“If it is at your expense, yes.”

“That wouldn’t be fair.  You have more money than I.”

“Yes, and I mean to keep it myself.  You have set me the example.”

“Come, Philip, you are not angry at my refusing you a loan?”

“No; I think you were sensible.  I shall follow your example.  I will bid you good night.  I seem to be in luck, and will try my fortune at the gaming table.”

“I will go with you.”

“No; I would prefer to go alone.”

“That fellow is unreasonable,” muttered Jasper, as he strode off, discontented.  “Did he expect I would divide my salary with him?”

Philip Carton, after he parted company with Jasper, walked back to where Rodney was still selling papers.

“Give me a paper,” he said.

“Which will you have?”

“I am not particular.  Give me the first that comes handy.  Ah, the Evening Sun will do.”

He took the paper and put a quarter into Rodney’s hand.

As he was walking away Rodney called out, “Stop, here’s your change,”

“Never mind,” said Philip with a wave of the hand.

“Thank you,” said Rodney gratefully, for twenty five cents was no trifle to him at this time.

“That ought to bring me luck,” soliloquized Philip Carton as he walked on.  “It isn’t often I do a good deed.  It was all the money I had besides the five dollar bill, and I am sure the news boy will make better use of it than I would.”

“That was the young man that was walking with Jasper,” reflected Rodney.  “Well, he is certainly a better fellow than he.  Thanks to this quarter, I shall have made eighty cents today, and still have half a dozen papers.  That is encouraging.”

Several days passed that could not be considered lucky.  Rodney’s average profits were only about fifty cent a day, and that was barely sufficient to buy his meals.  It left him nothing to put towards paying room rent.

He began to consider whether he would not be compelled to pawn some article from his wardrobe, for he was well supplied with clothing, when he had a stroke of luck.

On Fifteenth Street, by the side of Tiffany’s great jewelry store, he picked up a square box neatly done up in thin paper.  Opening it, he was dazzled by the gleam of diamonds.

The contents were a diamond necklace and pin, which, even to Rodney’s inexperienced eyes, seemed to be of great value.

“Some one must have dropped them in coming from the jewelry store,” he reflected.  “Who can it be?”

He had not far to seek.  There was a card inside on which was engraved: 

MRS. ELIZA HARVEY,

with an address on Fifth Avenue.

Passing through to Fifth Avenue Rodney began to scan the numbers on the nearest houses.  He judged that Mrs. Harvey must live considerably farther up the Avenue, in the direction of Central Park.