“I am in a hurry, so I shall have to leave you.”

“Not just yet, young man.  Perhaps, as you don’t know where you are going, you may remember what your name is,” continued the man, good naturedly.

There was a temptation to give a false name; but is it was so strongly beaten into our hero that the truth is better than a falsehood, he held his peace.

“Excuse me, sir, but I can’t stop to talk now.”

“In a hurry?  Well, I dare say you are.  I suppose there is no doubt but you are Master Robert Bright.”

“Not the least, sir; I haven’t denied it yet, and I am not ashamed of my name,” replied Bobby, with a good deal of spirit.

“That’s honest; I like that.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” added Bobby.

“That’s cool for a rogue, any how.  You ought to thought of that afore.”

“I did.”

“And stole the money?”

“I didn’t.  I never stole a penny in my life.”

“Come, I like that.”

“It is the truth.”

“But they won’t believe it over to the Reform school,” laughed the man.

“They will one of these days, perhaps.”

“You are a smart youngster; but I don’t know as I can make five dollars any easier than by taking you back where you come from.”

“Yes, you can,” replied Bobby, promptly.

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“By letting me go.”

“Eh; you talk flush.  I suppose you mean to give me your note, payable when the Kennebec dries up.”

“Cash on the nail,” replied Bobby.  “You look like a man with a heart in your bosom.”—­Bobby stole this passage from “The Wayfarer.”

“I reckon I have.  The time hasn’t come yet when Sam Ray could see a fellow-creature in distress and not help him out.  But to help a thief off—­”

“We will argue that matter,” interposed Bobby.  “I can prove to you beyond a doubt that I am innocent of the crime charged upon me.”

“You don’t look like a bad boy, I must say.”

“But, Mr. Ray, I’m hungry; I haven’t eaten a mouthful since yesterday noon.”

“Thunder!  You don’t say so!” exclaimed Sam Ray.  “I never could bear to see a man hungry, much more a boy; so come along to my house and get something to eat, and we will talk about the other matter afterwards.”

Sam Ray took Bobby to the little old house in which he dwelt; and in a short time his wife, who expressed her sympathy for the little fugitive in the warmest terms, had placed an abundant repast upon the table.  Our hero did ample justice to it, and when he had finished he felt like a new creature.

“Now, Mr. Ray, let me tell you my story,” said Bobby.

“I don’t know as it’s any use.  Now you have eat my bread and butter, I don’t feel like being mean to you.  If any body else wants to carry you back, they may; I won’t.”

“But you shall hear me;” and Bobby proceeded to deliver his “plain, unvarnished tale.”