Part 40 (1/2)
”You may give me five more.”
Paul drew a five-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to Julius.
”By the way, Julius,” he said ”where do you expect to sleep to-night?”
”In the lodgin' house.”
”Come up and stop with me. We can find room for you. Besides, my mother will give you a good supper.”
”You are very kind to me, Paul,” said Julius, gratefully.
”I ought to be. You did us all a great service. You must stay with us till it is time for you to go out West.”
Julius made some faint objections, out of bashfulness; but he was so pleasantly received by Mrs. Hoffman, and treated with so much kindness, that he came to feel quite at home, and needed no urging after the first night. Jimmy asked him a mult.i.tude of questions about the burglars, how they looked and how they lived, to which Julius answered patiently.
”When you are out West, you must write to us how you are getting along, Julius,” said Mrs. Hoffman, kindly.
Julius blushed, and did not answer. He seemed much embarra.s.sed.
”Won't you?” asked Jimmy.
”I don't know how to write!” said Julius at last, feeling suddenly ashamed of his ignorance.
”Such a big boy as you can't write?” said Jimmy, in amazement.
”There is plenty of time to learn,” said Paul, cheerfully. ”Julius has had no chance to learn yet, but after he gets to the West he will make it up.”
The mortification which Julius felt at his ignorance made him determine to study hard whenever he could. He felt that if he wanted to occupy a respectable position in society, he must, at least, know how to read and write.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE POOR ARTIST.
A week later Julius started for the West with a company of boys who went out under the auspices of the Children's Aid Society. His adventures out West will make the subject of another volume.
On the day succeeding his departure Paul was at his stand, when his attention was drawn to a man of respectable appearance, but poorly clad, and thin and emaciated, who, after a little hesitation, accosted a gentleman who was pa.s.sing, in these words: ”Sir, I hope you will excuse my liberty in addressing you, but I have been sick, and am without money. Can you spare me a trifle?”
”I never give to street beggars,” said the gentleman, coldly.
The applicant shrank back abashed, and a look of pain and mortification overspread his features. Paul noticed it, and his heart was filled with compa.s.sion. He saw that the man was not a common street beggar; that, except under the pressure of necessity, he would not have asked help. Stepping up to him as he was slowly moving away, Paul said, gently: ”Can I a.s.sist you in any way, sir?”
The other turned at the words.
”I am in great need of help,” he said. ”I am without money, and I have a little daughter at home who wants bread.”
As he said this he came near breaking down.
”Let me help you,” said Paul; and he drew a dollar from his pocket and pa.s.sed it to the applicant.
”A thousand thanks for your generous kindness!” said the stranger, gratefully; ”but”--and here he glanced at Paul's humble place of business--”can you spare this money?”