And the miserable youth, having despatched his cakes, was so overcome by the thought of his loss that he burst into tears.

“I say,” said Dick, “dry up, and see what I’ve got here.”

The youth no sooner saw the roll of bills, and comprehended that it was indeed his lost treasure, than from the depths of anguish he was exalted to the most ecstatic joy.  He seized Dick’s hand, and shook it with so much energy that our hero began to feel rather alarmed for its safety.

“’Pears to me you take my arm for a pump-handle,” said he.  “Couldn’t you show your gratitood some other way?  It’s just possible I may want to use my arm ag’in some time.”

The young man desisted, but invited Dick most cordially to come up and stop a week with him at his country home, assuring him that he wouldn’t charge him anything for board.

“All right!” said Dick.  “If you don’t mind I’ll bring my wife along, too.  She’s delicate, and the country air might do her good.”

Jonathan stared at him in amazement, uncertain whether to credit the fact of his marriage.  Dick walked on with Frank, leaving him in an apparent state of stupefaction, and it is possible that he has not yet settled the affair to his satisfaction.

“Now,” said Frank, “I think I’ll go back to the Astor House.  Uncle has probably got through his business and returned.”

“All right,” said Dick.

The two boys walked up to Broadway, just where the tall steeple of Trinity faces the street of bankers and brokers, and walked leisurely to the hotel.  When they arrived at the Astor House, Dick said, “Good-by, Frank.”

“Not yet,” said Frank; “I want you to come in with me.”

Dick followed his young patron up the steps.  Frank went to the reading-room, where, as he had thought probable, he found his uncle already arrived, and reading a copy of “The Evening Post,” which he had just purchased outside.

“Well, boys,” he said, looking up, “have you had a pleasant jaunt?”

“Yes, sir,” said Frank.  “Dick’s a capital guide.”

“So this is Dick,” said Mr. Whitney, surveying him with a smile.  “Upon my word, I should hardly have known him.  I must congratulate him on his improved appearance.”

“Frank’s been very kind to me,” said Dick, who, rough street-boy as he was, had a heart easily touched by kindness, of which he had never experienced much.  “He’s a tip-top fellow.”

“I believe he is a good boy,” said Mr. Whitney.  “I hope, my lad, you will prosper and rise in the world.  You know in this free country poverty in early life is no bar to a man’s advancement.  I haven’t risen very high myself,” he added, with a smile, “but have met with moderate success in life; yet there was a time when I was as poor as you.”

“Were you, sir,” asked Dick, eagerly.

“Yes, my boy, I have known the time I have been obliged to go without my dinner because I didn’t have enough money to pay for it.”