Having
taken possession of his rooms he is, after a week's time, suddenly
called by business to Chicago or St. Louis; he will settle the little
balance due on his return. He accordingly departs, but not to St.
Louis, or Chicago--oh, dear, no. He understands a trick worth two of
that. He simply hires a little room in a retired street at the lowest
possible rent, and there resides. His wife and children--two boys, one
aged ten, the other twelve, and both very "smart"--take him his meals
daily, in a basket, in their pocket, or by other means, as the case may
be, the meals being furnished unwittingly by the victimized landlady
with whom his family are sojourning. But more than meals are taken from
the boarding house. The baggage is also taken away, piece after piece,
secretly, and conveyed to the little room where the "head and father"
of this interesting family resides. So one day, after an unaccountable
absence of Dr. Thorne from home, and after the receipt by his wife of
daily letters from her husband, but no money, though money is always
expected by the next mail, the whole family disappear, one by one, and
never return. The landlady congratulates herself upon the fact that she
retains at least the baggage--but alas, upon an examination she finds
that nothing is left her in lieu of the month's board for three people
and a week's board for the fourth, saving some empty trunks.
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