out."

"Haven't you got anything except what you earn?" asked Dick.

"No," said Tom, "not now. Mother used to earn three or four dollars
a week; but she can't do nothin' now, and my little sister and
brother are too young."

Dick had quick sympathies. He had been so poor himself, and
obliged to submit to so many privations that he knew from personal
experience how hard it was. Tom Wilkins he knew as an excellent boy
who never squandered his money, but faithfully carried it home to
his mother. In the days of his own extravagance and shiftlessness
he had once or twice asked Tom to accompany him to the Old Bowery
or Tony Pastor's, but Tom had always steadily refused.

"I'm sorry for you, Tom," he said. "How much do you owe for rent?"

"Two weeks now," said Tom.

"How much is it a week?"

"Two dollars a week--that makes four."

"Have you got anything towards it?"

"No; I've had to spend all my money for food for mother and the rest
of us. I've had pretty hard work to do that. I don't know what we'll
do. I haven't any place to go to, and I'm afraid mother'll get cold
in her arm."

"Can't you borrow the money somewhere?" asked Dick.

Tom shook his head despondingly.

"All the people I know are as poor as I am," said he. "They'd help
me if they could, but it's hard work for them to get along
themselves."

"I'll tell you what, Tom," said Dick, impulsively, "I'll stand your
friend."

"Have you got any money?" asked Tom, doubtfully.

"Got any money!" repeated Dick. "Don't you know that I run a bank on
my own account? How much is it you need?"

"Four dollars," said Tom. "If we don't pay that before to-morrow
night, out we go. You haven't got as much as that, have you?"

"Here are three dollars," said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book.
"I'll let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little more."

"You're a right down good fellow, Dick," said Tom; "but won't you
want it yourself?"

"Oh, I've got some more," said Dick.

"Maybe I'll never be able to pay you."

"S'pose you don't," said Dick; "I guess I won't fail."

"I won't forget it, Dick. I hope I'll be able to do somethin' for
you sometime."

"All right," said Dick. "I'd ought to help you. I haven't got no
mother to look out for. I wish I had."

There was a tinge of sadness in his tone, as he pronounced the last
four words; but Dick's temperament was sanguine, and he never gave
way to unavailing sadness. Accordingly he began to whistle as he
t