"Why--why--" stammered Samuel, in alarm.

"You're tryin' to tell me that girl came from Lockman's?" roared the
chief.

"Yes, sir!"

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"It's true, sir!"

"What're you tryin' to give me, anyhow?" demanded the man.

"But it's true, sir!" declared Samuel again.

"You tell me she was there at dinner?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Come! Quit your nonsense, boy!"

"But she was, sir!"

"What do you expect to make out of this, young fellow?"

"But she was, sir!"

Apparently the chief's method was to doubt every statement that Samuel
made, and repeat his incredulity three times, each time in a louder
tone of voice and with a more ferocious expression of countenance.
Then, if the boy stuck it out, he concluded that he was telling the
truth. By this exhausting method the examination reached its end, and
Samuel was led back to his cell.

"Did you stick to your story?" asked his cellmate.

"Of course," said he.

"Well, if it is true," remarked the other, "there'll be something
doing soon."

And there was. About an hour later the sergeant came again and
entered. He drew the two men into a corner.

"See here, young fellow," he said to Samuel in a low voice. "Have you
got anything against young Lockman?"

"No," replied Samuel. "Why?"

"If we let you go, will you shut up about this?"

"Why, yes," said the boy, "if you want me to,"

"All right," said the sergeant. "And you, Charlie--we've got you dead,
you know."

"Yes," said the other, "I know."

"And there's ten years coming to you, you understand?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"All right. Then will you call it a bargain?"

"I will," said Charlie.
 "You'll skip the town, and hold your mouth?"

"I will."

"Very well. Here's your own kit--and you ought to get through them
bars before daylight. And here's fifty dollars. You take this young
fellow to New York and lose him. Do you see?"

"I see," said Charlie.

"All right," went on the sergeant. "And mind you don't play any monkey
tricks!"

"I'm on," said Charlie with a chuckle.

And without more ado he selected a saw from his bag and set to work at
the bars of the window. The sergeant retired; and Samuel sat down on
the floor and gasped for breath.

For about an hour the man worked without a word. Then he braced
himself against the wall and wrenched out one of the bars; then
another wrench, and another bar gave way; after which he packed up his
kit and slipped it into a pocket under his coat. "Now," he said, "come
on."

He slipped through the opening and dropped to the ground, and Samuel
followed suit. "This way," he whispered, and they darted down an alley
and came out upon a dark street. For perhaps a mile they walked on in
silence, then Charlie turned into a doorway and opened the door with a
latch key, and they went up two flights of stairs and into a rear
room. He lit the gas, and took off his coat and flung it on the bed.
"Now, make yourself at home," he said.

"Is this your room?" asked Samuel.

"Yes," was the reply. "The bulls haven't found it, either!"

"But I thought we were to go out of town!" exclaimed the other.

"Humph!" laughed Charlie. "Young fellow, you're easy!"

"Do you mean you're not going?" cried Samuel.

"What! When I've got a free license to work the town?"

Samuel stared at him, amazed. "You mean they wouldn't arrest you?"

"Not for anything short of murder, I think."

"But--but what could you do?"

"Just suppose I was to tip off some newspaper with that story? Not
here in Lockmanville--but the New York Howler, we'll say?"

"I see!" gasped Samuel.

Charlie had tilted back in his chair and was proceeding to fill his
pipe. "Gee, sonny," he said, "they did me the greatest turn of my life
when they poked you into that cell. I'll get what's coming to me now!"

"How will you get it?" asked the boy.

"I'm a gopherman," said the other.

"What's that?" asked Samuel.

"You'll have to learn to sling the lingo," said Charlie with a laugh.
"It's what you call a burglar."

Samuel looked at the man in wonder. He was tall and lean, with a pale
face and restless dark eyes. He had a prominent nose and a long neck,
which gave him a peculiar, alert expression that reminded Samuel of a
startled partridge.

"Scares you, hey?" he said. "Well, I wasn't always a gopherman."

"What were you before that?"

"I was an inventor."

"An inventor!" exclaimed Samuel.

"Yes. Have you seen the glass-blowing machines here in town?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, I invented three of them. And old Henry Lockman robbed me of
them."

"Robbed you!" gasped the boy amazed.

"Yes," said the other. "Didn't he rob everybody he ever came near?"

"I didn't know it," replied Samuel.

"Guess you never came near him," laughed the man. "Say--where do you
come from, anyhow? Tell me about yourself."

So Samuel began at the beginning and told his story. Pretty soon he
came to the episode of "Glass Bottle Securities."

"My God!" exclaimed the other. "I thought you said old Lockman had
never robbed you!"

"I did," answered Samuel.

"But don't you see that he robbed you then?"

"Why, no. It wasn't his fault. The stock went down when he died."

"But why should it have gone down when he died, except that he'd
unloaded it on the public for a lot more than it was worth?"

Samuel's jaw fell. "I never thought of that," he said.

"Go on," said Charlie.

Then Samuel told how he was starving, and how he had gone to Professor
Stewart, and how the professor had told him he was one of the unfit.
His companion had taken his pipe out of his mouth and was staring at
him.

"And you swallowed all that?" he gasped.

"Yes," said Samuel.

"And you tried to carry it out! You went away to starve!"

"But what else was there for me to do?" asked the boy.

"But the Lord!" ejaculated the other. "When it came time for ME to
starve, I can promise you I found something else to do!"

"Go on," he said after a pause; and Samuel told how he had saved young
Lockman's life, and what happened afterwards.

"And so he was your dream!" exclaimed the other. "You were up against
a brace game, Sammy!"

"But how was I to know?" protested the boy.

"You should read the papers. That kid's been cutting didoes in the
Tenderloin for a couple of years. He wasn't worth the risking of your
little finger--to say nothing of your life."

"It seems terrible," said Samuel dismayed.

"The trouble with you, Sammy," commented the other, "is that you're
too good to live. That's all there is to your unfitness. You take old
Lockman, for instance. What was all his 'fitness'? It was just that he
was an old wolf. I was raised in this town, and my dad went to school
with him. He began by cheating his sisters out of their inheritance.
Then he foreclosed a mortgage on a glass factory and went into the
business. He was a skinflint, and he made money--they say he burned
the plant down for the insurance, but I don't know. Anyway, he had
rivals, and he made a crooked deal with some of the railroad people--
gave them stock you know--and got rebates. And he had some union
leaders on his pay rolls, and he called strikes on his rivals, and
when he'd ruined them he bought them out for a song. And when he had
everything in his hands, and got tired of paying high wages, he fired
some of the union men and forced a strike. Then he brought in some
strike-breakers and hired some thugs to slug them, and turned the
police loose on the men--and that was the end of the unions. Meanwhile
he'd been running the politics of the town, and he'd given himself all
the franchises--there was nobody could do anything in Lockmanville
unless he said so. And finally, when he'd got the glass trade
cornered, he formed the Trust, and issued stock for about five times
what the plants had cost, and dumped it on the market for suckers like
you to buy. And that's the way he made his millions--that's the
meaning of his palace and all the wonders you saw up there. And now
he's dead, and all his fortune belongs to Master Albert, who never did
a stroke of work in his life, and isn't 'fit' enough to be a ten-
dollar-a-week clerk. And you come along and lie down for him to walk
on, and the more nails he has in his boots the better you like it! And
there's the whole story for you!"

Samuel had been listening awe-stricken. The abysmal depths of his
ignorance and folly!

"Now he's got his money," said the other--"and he means to keep it. So
there are the bulls, to slam you over the head if you bother him.
That's called the Law! And then he hires some duffer to sit up and
hand you out a lot of dope about your being 'unfit'; and that's called
a College! Don't you see?"

"Yes," whispered Samuel. "I see!"

His companion stabbed at him with his finger. "All that was wrong with
you, Sammy," he said, "was that you swallowed the dope! That's where
your 'unfitness' came in! Why--take his own argument. Suppose you
hadn't given up. Suppose you'd fought and won out. Then you'd have
been as good as any of them, wouldn't you? Suppose, for instance,
you'd hit that son-of-a-gun over the head with a poker and got away
with his watch and his pocketbook--then you'd have been 'fitter' than
he, wouldn't you?"

Samuel had clutched at the arms of his chair and was staring with
wide-open eyes.

"You never thought of that, hey, Sammy? But that's what I found myself
facing a few years ago. They'd got every cent I had, and I was ready
for the scrap heap. But I said, 'Nay, nay, Isabel!' I'd played their
game and lost--but I made a new game--and I made my own rules, you can
bet!"

"You mean stealing!" cried the boy.

"I mean War," replied the other. "And you see--I've survived! I'm not
pretty to look at and I don't live in a palace, but I'm not starving,
and I've got some provisions salted away."

"But they had you in jail!"

"Of course. I've done my bit--twice. But that didn't kill me; and I
can learn things, even in the pen."

There was a pause. Then Charlie Swift stood up and shook the ashes out
of his pipe. "Speaking of provisions," he said, "these midnight
adventures give you an appetite." And he got out a box of crackers and
some cheese and a pot of jam. "Move up," he said, "and dip in. You'll
find that red stuff the real thing. My best girl made it. One of the
things that bothered me in jail was the fear that the bulls might get
it."

Samuel was too much excited to eat. But he sat and watched, while his
companion stowed away crackers and cheese.

"What am I going to do now?" he said half to himself.

"You come with me," said Charlie. "I'll teach you a trade where you'll
be your own boss. And I'll give you a quarter of the swag until you've
learned it."

"What!" gasped Samuel in horror. "Be a burglar!"

"Sure," said the other. "What else can you do?"

"I don't know," said the boy.

"Have you got any money?"

"Only a few pennies. I hadn't got my wages yet."

"I see. And will you go and ask Master Albert for them?"

"No," said Samuel quickly. "I'll never do that!"

"Then you'll go out and hunt for a job again, I suppose? Or will you
start out on that starving scheme again?"

"Don't!" cried the boy wildly. "Let me think!"

"Come! Don't be a summer-boarder!" exclaimed the other. "You've got
the professor's own warrant for it, haven't you? And you've got a free
field before you--you can help yourself to anything you want in
Lockmanville, and the bulls won't dare to lift a finger! You'll be a
fool if you let go of such a chance."


"But it's wrong!" protested Samuel. "You know it's wrong!"

"Humph!" laughed Charlie. And he shut the top of the cracker box with
a bang and rose up. "You sleep over it," he said. "You'll be hungry
to-morrow morning."

"That won't make any difference!" cried the boy.

"Maybe not," commented the other; and then he added with a grin:
"Don't you ask me for grub. For that would be charity; and if you're
really one of the unfit, it's not for me to interfere with nature!"

And so all the next day Samuel sat in Charlie's room and faced the
crackers and cheese and the pot of jam, and wrestled with the problem.
He knew what it would mean to partake of the food, and Charlie knew
what it would mean also; and feeling certain that Samuel would not
partake upon any other terms, he left the covers off the food, so that
the odors might assail the boy's nostrils.

Of course Samuel might have gone out and bought some food with the few
pennies he had in his pocket. But that would have been merely to
postpone the decision, and what was the use of that? And to make
matters ten times worse, he owed money to the Stedmans--for he had
lived upon the expectation of his salary!

In the end it was not so much hunger that moved him, as it was pure
reason. For Samuel, as we know, was a person who took an idea
seriously; and there was no answer to be found to Charlie's argument.
Doubtless the reader will find a supply of them, but Samuel racked his
wits in vain. If, as the learned professor had said, life is a
struggle for existence, and those who have put money in their purses
are the victors; and if they have nothing to do for the unemployed
save to let them starve or put them in jail; then on the other hand,
it would seem to be up to the unemployed to take measures for their
own survival. And apparently the only proof of their fitness would be
to get some money away from those who had it. Had not Herbert Spencer,
the authority in such matters, stated that "inability to catch prey
shows a falling short of conduct from its ideal"? And if the good
people let themselves be starved to death by the wicked, would that
not mean that only the wicked would be left alive? It was thoughts
like this that were driving Samuel--he had Bertie Lockman's taunts
ringing in his ears, and for the life of him he could not see why he
should vacate the earth in favor of Bertie Lockman!

So breakfast time passed, and dinner time passed, and supper time
came. And his friend spread out the contents of his larder again, and
then leaned over the table and said, "Come and try it once and see how
you like it!"

And Samuel clenched his hands suddenly and answered--"All right, I'll
try it!"

Then he started upon a meal. But in the middle of it he stopped, and
set down an untasted cracker, and gasped within himself--"Merciful
Heaven! I've promised to be a burglar!"

The other was watching him narrowly. "Ain't going to back out?" he
asked.

"No," said Samuel. "I won't back out! But it seems a little queer,
that's all."




CHAPTER XIV


The meal over, Charlie Swift took out a pencil and paper. "Now," said
he. "To business!"

Samuel pulled up his chair and the other drew a square. "This is a
house I've been studying. It's on a corner--these are streets, and
here's an alley. This is the side door that I think I can open.
There's a door here and one in back here. Fix all that in your mind."

"I have it," said the boy.

"You go in, and here's the entrance hall. The front stairs are here.
What I'm after is the family plate, and it's up on the second floor.
I'll attend to that. The only trouble is that over here beyond the
library there's a door, and, somebody sleeps in that room. I don't
know who it is. But I want you to stay in the hall, and if there's
anyone stirs in that room you're to dart upstairs and give one whistle
at the top. Then I'll come."

"And what then?"

"This is the second floor," said Charlie, drawing another square. "And
here's the servant's stairway, and we can get down to this entrance in
the rear, that I'll open before I set to work. On the other hand, if
you hear me whistle upstairs, then you're to get out by the way we
came. If there's any alarm given, then it's each for himself."

"I see," said Samuel; and gripped his hands so that his companion
might not see how he was quaking.

Charlie got out his kit and examined it to make sure that the police
had kept nothing. Then he went to a bureau drawer and got a revolver,
examined it and slipped it into his pocket. "They kept my best one,"
he said. "So I've none to lend you."

"I--I wouldn't take it, anyway," stammered the other in horror.

"You'll learn," said the burglar with a smile.

Then he sat down again and drew a diagram of the streets of
Lockmanville, so that Samuel could find his way back in case of
trouble. "We don't want to take any chances," said he. "And mind, if I
get caught, I'll not mention you--wild horses couldn't drag it out of
me. And you make the same promise."

"I make it," said Samuel.

"Man to man," said Charlie solemnly; and Samuel repeated the words.

"How did you come to know so much about the house?" he asked after a
while.

"Oh! I've lived here and I've kept my eyes open. I worked as a
plumber's man for a couple of months and I made diagrams."

"But don't the police get to know you?"

"Yes--they know me. But I skip out when I've done a job. And when I
come back it's in disguise. Once I grew a beard and worked in the
glass works all day and did my jobs at night; and again I lived here
as a woman."

"A woman!" gasped the boy.

"You see," said the other with a laugh, "there's more ways than one to
prove your fitness." And he went on, narrating some of his adventures-
-adventures calculated to throw the glamour of romance about the trade
of burglar. Samuel listened breathless with wonder.

"We'd better get a bit of sleep now," said Charlie later on. "We'll
start about one." And he stretched himself out on the bed, while the
other sat motionless in the chair, pondering hard over his problem.
There was no sleeping for Samuel that night.

He would carry out his bargain--that was his decision. But he would
not take his share of the plunder, except just enough to pay Mrs.
Stedman. And he would never be a burglar again!

At one o'clock he awakened his companion, and they set out through the
deserted streets. They crossed the bridge to the residential part of
town; and then, at a corner, Charlie stopped. "There's the place," he
said, pointing to a large house set back within a garden.

They gazed about. The coast was clear; and they darted into the door
which had been indicated in the diagram. Samuel crouched in the
doorway, motionless, while the other worked at the lock. Samuel's
knees were trembling so that he could hardly stand up.

The door was opened without a sound having been made, and they stole
into the entrance. They listened--the house was as still as death.
Then Charlie flashed his lantern, and Samuel had quick glimpses of a
beautiful and luxuriously furnished house. It was nothing like
"Fairview," of course; but it was finer than Professor Stewart's home.
There was a library, with great leather armchairs; and in the rear a
dining room, where mirrors and cut glass flashed back the far-off
glimmer of the light.

"There's your door over there," whispered Charlie. "And you'd better
stay behind those curtains."

So Samuel took up his post; the light vanished and his companion
started for the floor above. Several times the boy heard the stairs
creaking, and his heart leaped into his throat; but then the sounds
ceased and all was still.

The minutes crawled by--each one seemed an age. He stood rooted to the
spot, staring into the darkness--half-hypnotized by the thought of the
door which he could not see, and of the person who might be asleep
behind it. Surely this was a ghastly way for a man to have to gain his
living--it were better to perish than to survive by such an ordeal!
Samuel was appalled by the terrors which took possession of him, and
the tremblings and quiverings which he could not control. Any danger
in the world he would have faced for conscience' sake; but this was
wrong--he knew it was wrong! And so all the glow of conviction was
gone from him.

What could be the matter? Why should Charlie be so long? Surely he had
had time enough to ransack the whole house! Could it be that he had
got out by the other way--that he had planned to skip town, and leave
Samuel there in the lurch?

And then again came a faint creaking upon the stairs. He was coming
back! Or could it by any chance be another person? He dared not
venture to whisper; he stood, tense with excitement, while the sounds
came nearer--it was as if some monster were creeping upon him in the
darkness, and folding its tentacles about him!

He heard a sound in the hall beside him. Why didn't Charlie speak?
What was the matter with him? What--

And then suddenly came a snapping sound, and a blinding glare of light
flashed up, flooding the hallway and everything about him. Samuel
staggered back appalled. There was some one standing there before him!
He was caught!

Thus for one moment of dreadful horror. And then he realized that the
person confronting him was a little girl!

She was staring at him; and he stared at her. She could not have been
more than ten years old, and wore a nightgown trimmed with lace. She
had bright yellow hair, and her finger was upon the button which
controlled the lights.

For fully a minute neither of them moved. Then Samuel heard a voice
whispering: "Are you a burglar?"

He could not speak, but he nodded his head. And then again he heard
the child's voice: "Oh, I'm so glad!"

"I'm so glad!" she repeated again, and her tone was clear and sweet.
"I'd been praying for it! But I'd almost given up hope!"

Samuel found voice enough to gasp, "Why?"

"My mamma read me a story," said the child. "It was about a little
girl who met a burglar. And ever since I've been waiting for one to
come."

There was a pause. "Are you a really truly burglar?" the child
whispered.

"I--I think so," replied Samuel.

"You look very young," she said.

And the other bethought himself. "I'm only a beginner," he said. "This
is really my first time."

"Oh!" said the child with a faint touch of disappointment. "But still
you will do, won't you?"

"Do for what?" asked the boy in bewilderment.

"You must let me reform you," exclaimed the other. "That's what the
little girl did in the story. Will you?"

"Why--why, yes"--gasped Samuel. "I--I really meant to reform."

Then suddenly he thought he heard a sound in the hall above. He
glanced up, and for one instant he had a glimpse of the face of
Charlie peering down at him.

"What are you looking at?" asked the child.

"I thought--that is--there's some one with me," stammered Samuel,
forgetting his solemn vow.

"Oh! two burglars!" cried the child in delight. "And may I reform him,
too?"

"I think you'd better begin with me," said Samuel.

"Will he go away, do you think?"

"Yes--I think he's gone now."

"But you--you won't go yet, will you?" asked the child anxiously.
"You'll stay and talk to me?"

"If you wish"--gasped the boy.

"You aren't afraid of me?" she asked.

"Not of you," said he. "But if some one else should waken."

"No, you needn't think of that. Mamma and grandma both lock their
doors at night. And papa's away."

"Who sleeps there?" asked Samuel, pointing to the door he had been
watching.

"That's papa's room," said the child; and the other gave a great gasp
of relief.

"Come," said the little girl; and she seated herself in one of the big
leather armchairs. "Now," she continued, "tell me how you came to be a
burglar."

"I had no money," said Samuel, "and no work."

"Oh!" exclaimed the child; and then, "What is your work?"

"I lived on a farm all my life," said he. "My father died and then I
wanted to go to the city. I was robbed of all my money, and I was here
without any friends and I couldn't find anything to do at all. I was
nearly starving."

"Why, how dreadful!" cried the other. "Why didn't you come to see
papa?"

Your father?" said he. "I didn't want to beg--"

"It wouldn't have been begging. He'd have been glad to help you."

"I--I didn't know about him," said Samuel. "Why should he---"


"He helps everyone," said the child. "That's his business."

"How do you mean?"

"Don't you know who my father is?" she asked in surprise.

"No," said he, "I don't."

"My father is Dr. Vince," she said; and then she gazed at him with
wide-open eyes. "You've never heard of him!"

"Never," said Samuel.

"He's a clergyman," said the little girl.

"A clergyman!" echoed Samuel aghast. Somehow it seemed far worse to
have been robbing a clergyman.

"And he's so good and kind!" went on the other. "He loves everyone,
and tries to help them. And if you had come to him and told him, he'd
have found some work for you."

"There are a great many people in Lockmanville out of work," said
Samuel gravely.

"Oh! but they don't come to my papa!" said the child. "You must come
and let him help you. You must promise me that you will."

"But how can I? I've tried to rob him!"

"But that won't make any difference! You don't know my papa. If you
should tell him that you had done wrong and that you were sorry--you
are sorry, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm very sorry."

"Well, then, if you told him that, he'd forgive you--he'd do anything
for you, I know. If he knew that I'd helped to reform you, he'd be so
glad!--I did help a little, didn't I?"

"Yes," said Samuel. "You helped."

"You--you weren't very hard to reform, somehow," said the child
hesitatingly. "The little girl in the story had to talk a good deal
more. Are you sure that you are going to be good now?"

Samuel could not keep back a smile. "Truly I will," he said.

"I guess you were brought up to be good," reflected the other. "I
don't think you were very bad, anyway. It must be very hard to be
starving."

"It is indeed," said the boy with conviction.

"I never heard of anyone starving before," went on the other. "If that
happened to people often, there'd be more burglars, I guess."

There was a pause. "What is your name?" asked the little girl. "Mine
is Ethel. And now I'll tell you what we'll do. My papa's on his way
home--his train gets here early in the morning. And you come up after
breakfast--I'll make him wait for you. And then you can tell it all to
him, and then you won't have any more troubles. Will you do that?"

"You think he won't be angry with me?" asked Samuel.

"No, I'm sure of it."

"And he won't want to have me arrested?"

"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Ethel with an injured look. "Why, my papa
goes to see people in prison, and tries to help them get out! I'll
promise you, truly."

"Very well," said Samuel, "I'll come."

And so they parted. And Samuel found himself out upon the street
again, with the open sky above him, and a great hymn of relief and joy
in his soul. He was no longer a burglar!




CHAPTER XV


Samuel walked the streets all that night. For he fully meant to do
what he had promised the child, and he did not care to go back to
Charlie Swift, and face the latter's protests and ridicule.

At eight the next morning, tired but happy, he rang the bell of Dr.
Vince's house. Ethel herself opened the door; and at the sight of him
her face lighted up with joy, and she turned, crying out, "Here he
is!"

And she ran halfway down the hall, exclaiming: "He's come! I told you
he'd come! Papa!"

A man appeared at the dining room door, and stood staring at Samuel.
"There he is, papa!" cried Ethel beside herself with delight. "There's
my burglar!"

Dr. Vince came down the hall. He was a stockily built gentleman with a
rather florid complexion and bushy beard. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, sir," said Samuel.

"And are you really the young man who was here last night?"

"Yes, sir," said Samuel.

The worthy doctor was obviously disconcerted. "This is quite
extraordinary!" he exclaimed. "Won't you come in?"

They sat down in the library. "I don't want you to think, sir," said
Samuel quickly, "that I come to beg. Your little girl asked me---"

"Don't mention that," said the other. "If the story you told Ethel is
really true, I should be only too glad to do anything that I could."

"Thank you, sir," said Samuel.

"And so you really broke into my house last night!" exclaimed the
other. "Well! well! And it is the first time you have ever done
anything of the sort in your life?"

"The very first," said the boy.

"But what could have put it into your head?"

"There was another person with me," said Samuel--"you will understand
that I would rather not talk about him."

"I see," said the other. "He led you to it?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you have never done anything dishonest before?"

"No, sir."

"You have never even been a thief?"

"No!" exclaimed Samuel indignantly.

The other noticed the tone of his voice. "But why did you begin now?"
he asked.

"I was persuaded that it was right," said Samuel.

"But how could that be? Had you never been taught about stealing?"

"Yes, sir," replied the boy--"but it's not as simple as it seems. I
had met Professor Stewart--"

"Professor Stewart!" echoed the other.

"Yes, sir--the professor at the college."

"But what did he have to do with it?"

"Why, sir, he told me about the survival of the fittest, and how I had
to starve to death because I was one of the failures. And then you
see, sir, I met Master Albert--"

"Master Albert?"

"Albert Lockman, sir. And the professor had said that he was one of
the fit; and I saw that he got drunk, sir, and did other things that
were very wicked, and so it did not seem just right that I should
starve. I can see now that it was very foolish of me; but I thought
that I ought to fight, and try to survive if I possibly could. And
then I met Char--that is, a bad man who offered to show me how to be a
burglar."

The other had been listening in amazement. "Boy," he said, "are you
joking with me?"

"Joking!" echoed Samuel, his eyes opening wide. And then the doctor
caught his breath and proceeded to question him. He went back to the
beginning, and made Samuel lay bare the story of his whole life. But
when he got to the interview with Professor Stewart, the other could
contain himself no longer. "Samuel!" he exclaimed, "this is the most
terrible thing I have ever heard in my life."

"How do you mean, sir?"

"You have been saved--providentially saved, as I firmly believe. But
you were hanging on the very verge of a life of evil; and all because
men in our colleges are permitted to teach these blasphemous and
godless doctrines. This is what they call science! This is our modern
enlightenment!"

The doctor had risen and begun to pace the floor in his agitation. "I
have always insisted that the consequence of such teaching would be
the end of all morality. And here we have the thing before our very
eyes! A young man of decent life is actually led to the commission of
a crime, as a consequence of the teachings of Herbert Spencer!"

Samuel was listening in consternation. "Then it isn't true what
Herbert Spencer says!" he exclaimed.

"True!" cried the other. "Why, Samuel, don't you KNOW that it isn't
true? Weren't you brought up to read the Bible? And do you read
anything in the Bible about the struggle for existence? Were you
taught there that your sole duty was to fight with other men for your
own selfish ends? Was it not rather made clear to you that you were
not to concern yourself with your own welfare at all, but to struggle
for the good of others, and to suffer rather than do evil? Why Samuel,
what would your father have said, if he could have seen you last
night--his own dear son, that he had brought up in the way of the
Gospel?"

"Oh, sir!" cried Samuel, struck to the heart.

"My boy!" exclaimed the other. "Our business in this world is not that
we should survive, but that the good should survive. We are to live
for it and to die for it, if need be. We are to love and serve others-
-we are to be humble and patient--to sacrifice ourselves freely. The
survival of the fittest! Why, Samuel, the very idea is a denial of
spirituality--what are we that we should call ourselves fit? To think
that is to be exposed to all the base passions of the human heart--to
greed and jealousy and hate! Such doctrines are the cause of all the
wickedness, of all the materialism of our time--of crime and murder
and war! My boy, do you read that Jesus went about, worrying about His
own survival, and robbing others because they were less fit than He?
Only think how it would have been with you had you been called to face
Him last night?"

The shame of this was more than Samuel could bear. "Oh, stop, stop,
sir!" he cried, and covered his face with his hands. "I see it all! I
have been very wicked!"

"Yes!" exclaimed the other. "You have been wicked."

The tears were welling into Samuel's eyes. "I can't see how I did it,
sir," he whispered. "I have been blind--I have been lost. I am a
strayed sheep!" And then suddenly his emotion overcame him, and he
burst into a paroxysm of weeping. "I can't believe it of myself!" he
exclaimed again and again. "I have been out of my senses!"

The doctor watched him for a few moments. "Perhaps it was not
altogether your fault," he said more gently. "You have been led
astray--"

"No, no!" cried the boy. "I am bad. I see it--it must be! I could
never have been persuaded, if I had not been bad! It began at the very
beginning. I yielded to the first temptation when I stole a ride upon
the train. And everything else came from that--it has been one long
chain!"

"Let us be glad that it is no longer," said Dr. Vince--"and that you
have come to the end of it."

"Ah, but have I?" cried the boy wildly.

"Why not? Surely you will no longer be led by such false teaching!"

"No, sir. But see what I have done! Why I am liable to be sent to
jail--for I don't know how long."

"You mean for last night?" asked the doctor. "But no one will ever
know about that. You may start again and live a true life."

"Ah," cried Samuel, "but the memory of it will haunt me--I can never
forgive myself!"

"We are very fortunate," said the other gravely, "if we have only a
few things in our lives that we cannot forget, and that we cannot
forgive ourselves."

The worthy doctor had been anticipating a long struggle to bring the
young criminal to see the error of his ways; but instead, he found
that he had to use his skill in casuistry to convince the boy that he
was not hopelessly sullied. And when at last Samuel had been persuaded
that he might take up his life again, there was nothing that would
satisfy him save to go back where he had been before, and take up that
struggle with starvation.

"I must prove that I can conquer," he said--"I yielded to the
temptation once, and now I must face it."

"But, Samuel," protested the doctor, "it is no man's duty to starve.
You must let me help you, and find some useful work for you, and some
people who will be your friends."

"Don't think I am ungrateful," cried the boy--"but why should I be
favored? There are so many others starving, right here in this town.
And if I am going to love them and serve them, why should I have more
than they have? Wouldn't that be selfish of me? Why, sir, I'd be
making profit out of my repentance!"

"I don't quite see that," said the other--

"Why, sir! Isn't it just because I've been so sorry that you are
willing to help me? There are so many others who have not been helped-
-some I know, sir, that need it far more than I do, and have deserved
it more, too!"

"It seems to me, my boy, that is being too hard upon yourself--and on
me. I cannot relieve all the distress in the world. I relieve what I
find out about. And so I must help you. And don't you see that I wish
to keep you near me, so that I can watch after your welfare? And
perhaps--who knows--you can help me. The harvest is plenty, you have
heard, and the laborers are few. There are many ways in which you
could be of service in my church."

"Ah, sir!" cried Samuel, overwhelmed with gratitude--"if you put it
that way--"

"I put it that way most certainly," said Dr. Vince. "You have seen a
new light--you wish to live a new life. Stay here and live it in
Lockmanville--there is no place in the world where it could be more
needed."

All this while the little girl had been sitting in silence drinking in
the conversation. Now suddenly she rose and came to Samuel, putting
her hand in his. "Please stay," she said.

And Samuel answered, "Very well--I'll stay."

So then they fell to discussing his future, and what Dr. Vince was
going to do for him. The good doctor was inwardly more perplexed about
it than he cared to let Samuel know.

"I'll ask Mr. Wygant," he said--"perhaps he can find you a place in
one of his factories."

"Mr. Wygant?" echoed Samuel. "You mean Miss Gladys's father?"

"Yes," said the doctor. "Do you know Miss Gladys?"

"I have met her two or three times," said the boy.

"They are parishioners of mine," remarked the other.

And Samuel gave a start. "Why!" he exclaimed. "Then you--you must be
the rector of St. Matthew's."

"Yes," was the reply. "Didn't you know that?"

The boy was a little awed. He had seen the great brownstone temple
upon the hill--a structure far more splendid than anything he had ever
dreamed of.

"Have you never attended?" asked the doctor.

"I went to the mission once," said Samuel--referring to the little
chapel in the poor quarters of the town. "A friend of mine goes there-
-Sophie Stedman. She works in Mr. Wygant's cotton mill."

"I should be glad to have you come to the church," said the other.

"I'd like to very much," replied the boy. "I didn't know exactly if I
ought to, you know."

"I am sorry you got that impression," said Dr. Vince. "The church
holds out its arms to everyone."

"Well," began Samuel apologetically, "I knew that all the rich people
went to St. Matthew's---"

"The church does not belong to the rich people," put in the doctor
very gravely; "the church belongs to the Lord."

And so Samuel, overflowing with gratitude and happiness, joined St.
Matthew's forthwith; and all the while in the deeps of his soul a
voice was whispering to him that it was Miss Gladys' church also! And
he would see his divinity again!




CHAPTER XVI


Samuel went back in great excitement to the Stedmans', to tell them of
his good fortune. And the family sat about in a circle and listened to
the recital in open-eyed amazement. It was a wonderful thing to have
an adventurer like Samuel in one's house!

But the boy noticed that Sophie did not seem as much excited as he had
anticipated. She sat with her head resting in her hands. And when the
others had left the room--"Oh, Samuel," she said. "I feel so badly to-
day! I don't see how I'm going to go on."

"Listen, Sophie," he said quickly. "That's one of the first things I
thought about--I can give you a chance now."

"How do you mean?"

"I can get Dr. Vince to help you find some better work."

"Did he say he would?" asked the child.

"No," was the reply--"but he is so good to everyone. And all the rich
people go to his church, you know. He said he wanted me to help him;
so I shall find out things like that for him to do."

And Samuel went on, pouring out his praises of the kind and gentle
clergyman, and striving to interest Sophie by his pictures of the new
world that was to open before her. "I'm going to see him again to-
morrow," he said. "Then you'll see."

"Samuel," announced the doctor when he called the next morning, "I
have found a chance for you." And Samuel's heart gave a great leap of
joy.

It appeared that the sexton of St. Matthew's was growing old. They did
not wish to change, but there must be some one to help him. The pay
would not be high; but he would have a chance to work in the church,
and to be near his benefactor. The tears of gratitude started into his
eyes as he heard this wonderful piece of news.

"I'll see more of Miss Gladys!" the voice within him was whispering
eagerly.

"Doctor," he said after a pause, "I've some good news for you also."

"What is it?" asked the other.

"It's a chance for you to help some one."

"Oh!" said the doctor.

"It's little Sophie Stedman," said Samuel; and he went on to tell how
he had met the widow, and about her long struggle with starvation, and
then of Sophie's experiences in the cotton mill.

"But what do you want me to do?" asked the other, with a troubled
look.

"Why," said Samuel, "we must save her. We must find her some work that
will not kill her."

"But, Samuel!" protested the other. "There are so many in her
position--and how can I help it?"

"But, doctor! She can't stand it!"

"I know, my boy. It is a terrible thing to think of. Still, I can't
undertake to find work for everyone."

"But she will die!" cried the boy. "Truly, it is killing her! And,
doctor, she has never had a chance in all her life! Only think--how
would you feel if Ethel had to work in a cotton mill?"

There was a pause. "I honestly can't see--" began the bewildered
clergyman.

"It will be quite easy for you to help her," put in the boy; "because,
you see, Mr. Wygant belongs to your church!"

"But what has that to do with it?"

"Why--it's Mr. Wygant's mill that she works in."

"Yes," said the doctor. "But--I---"

"Surely," exclaimed Samuel, "you don't mean that he wouldn't want to
know about it!"

"Ahem!" said the other; and again there was a pause.

It was broken by Ethel, who had come in and was listening to the
conversation. "Papa!" she exclaimed, "wouldn't Miss Gladys be the one
to ask?"

Samuel gave a start. "The very thing!" he said.

And Dr. Vince, after pondering for a moment, admitted that it might be
a good idea.

"You will come to church with me to-morrow," said Ethel. "And if she
is there we'll ask her."

And so Samuel was on hand, trembling with excitement, and painfully
conscious of his green and purple necktie. He sat in the Vince's pew,
at Ethel's invitation; and directly across the aisle was Miss Wygant,
miraculously resplendent in a springtime costume, yet with a touch of
primness, becoming to the Sabbath. She did not see her adorer until
after the service, when they met face to face.

"Why, Samuel!" she exclaimed. "You are here?"

"Yes, Miss Gladys," he said. "I'm to work in the church now."

"You don't tell me!" she responded.

"I'm to help the sexton," he added.

"And he belongs to the church, too," put in little Ethel. "And oh,
Miss Gladys, won't you please let him tell you about Sophie!"

"About Sophie?" said the other.

"She's a little girl who works in your papa's mill, Miss Gladys. And
her family's very poor, and she is sick, and Samuel says she may die."

"Why, that's too bad!" exclaimed Miss Gladys. "Tell me about her,
Samuel."

And Samuel told the story. At the end a sudden inspiration came to
him, and he mentioned how Sophie had received her Christmas present
from Miss Gladys, and how she had kept her pictures in her room.

And, of course, Miss Wygant was touched. "I will see what I can do for
her," she said. "What would you suggest?"

"I thought," said he boldly, "that maybe there might be some place for
her at your home. That would make her so happy, you know."

"I will see," said the other. "Will you bring her to see me to-morrow,
Samuel?"

"I will," said he; and then he chanced to look into her face, and he
caught again that piercing gaze which made the blood leap into his
cheeks, and the strange and terrible emotions to stir in him. He
turned his eyes away again, and his knees were trembling as he passed
on down the aisle.

He stood and watched Miss Gladys enter her motor. Then he bade good-by
to Ethel and her mother, and hurried back into the vestry room to tell
Dr. Vince of his good fortune.

The good doctor had just slipped out of his vestments, and was putting
on his cuffs. "I am so glad to hear it!" he said. "It was the very
thing to do!"

"Yes," said Samuel. "And, doctor, I've thought of something else."

"What is that, Samuel?"

"I'll have to have a minute or two to tell you about it."

"I'm just going to dinner now"--began the doctor.

"I'll walk with you, if I may," said Samuel. "It's really very
important."

"All right," responded the doctor in some trepidation.

"I thought of this in the middle of the night," explained the boy,
when they had started down the street. "It kept me awake for hours.
Dr. Vince, I think we ought to convert Master Albert Lockman!"

"Convert him?" echoed the other perplexed.

"Yes, sir," said the boy. "He is leading a wild life, and he's in a
very bad way."

"Yes, Samuel," said the clergyman. "It is terrible, I know--"

"We must labor with him!" exclaimed Samuel. "He must not be allowed to
go on like that!"

"Unfortunately," said Dr. Vince hastily, "it wouldn't do for me to try
it. You see, the Lockmans have always been Presbyterians, and so
Bertie is under Dr. Handy's care."

"But is Dr. Handy doing anything about it?" persisted the other.

"I really don't know, Samuel."

"Because if he isn't, we ought to, Dr. Vince! Something must be done."

"My boy," said the doctor, "perhaps it wouldn't be easy for you to
understand it. But there is a feeling--would it be quite good taste
for me to try to take away a very rich parishioner from another
church?"

"But what have his riches to do with it?" asked the boy.

"Unfortunately, Samuel, it costs money to build churches; and most
clergymen are dependent upon their salaries, you know."

The good doctor was trying to make a jest of it; but Samuel was in
deadly earnest. "I hope," he said, "that you are not dependent upon
the money of anyone like Master Albert."

"Um--no," said the doctor quickly.

"Understand me, please," went on the other. "It's not simply that
Master Albert is wrecking his own life. I suppose that's his right, if
he wants to. But it's what he can do to other people! It's his money,
Dr. Vince! Just think of it, he has seven hundred thousand dollars a
year! And he never earned a cent of it; and he doesn't know what to do
with it! Doctor, you KNOW that isn't right!"

"No," said the clergyman, "it's very wrong indeed. But what can you do
about it?"

"I don't know, doctor. I haven't had time to think about it--I've only
just begun to realize it. But I thought if somebody like yourself--
some one he respects--could point it out to him, he might use his
money to some good purpose. If he won't, why then he ought to give it
up."

The other smiled. "I'm afraid, Samuel, he'd hardly do that!"

"But, doctor, things can't go on as they are! Right here in this town
are people dying of starvation. And he has seven hundred thousand
dollars a year! Can that continue?"

"No, I trust not, my boy. It will be better some day. But it must be
left to evolution--"

"Evolution!" echoed Samuel perplexed. "Do you believe in evolution?"

"Why," said the other embarrassed--"what I mean is, that there are
vast social forces at work--great changes taking place. But they move
very slowly--"

"But why do they move so slowly?" objected the boy. "Isn't it just
because so many people, don't care?"

"Why, Samuel--"

"If everyone would take an interest in them--then they would happen
quickly!"

The two walked on for a minute in silence. Finally, the clergyman
remarked, "Samuel, you take a great interest in social questions."

"Yes, sir," said the boy. "You see, I have been down at the bottom,
and I know how it feels. Nobody else can possibly understand--not even
you, sir, with all your kind heart. You don't know what it means, sir-
-you don't know what it means!"

"Perhaps not, my boy," said the other. "But my conscience is far from
easy, I assure you. The only thing is, we must not be too impatient--
we must learn to wait--"

"But, doctor!" exclaimed Samuel. "Will the people wait to starve?"

That question was a poser; and perhaps it was just as well that Dr.
Vince was nearing the steps of his home. "I must go in now, Samuel,"
he said. "But we will talk about these questions another time."

"Yes, sir," said Samuel, "we will."

And the other glanced at him quickly. But the boy's face wore its old
look of guileless eagerness.




CHAPTER XVII


Samuel walked away, still pondering at the problem. Something must be
done about Master Albert, that was certain. Before he went in to his
dinner he had thought of yet another plan. He would appeal to Miss
Gladys about it! He would get her to labor with the prodigal!

At eight o'clock the next morning, he and Sophie called at Miss
Wygant's home. They went to the servants' entrance, and the maid who
opened the door sent them away, saying that Miss Gladys never rose
until ten o'clock and would not see anyone until eleven.

So they went home again and came at eleven; and they were taken to a
sitting room upon the second floor and there Miss Gladys met them,
clad in a morning gown of crimson silk.

"And so this is Sophie!" she exclaimed. "Why you poor, poor child!"
And she gazed at the little mill girl with her stunted figure and
pinched cheeks, and her patched and threadbare dress; and Sophie, in
her turn, gazed at the wonderful princess, tall and stately, glowing
with health and voluptuous beauty.

"And you work in our cotton mill!" she cried.

"How perfectly terrible! And do you mean to tell me that this child is
thirteen years old, Samuel?"

"Yes, Miss Gladys," said he.

She turned quickly and pressed a button on the wall. "Send Mrs. Harris
here," she said to the man who answered.

"Mrs. Harris is our housekeeper," she added to Samuel. "I will consult
her about it."

The "consulting" was very brief. "Mrs. Harris, this is Sophie Stedman,
a little girl I want to help. I don't know what she can do, but you
will find out. I want her to have some sort of a place in the house--
and it mustn't be hard work."

"But, Miss Gladys," said the other in perplexity, "I don't know of
anything at all!"

"You can find something," was the young lady's reply. "I want her to
have a chance to learn. Take her downstairs and have a talk with her
about it."

"Yes, Miss Gladys," said Mrs. Harris; and so Samuel was left alone
with his goddess.

He sat with his eyes upon the floor. He was just about to open the
great subject he had in his mind, when suddenly Miss Gladys herself
brought it up. "Samuel," she asked, "why did you leave my cousin's?"

Samuel hesitated. "I--I don't like to say, Miss Gladys."

"Please tell me," she insisted.

"I left it," he replied in a low voice, "because I found that he got
drunk."

"Oh!" said the girl, "when was this?"

"It was last Wednesday night, Miss Gladys."

"Tell me all about it, Samuel."

"I--I don't like to," he stammered. "It's not a story to tell to a
lady."