M R. KENYON shrugged his shoulders, and smiled, when he read Oliver\'s letter.

"So the young cub is showing his claws, is he?" he said to himself. "I fancy he will find it harder to punish me than he supposes. Where will he get the power? Money is power, and I have the money." "Yes," he continued, his sallow face lighting up with exultation, "I have played boldly for it, and it is mine! Who shall dispute my claim? My wife is in a mad-house, and likely to remain there, and now Oliver is disposed of. I wish he would go to sea, and never be heard of again. But at any rate I am pretty safe so far as he is concerned."

Oliver did not expect to terrify Mr. Kenyon with his threats. He, too, felt his present want of power; but he was young, and he could wait. Indeed, the question of punishing his step-father was not the one that first demanded his attention. He had but twenty dollars in the world, and no expectations. He must find work of some kind, and that soon. Now, unluckily for Oliver, the times were hard. There were thousands out of employment, and fifty applications where there was one vacancy. Day after day he answered advertisements without effect. Only once he had a favorable answer. This was in a great dry-goods house.

"Yes," said the superintendent, who was pleased with his appearance and manners, "we will take you, if you like to come."

Oliver brightened up. His sky seemed to be clearing.

"Perhaps you will object to the pay we give," said the superintendent.

"I don\'t expect much," said our hero, who thought he would accept for the present, if he were only offered six dollars.

"We will pay you two dollars a week for the first six months."

"Two dollars a week!" exclaimed Oliver in dismay.

"For the first six months. Then we will raise you to four if you do well."

"Then I can\'t come," said Oliver despondently. "I shall have to live on my salary, and I couldn\'t possibly live on two dollars a week."

"I am sorry," said the superintendent; "but as we can get plenty of boys for two dollars, we cannot break our rule."

Oliver went out, rather indignant.

"No wonder boys are tempted to steal," he thought, "when employers are so mean."

It was getting rather serious for him. His money had been dwindling daily.

"John," he said to his room-mate one evening, "I must give up this room at the end of the week."

"Are you out of funds?"

"I have but fifty cents left in the world."

"I can\'t keep the room alone. When is our week up?"

"To-morrow evening."

"I will take my old room. I know it is still vacant. What will you do?"

"I don\'t know. I haven\'t money enough to take any room."

"I wish I had some money to lend you; I\'d do it in a minute," said John heartily.

"I know you would, John, but you have hard work scraping along yourself."

"I\'ll tell you what I can do. Come to my little room, and we\'ll take turns sleeping in the bed. It is only eighteen inches wide, or we could both occupy it at a time."

"I\'ll come round and sleep on the floor, John. I won\'t deprive you of your bed. I wish I knew what to do."

"Perhaps Mr. Bond would take you back."

"No, he wouldn\'t. I am convinced that there was a conspiracy to get rid of me. I might try my hand at selling papers."

"You are too much of a gentleman to go into the street with the ragged street boys."

"My gentility won\'t supply me with board and lodging. I mustn\'t think of that."

"Something may turn up for you to-morrow, Oliver."

"It won\'t do to depend on that. If I can turn up something, that will be more to the purpose. However, this is our last night in this room, and I won\'t worry myself into a sleepless night. I will get my money\'s worth out of the bed."

Oliver was not given to dismal forebodings or to anticipating trouble, though he certainly might have been excused for feeling depressed under present circumstances. He slept soundly, and went out in the morning, active and alert.

He took a cheap breakfast............