“Call this evening,” she said, “about half past seven o’clock.  My brother will be through dinner, and will not have gone out at that hour.”

“Thank you,” said Rodney gratefully.

“Here is another envelope which you can open at your leisure.  I cannot part from you without thanking you once more for returning my jewelry.”

“You have thanked me in a very practical way, Mrs. Harvey.”

“I hope my letter may lead to pleasant results for you.  If you ever come to Philadelphia call upon me at No. 1492 Walnut Street.”

“Thank you.”

As Rodney left the house he felt that his ill fortune had turned, and that a new prospect was opened up before him.  He stepped into the Windsor Hotel, and opened the envelope last given him.  It contained five five dollar bills.

To one of them was pinned a scrap of paper containing these words:  “I hope this money will be useful to you.  It is less than the reward I should have offered for the recovery of the jewels.”

Under the circumstances Rodney felt that he need not scruple to use the money.  He knew that he had rendered Mrs. Harvey a great service, and that she could well afford to pay him the sum which the envelopes contained.

He began to be sensible that he was hungry, not having eaten for some time.  He went into a restaurant on Sixth Avenue, and ordered a sirloin steak.  It was some time since he had indulged in anything beyond a common steak, and he greatly enjoyed the more luxurious meal.  He didn’t go back to selling papers, for he felt that it would hardly be consistent with the position of a classical teacher—­the post for which he was about to apply.

Half past seven found him at the door of Mr. John Sargent.  The house was of brown stone, high stoop, and four stories in height.  It was such a house as only a rich man could occupy.

He was ushered into the parlor and presently Mr. Sargent came in from the dining room.

“Are you Mr. Ropes?” he asked, looking at Rodney’s card.

It is not usual for newsboys to carry cards, but Rodney had some left over from his more prosperous days.

“Yes, sir.  I bring you a note of introduction from Mrs. Harvey.”

“Ah yes, my sister.  Let me see it.”

The note was of some length.  That is, it covered three pages of note paper.  Mr. Sargent read it attentively.

“My sister recommends you as tutor for my little son, Arthur,” he said, as he folded up the letter.

“Yes, sir; she suggested that I might perhaps suit you in that capacity.”

“She also says that you found and restored to her a valuable box of jewelry which she was careless enough to drop near Tiffany’s.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have a good deal of confidence in my sister’s good judgment.  She evidently regards you very favorably.”

“I am glad of that sir,”

“Will you tell me something of your qualifications?  Arthur is about to commence Latin.  He is not old enough for Greek.”