Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many difficulties. This story will please the very large class of boys who regard Mr. Alger as a favorite author.
ething till then. There's Mrs. Mack up-stairs. She has plenty of money, though she lives in a poor way."
"There isn't much hope there, Mark. She feels poorer than I do, though I am told she has five thousand dollars out at interest."
"Never mind. I am going to try her."
"Eat your supper first."
"So I will. I shall need all the strength I can get from a good meal to confront her."
Half an hour later Mark went up-stairs and tapped at the door of the rooms above his mother's.
"Come in!" said a feeble quavering voice.
Mark opened the door and entered. In a rocking chair sat, or rather crouched, a little old woman, her face seamed and wrinkled. She had taken a comforter from the bed and wrapped it around her to keep her warm, for it was a chilly day, and there was no fire in her little stove.
"Good evening, Mrs. Mack," said Mark. "How do you feel?"
"It's a cold day," groaned the old lady. "I--I feel very uncomfortable."
"Why don't you have a fir