there's one thing in the way--I ain't got no eddication." "You can read and write, can't you, Dodger?" "Yes; I can read pretty well, but I can't write much." "I will teach you in the evenings, when we are both at leisure." "Will you?" asked the boy, with a glad smile. "You're very kind--I'd like a teacher like you." "Then it's a bargain, Dodger," and Florence's face for the first time lost its sad look, as she saw an opportunity of helping one who had befriended her. "But you must promise to study faithfully." "That I will. If I don't, I'll give you leave to lick me." "I shan't forget that," said Florence, amused. "I will buy a ruler of good hard wood, and then you must look out. But, tell me, where have you lived hitherto?" "I don't like to tell you, Miss Florence. I've lived ever since I was a kid with a man named Tim Bolton. He keeps a saloon on the Bowery, near Houston Street. It's a tough place, I tell you. I've got a bed in one corner--it's tucked away in a closet in the day." "I suppose it is a drinking saloon?" "Yes, that's what it is." "And kept open very late?" "Pretty much all night." "Is this Tim Bolton any relation of yours?" "He says he's my father; but I don't believe it." "Have you always lived with him?" "Ever since I was a small kid." "Have you always lived in New York?" "No; I was out in Australia. Tim was out in the country part of the time, and part of the time he kept a saloon in Melbourne. There was thieves and burglars used to come into his place. I knew what they were, though they didn't think I did." "How terrible for a boy to be subjected to such influences."