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16 of speaking warranted his hope. “I am eighteen. I guess I’m still a boy. My name is Mark Walpole. I came to this town because I heard that there was a chance here for employment, but the place I was after is filled. I’ve had rather a setback starting out in life. My mother has been dead some years. There was a fire. It destroyed our house, and my father was—he died in it. It seems he left nothing behind him; we had been considered rather well-to-do. I’m afraid his step-brother got the best of him. He showed he hated me, and that may have been because he had wronged us. People thought so. He held the land where the house had been, and there wasn’t any money. I had to start out; of course I wanted to. I couldn’t have breathed in that town—this all happened in Massachusetts. So I’m seeking my fortune. This little girl seems to be in the rescue line to-day. She heard me ask for work; she was struggling along with this dog. So she annexed me, too! She seemed to think she knew some one who was sighing for a chance to start me. I didn’t want to come here with her, but we couldn’t seem to help it—neither the dog nor I!” The young fellow stopped and smiled at Florimel, with a glance at the others.