it for my mother's sake. When you want anything
done just call on Tom Wilkins."

"All right. Next week, if your mother doesn't get better, I'll give
you some more."

Tom thanked our hero very gratefully, and Dick walked away,
feeling the self-approval which always accompanies a generous and
disinterested action. He was generous by nature, and, before
the period at which he is introduced to the reader's notice, he
frequently treated his friends to cigars and oyster-stews. Sometimes
he invited them to accompany him to the theatre at his expense. But
he never derived from these acts of liberality the same degree of
satisfaction as from this timely gift to Tom Wilkins. He felt that
his money was well bestowed, and would save an entire family from
privation and discomfort. Five dollars would, to be sure, make
something of a difference in the mount of his savings. It was more
than he was able to save up in a week. But Dick felt fully repaid
for what he had done, and he felt prepared to give as much more,
if Tom's mother should continue to be sick, and should appear to
him to need it.

Besides all this, Dick felt a justifiable pride in his financial
ability to afford so handsome a gift. A year before, however much
he might have desired to give, it would have been quite out of his
power to give five dollars. His cash balance never reached that
amount. It was seldom, indeed, that it equalled one dollar. In
more ways than one Dick was beginning to reap the advantage of his
self-denial and judicious economy.

It will be remembered that when Mr. Whitney at parting with Dick
presented him with five dollars, he told him that he might repay it
to some other boy who was struggling upward. Dick thought of this,
and it occurred to him that after all he was only paying up an old
debt.

When Fosdick came home in the evening, Dick announced his success
in recovering his lost money, and described the manner it had been
brought about.

"You're in luck," said Fosdick. "I guess we'd better not trust the
bureau-drawer again."

"I mean to carry my book round with me," said Dick.

"So shall I, as long as we stay at Mrs. Mooney's. I wish we were in
a better place."

"I must go down and tell her she needn't expect Travis back. Poor
chap, I pity him!"

Travis was never more seen in Mrs. Mooney's establishment. He was
owing that lady for a fortnight's rent of his room, which prevented
her feeling much compassion for him. The room was s