len, and the first thief suffered at the hands
of a more experienced thief.

The sun had been up nearly three hours the next morning before
Clarence Brown awoke. As he opened his eyes, his glance fell on Sam
still asleep, and the events of the evening previous came to his
mind.

"I must be up, and out of this," he thought, "before the young
greenhorn wakes up."

Being already dressed, with the exception of his coat, he had little
to do beyond rising. He crept out of the room on tiptoe, and, making
his way to a restaurant at a safe distance, sat down and ordered a
good breakfast at Sam's expense.

Meanwhile Sam slept on for half an hour more.

Finally he opened his eyes, and, oblivious of his changed
circumstances, was surprised that he had not been called earlier. But
a single glance about the shabby room recalled to his memory that he
was now beyond the deacon's jurisdiction.

"I am in New York," he reflected, with a thrill of joy. "But where is
Mr. Brown?"

He looked in vain for his companion, but no suspicion was excited in
his mind.

"He didn't want to wake me up," he thought. "I suppose he has gone to
his business."

He stretched himself, and lay a little longer. It was a pleasant
thought that there was no stern taskmaster to force him up. He might
lie as long as he wanted to, till noon, if he chose. Perhaps he might
have chosen, but the claims of a healthy appetite asserted themselves,
and Sam sprang out of bed.

"I'll have a good breakfast," he said to himself, "and then I must
look around and see if I can't find something to do; my money will
soon be out."

It was natural that he should have felt for his money, at that moment,
but he did not. No suspicion of Mr. Brown's integrity had entered his
mind. You see Sam was very unsophisticated at that time, and, though
he had himself committed a theft, he did not suspect the honesty of
others.

"I suppose I shall have to go without thanking Mr. Brown, as he don't
seem to be here," he reflected. "Perhaps I shall see him somewhere
about the streets. I've saved a dollar anyway, or at least
seventy-five cents," he added, thinking of the quarter he had lent his
hospitable entertainer the evening before. "Perhaps he'll let me sleep
here again to-night. It'll be a help to me, as long as I haven't got
anything to do yet."

Still Sam did not feel for his money, and was happily unconscious of
his loss.

He opened his door, and found his way downstairs into