Dan The Newsboy 31

Dan The Newsboy 31

"Good-evening, Miss Carroll," said Dan. "Are you engaged for the galop?"

 

Miss Carroll shook her head.

 

"Then will you give me the pleasure?"

 

In a minute Dan was whirling round the room with the young lady, greatly

to Tom's amazement, for Edith Carroll was from a family of high social

standing, living on Murray Hill.

 

"How in the duse does Dan Mordaunt know that girl?" Tom asked himself,

with a frown. "They spoke as if they were acquainted."

 

To Tom's further disappointment Dan danced as gracefully in the galop as

in the quadrille.

 

When the galop was over, Dan promenaded with another young lady, whose

acquaintance he had made at dancing-school, and altogether seemed as

much at his ease as if he had been attending parties all his life.

 

Tom managed to obtain Edith Carroll as a partner.

 

"I didn't know you were acquainted with Dan Mordaunt," he said.

 

"Oh, yes, I know him very well. Doesn't he dance charmingly?"

 

"Humph!" said Tom, not very well pleased. "I thought him rather

awkward."

 

"How can you say so, Mr. Carver? Why I think he dances _beautifully_,

and so do all the girls."

 

"How do the girls know how he dances?"

 

"Why he goes to our dancing-school. The professor says he is his best

pupil. We all like to dance with him."

 

"That's fortunate for him," said Tom, with a sneer. "Perhaps he may

become a dancing-master in time."

 

"He would make a good one, but I don't think he's very likely to do

that."

 

"It would be a good thing for him. He is poor, you know."

 

"No, I don't. I am sure he dresses well. He is as well-dressed as any

young gentleman here."

 

This was true, and Tom resented it. He felt that Dan had no right to

dress well.

 

"He ought not to spend so much money on dress when he has his mother to

support," he said, provoked.

 

"It seems to me you take a great deal of interest in Mr. Mordaunt," said

the young beauty, pointedly.

 

"Oh, no; he can do as he likes for all me, but, of course, when a boy

in his position dresses as if he were rich one can't help noticing it."

 

"I am sure he can't be very poor, or he could not attend Dodworth's

dancing-school. At any rate I like to dance with him, and I don't care

whether he's poor or rich."

 

Presently Tom saw Dan dancing the polka with Julia Rogers, and with the

same grace that he had exhibited in the other dances.

 

He felt jealous, for he fancied himself a favorite with Julia, because

their families being intimate, he saw a good deal of her.

 

On the whole Tom was not enjoying the party. He did succeed, however, in

obtaining the privilege of escorting Julia to supper.

 

Just in front of him was Dan, escorting a young lady from Fifth avenue.

 

"Mr. Mordaunt appears to be enjoying himself," said Julia Rogers.

 

"Yes, he has plenty of cheek," muttered Tom.

 

"Excuse me, Tom, but do you think such __EXPRESSION__s suitable for such an

occasion as this?"

 

"I am sorry you don't like it, but I never saw a more forward or

presuming fellow than this Dan Mordaunt."

 

"I beg you to keep your opinion to yourself," said Julia Rogers, with

dignity. "I find he is a great favorite with all the young ladies here.

I had no idea he knew so many of them."

 

Tom gave it up. It seemed to him that all the girls were infatuated with

a common newsboy, while his vanity was hurt by finding himself quite

distanced in the race.

 

About twelve o'clock the two boys met in the dressing-room.

 

"You seemed to enjoy yourself," said Tom, coldly.

 

"Yes, thanks to your kind attentions," answered Dan, with a smile. "It

is pleasant to meet old friends, you know. By the way, I suppose we

shall meet at Miss Carroll's party."

 

"Are _you_ to be invited?" asked Tom, in astonishment.

 

"So the young lady tells me," answered Dan, smiling.

 

"I suppose _you'll_ be giving a fashionable party next," said Tom, with

a sneer.

 

"Consider yourself invited if I do. Good-night, and pleasant dreams."

 

But Dan's dreams were by no means sweet that night.

 

When he reached home, it was to hear of a great and startling

misfortune.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXIX.

 

A NE'ER DO WELL.

 

 

At half-past twelve Dan ascended the stairs to his mother's room. He had

promised to come in and tell her how he had enjoyed himself at the

party. He was in excellent spirits on account of the flattering

attentions he had received. It was in this frame of mind that he opened

the door. What was his surprise, even consternation, when his mother

advanced to meet him with tearful eyes and an __EXPRESSION__ of distress.

 

"Oh, Dan, I am so glad you have got home!" she ejaculated.

 

"What is the matter, mother? Are you sick?" asked Dan.

 

"I am quite well, Dan; but Althea----"

 

And Mrs. Mordaunt burst into tears.

 

"What has happened to Althea? Is she sick?" asked Dan, alarmed.

 

"We have lost her, Dan."

 

"Lost her! You don't mean she is----"

 

He couldn't finish the sentence, but his mother divined what he meant.

 

"Not dead, thank God!" she said, "but she has disappeared--she has been

stolen."

 

"You don't mean it, mother!" exclaimed Dan, startled and grieved. "Tell

me about it."

 

Mrs. Mordaunt told what she knew, but that related only to the

particulars of the abduction. We are in a position to tell the reader

more, but it will be necessary to go back for a month, and transfer the

scene to another continent.

 

In a spacious and handsomely furnished apartment at the West End of

London sat the lady who had placed Althea in charge of the Mordaunts.

She was deep in thought, and that not of an agreeable nature.

 

"I fear," she said to herself, "that trouble awaits me. John Hartley,

whom I supposed to be in California, is certainly in London. I cannot be

mistaken in his face, and I certainly saw him in Hyde Park to-day. Did

he see me? I don't know, but I fear he did. If so, he will not long

delay in making his appearance. Then I shall be persecuted, but I must

be firm. He shall not learn through me where Althea is. He is her

father, it is true, but he has forfeited all claim to her guardianship.

A confirmed gambler and drunkard, he would soon waste her fortune,

bequeathed her by her poor mother. He can have no possible claim to it;

for, apart from his having had no hand in leaving it to her, he was

divorced from my poor sister before her death."

 

At this point there was a knock at the door of the room.

 

"Come in," said the lady.

 

There entered a young servant-maid, who courtesied, and said:

 

"Mrs. Vernon, there is a gentleman who wishes to see you."

 

"Can it be Hartley?" thought the lady, with quick suspicion.

 

"Did he give his name?" she asked.

 

"Yes, mum; he said his name was Bancroft."