For two minutes Mr. Jennings seemed to be plunged in thought.  Then he turned and smiled encouragingly.

“You can come home with me,” he said, “and I will consider the matter.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Carl, gladly.

“I have got to make a call at the next house, not on business, though.  There is an old schoolmate lying there sick.  I am afraid he is rather poor, too.  You can walk on slowly, and I will overtake you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“After walking half a mile, if I have not overtaken you, you may sit down under a tree and wait for me.”

“All right, sir.”

“Before I leave you I will tell you a secret.”

“What is it, sir?”

“The two dollars you picked up, I dropped on purpose.”

“On purpose?” asked Carl, in amazement.

“Yes; I wanted to try you, to see if you were honest.”

“Then you had noticed me?”

“Yes.  I liked your appearance, but I wanted to test you.”

CHAPTER XIII.

An unequal contest.

Carl walked on slowly.  He felt encouraged by the prospect of work, for he was sure that Mr. Jennings would make a place for him, if possible.

“He is evidently a kind-hearted man,” Carl reflected.  “Besides, he has been poor himself, and he can sympathize with me.  The wages may be small, but I won’t mind that, if I only support myself economically, and get on.”  To most boys brought up in comfort, not to say luxury, the prospect of working hard for small pay would not have seemed inviting.  But Carl was essentially manly, and had sensible ideas about labor.  It was no sacrifice or humiliation to him to become a working boy, for he had never considered himself superior to working boys, as many boys in his position would have done.

He walked on in a leisurely manner, and at the end of ten minutes thought he had better sit down and wait for Mr. Jennings.  But he was destined to receive a shock.  There, under the tree which seemed to offer the most inviting shelter, reclined a figure only too well-known.

It was the tramp who the day before had compelled him to surrender the ten-dollar bill.

The ill-looking fellow glanced up, and when his gaze rested upon Carl, his face beamed with savage joy.

“So it’s you, is it?” he said, rising from his seat.

“Yes,” answered Carl, doubtfully.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yes.”

“I have cause to remember you, my chicken.  That was a mean trick you played upon me,” and he nodded his head significantly.

“I should think it was you that played the trick on me.”

“How do you make that out?” growled the tramp.

“You took my money.”

“So I did, and much good it did me.”

Carl was silent.

“You know why, don’t you?”