"Nothing," replied Tommy. "Move on." "I've nowhere to go to. I'm a stranger here, and----" "Go to the workhouse," interrupted the policeman. "I don't know where it is." "Then I ain't going to tell you. All I know is, if you don't get off my beat, I'll have to make you." With a weary sigh Tommy trudged on in the rapidly deepening snow. He was so tired that he scarcely could drag one leg after the other, and seeing a door standing half open, he determined to enter and throw himself on the mercy of the inmates. Over the door was a lamp, and on the door a brass plate, upon which was engraved, "Rev. C. Floyd, Academy for Young Gentlemen." In the hallway he met an elderly lady, who had no sooner seen him that she began to cry out at the top of her voice: "Thieves! murder! burglars! help!" A gentleman of clerical appearance came out of a room, and behind him were a dozen or more boys. These he waved back with his hand, saying: "No excitement, if you please, young gentlemen. Stay where you are." The boys hesitated on the threshold, looking over one another's shoulders, those in the rear standing on tiptoe. "Now, my dear," commenced the clerical-looking gentleman, who was the Rev. C. Floyd himself, "what is the matter?" "A stranger in the house," replied Mrs. Floyd. "Indeed!" The Rev. C. Floyd adjusted his spectacles, and looked curiously at Tommy. "My boy!" he exclaimed, "what do you want here at this hour of the evening?" "If you please, sir," replied Tommy, "I'm a stranger here. I'm lost, and I thought you might allow me to sleep somewhere till morning." "Have you no home?" "Not here. I'm from America, and only came up from Liverpool to-day." "Dear me," said the Rev. C. Floyd. "That is a curious coincidence. My son only arrived yesterday. You say you are from America. Now we will test the accuracy of your story. Perhaps you are an impostor. If so, you will be turned out; if not, you shall receive shelter." "Thank you, sir," answered Tommy, peeping curiously at the young gentlemen on the threshold. "Mary, my dear," exclaimed the Rev. C. Floyd, "will you kindly call down our prodigal son, who, I have reason to believe, is smoking a pipe in his bedroom, contrary to my express orders." Mrs. Floyd, having recovered from her fright at seeing a stranger in the house, went upstairs, and presently returned with a young man. Tommy's eyes dilated with surprise. "Charley!" he exclaimed--"Wild Charley! He knows me, sir. We came over in the same ship together." The young man advanced with a smile, and held out his hand. "Glad to see you," he said; "I thought you had found a job in Liverpool."--This was said with an expressive wink.--"But how did you find me?" "Chance," replied Tommy. Rev. C. Floyd looked from one to the other. "Do I understand that you two were shipmates?" he asked; "and that you have met here quite accidentally?"