away, and your velvet attire is
certainly against you!"

There was something both whimsical and kindly in the doctor's
expression, and Towsley's confidence was won.

"Don't you s'pose I know that? Don't you s'pose I reckoned I was a
guy; and that all the fellows would laugh at me when they saw me? But
I couldn't help it, could I? That old black man took my own clothes
away and left these, and I couldn't go out without any, could I? She
was a nice old lady and her pie was good. Pretty good, I mean. But she
wasn't going to catch Towsley and adopt him, not if he could help
himself! No, siree! So I waited till everybody was asleep, then I lit
out."

"Smart boy! Tell me the whole story; from start to finish."

"Say, you tell me, first. Was I half dead in the snow? Did you find me
and fetch me here, like I heard them say? 'Cause if you did, I--I--I'd
like to do something back for you, yourself."

"Oh! that's all right, my lad. You'll have a chance. Don't fear."

"What do you mean, sir? What can I do?" asked Towsley eagerly.

"Did you ever hear, as you went along the street, somebody start
humming or whistling a tune? any kind of a tune, but a catchy one the
best. In a little while you'll hear another person pick it up and hum
or whistle, just the same way; so on, till nobody knows how many have
caught and heard the wandering melody and passed it onward through a
crowd. Did you ever notice anything like that?"

"Heaps of times. I've done it myself. Started it or picked it up,
either."

"Well, that's like kindness. Pick it up, pass it along. Let everybody
who hears it, catch on; understand? So, that's what I mean. You may
never have a chance to do anything especially for me--and you may have
dozens; but that doesn't matter. Keep it moving. The first time you
have an opportunity to be decent to somebody else, why--just be
decent, and say to yourself: 'That's because the doctor picked me out
of a snow-drift.' The Lord will keep the account all straight, and
settle it in His own good time. We don't have to worry about that
part, fortunately; else our spiritual book-keeping would get sadly
mixed."

They were both silent for a brief while, and the words made a deep
impression upon Towsley's heart; a warm and gentle heart at all times,
though not always a wise one in its judgments.

"Well, my boy. I'm waiting for your story, and I'm a pretty busy man.
Along about time for giving out the papers you wouldn't care to be