But when they reached New York, and found themselves on Broadway, his companion paused in front of a large clothing store with large plate-glass windows, and said, quietly:  “Come in, Luke.  I think you need some new clothes.”

Luke’s face flushed with pleasure, but he said, “I have no money, Mr. Reed.”

“I have,” said Roland Reed, significantly.

“You are very kind, sir,” said Luke, gratefully.

“It costs little to be kind when you have more money than you know what to do with,” said Reed.  “I don’t mean that I am a Vanderbilt or an Astor, but my income is much greater than I need to spend on myself.”

A suit was readily found which fitted Luke as well as if it had been made for him.  It was of gray mixed cloth, made in fashionable style.

“You may as well keep it on, Luke.”  Then to the shopman:  “Have you a nice suit of black cloth, and of the same size?”

“Yes, sir,” answered the salesman, readily.

“He may as well have two while we are about it.  As to the old suit, it is too small, and we will leave it here to be given away to some smaller boy.”

Luke was quite overwhelmed by his new friend’s munificence.

“I don’t think mother will know me,” he said, as he surveyed himself in a long mirror.

“Then I will introduce you or give you a letter of introduction.  Have you a watch, Luke?”

“No, sir; you know I did not get the prize at the skating match.”

“True; then I must remedy the deficiency.”

They took the roadway stage down below the Astor House—­it was before the days of Jacob Sharp’s horse railway—­and got out at Benedict’s.  There Mr. Reed made choice of a neat silver watch, manufactured at Waltham, and bought a plated chain to go with it.

“Put that in your vest pocket,” he said.  “It may console you for the loss of the Waterbury.”

“How can I ever repay you for your kindness, Mr. Reed?” said Luke, overjoyed.

“I have taken a fancy to you, Luke,” said his companion.  “I hope to do more for you soon.  Now we will go uptown, and I will put my little girl under your charge.”

Luke had dreaded making a call at a nice city house in his old suit.  Now he looked forward to it with pleasure, especially after his new friend completed his benefactions by buying him a new pair of shoes and a hat.

“Luke,” asked his companion, as they were on their way uptown in a Sixth Avenue car, “do you know who owned the box of bonds taken from the Groveton Bank?”

“I have heard that it was a Mr. Armstrong, now traveling in Europe.”

“How did he come to leave the box in a village bank?”

“He is some acquaintance of Squire Duncan, and spent some weeks last summer at the village hotel.”

“Then probably he left the box there at the suggestion of Duncan, the president.”

“I don’t know, sir, but I think it very likely.”