“Are you going to work?” asked Jim.

“I hope so.”

“Got anything in view?”

“Not exactly.’”

“It would be a good thing if we could get into the same place.”

“Do you say that because we have always agreed so well?” asked
Hector, amused.

“We may be better friends in future,” said Jim, with a grin.

Hector was judiciously silent.

“Where are you staying?”

“Up on Forty-second Street.”

“That’s a good way uptown, isn’t it?”

“Yes, pretty far up.”

“Are you boarding?”

“No; I am visiting some friends.”

“Couldn’t you get me in there as one of your school friends?”

This question indicated such an amount of assurance on the part of his old enemy that at first Hector did not know how to reply in fitting terms.

“I couldn’t take such a liberty with my friends,” he said.  “Besides, it doesn’t strike me that we were on very intimate terms.”

But Jim was not sensitive to a rebuff.

“The fact is,” he continued, “I haven’t got much money, and it would be very convenient to visit somebody.  Perhaps you could lend me five dollars?”

“I don’t think I could.  I think I shall have to say good-morning.”

“I can’t make anything out of him,” said Jim to himself, philosophically.  “I wonder if he’s got any money.  Uncle Socrates told me his uncle had cast him off.”

Going up Broadway instead of down, it was not long before Jim met Allan Roscoe and Guy, whom he immediately recognized.  Not being troubled with immodesty, he at once walked up to Mr. Roscoe and held out his hand.

“Good-morning, Mr. Roscoe!” he said, in an ingratiating voice.

“Good-morning, young man.  Where have I met you?” asked Allan Roscoe, puzzled.

“At Smith Institute.  I am the nephew of Mr. Smith.”

“What!  Not the nephew who—­”

Mr. Roscoe found it hard to finish the sentence.  He didn’t like to charge Jim with stealing to his face.

“I know what you mean,” said Jim, boldly.  “I am the one whom your nephew charged with taking money which he took himself.  I don’t want to say anything against him, as he is your nephew, but he is an artful young—­but no matter.  You are his uncle.”

“He is not my nephew, but was only cared for by my brother,” said Allan Roscoe.  “You may tell me freely, my good fellow, all the truth.  You say that Hector stole the money which your uncle lost.”

“Yes; but he has made my uncle believe that I took it.  It is hard upon me,” said Jim, pathetically, “as I was dependent upon my uncle.  I have been driven forth into the cold world by my benefactor because your nephew prejudiced his mind against me.”

“I believe him, papa,” said Guy, who was only too glad to believe anything against Hector.  “I have thought all along that Hector was guilty.”