Roger complied at once, for the clergyman’s “human nature” had gained his unlimited confidence.

“Now I’m going out,” said his friend.  “You stay and make my study your own.  There is paper, etc.  I think I know of a room that you can obtain for a small sum from a nice, quiet family, and perhaps it will just suit you.  I’ll see; but don’t take it if you don’t like it.  You’ll stay and lunch with us, and we’ll drink to your success in generous cups of coffee that only my wife knows how to make,” and he left Roger cheered, hopeful, and resolute.  What was better still, the young man was starting right, as was well proved by the long, affectionate, yet firm and manly letter written to his mother.

After a genial lunch, at which he was treated with a respect and kindness which did him a world of good, he went with Mr. Wentworth to see the room, and was well pleased with it, and he added his future address to the note to his uncle.  He then said: 

“I keep my promise about Mr. Jocelyn, and the sooner that man is put under treatment the better.”

“Why, Roger!” exclaimed his friend, “you can’t do anything now.”

“I can do just what I promised.  I have a hundred dollars in the bank, and there is about twenty-five still due me.  With the latter sum I can get along until I can find employment.”

“Hold on, Roger; it seems to me that your generosity is getting the better of you now.  Circumstances have greatly changed since you made your promise.”

“I’ve not changed, and my promises don’t change with circumstances.  It may be some time before you can raise the money, even if you can get it at all in these bard times, and it’s something that ought to be done at once.”

“Give me your hand again, old fellow.  The world would say we were a pair of fools, but we’ll wait and see who’s right.  Come to me at nine to-morrow morning.”

Mr. Wentworth had several things on hand that he meant to do, but he dropped everything and started for the offices of some lawyers whom he knew, determined to find a foothold at once for his plucky protege.  Roger went to call on Mrs. Jocelyn, feeling that he would like to get the matter relating to her husband settled, so that he might give all his thought and energy to the problem of making his way unaided.  In response to his knock a light step crossed the floor, and the door was opened a little, revealing Mildred’s face, then it was thrown open hospitably.  “Oh, Mr. Atwood,” she exclaimed, “I am very glad to see you.  Forgive me that I opened the door so suspiciously, but you have never lived in a tenement, and do not know what awful neighbors are often prowling around.  Besides, I was alone, and that made me more timid.  I am so troubled about something, and perhaps you can help me, for you seem to be able to help every one,” Mildred continued hastily, for she dreaded an embarrassing silence between them unspeakably.  “I’ve been to see my employers in the hope they would forgive that poor girl who put the lace in my cloak, and they won’t.  They were polite and kind to me, and offered me better wages if I would come back, but were relentless toward the girl, saying they ’meant to break up that kind of thing once for all.’  Don’t you think something might be done?”