woman’s where you bought the things?” broke in Dollie, excitedly. “Oh, that Jew wouldn’t have cared if I had been a dime museum freak. All he wanted was my money. He didn’t ask any questions.” “And what then?” asked Marion, who was very much interested. “Then I sneaked into an alley and made a ‘lightning change,’” said Bert, laughing, “and I’ve got your swell clothes, Marion, all carefully done up in a bundle.” “And you went to the little boarding-house?” asked Marion, again. “Sure,” said Bert, “and I’ve got a receipt for a week’s board in advance in my pocket. Now if I could only get a job I’d be all right,” he said, cheerfully, “unless the Poor Farm people keep on chasing me around the city.” “They are mighty interested in you, Bert,” said Dollie, slowly. “Other boys have run away and they did not chase them.” “That’s just it,” said Bert, quickly. “Matt Jenkins is scared to death. He’s lost so many boys that he’ll lose his job next, that is why he is trying so hard to find some of his truants.” Marion had put the bread and milk on the table, making a place for Bert, and as they all ate their frugal meal she glanced over the evening paper. “Here is a mention of our beloved aunt and uncle in the society columns,” she said, scornfully. “I wonder if they have ever repented of their hard-heartedness to their poor niece.” Bert and Dollie stared at her as she hastened to explain.