“I never dreamed that it would be such fun to be dead,” he said, gayly, “but now I can breathe easy. Matt won’t be trying to chase a deader. And I’ve got a job, too,” he said, delightedly. “Eight dollars a week as clerk in a grocery store!” “We’ll come and buy our potatoes and other things of you,” laughed Dollie; “that is, if Marion gets a steady place to sing for those people, and as soon as I get real well I’ll keep house for both of you.” “That would be glorious,” said Bert, “but I’m afraid it won’t work. There’s a young man whom I know who might object, Miss Dollie.” Dollie blushed as she was reminded so broadly of her sweetheart, and Marion explained to Bert the whole situation. “He’s a noble fellow! I don’t much care what he did!” cried Bert in admiration; “I’d steal, too, if it was to keep you girls from starving, and I think a man is a cad who says he wouldn’t!” “Oh, Bert! That isn’t right!” said Marion, firmly. “Of course, we forgive him, but, oh, he shouldn’t have done it! It is awful to steal from any motive! I shall give him every penny of my hundred dollars.” Dollie drew a long breath, and the tears sprang to her eyes. “We have not seen him since—since we became suspicious,” she said, very hesitatingly. “Poor fellow! He must be wretched, and yet he knows that we forgive him!” CHAPTER XIV. MARION SINGS IN A CONCERT HALL. Marion was on hand promptly at ten o’clock, and as Otto Vondergrift saw the beautiful face and figure in the broad light of day he chuckled a little over his cleverness in offering her so much money. “She’ll stick to me now, whereas she might have bolted after the first night if I had offered her less,” he repeated to his friend, the song writer, while Marion waited. “She is certainly very beautiful,” said Marcus Rosen, as he peered at Marion through the half-open door of a private office. “You mark my words, Rosen,” said Vondergrift again, “the manager of our rival hall across the way will try to get her away from me just the minute he hears her, but he’s not likely to offer her any more than she’s getting. Oh, I know the world and the people in it far better than you do, my friend! I’m a business man, while you are an artist.” “I guess you are right,” was the drawling answer, “but I flatter myself that I know you pretty well, my dear Otto, and I’m willing to bet that outside of her making money for you, you’ve got designs on the little rustic.” “Well, if I have, then I am all right about the hundred,” was the laughing answer, “for that girl is too shy to be tempted by a bottle of wine and a supper.” “Oh, well, it’s none of my business, any way,” said the artist again; “but come, I’m dying to hear her sing. Let’s take her right into the hall—it’s perfectly empty.” When Marcus Rosen began playing the prelude to the song which Marion was expected to sing, the young girl’s timidity disappeared like magic.