"A good plan." said Paul. "When are you coming?"
"To-night."
"Very well; I'll be ready for you. Is there any change in the evening?"
"No. They're comin' Monday night."
"I'll be ready for them," said Paul.
"What are you goin' to do?" asked Julius, and he fixed a pair of sharp, black eyes on Paul.
"Can I trust you, Julius?" demanded Paul, with a keen glance at the boy.
"Yes," said Julius.
"Then," said Paul, "I mean to have them arrested. They'll walk into a trap."
Julius looked thoughtful.
"Don't you like it, Julius?"
"I dunno," said the boy, slowly.
"Do you like this man Morgan?"
"I don't like him. I'm used to him."
"And you don't like the idea of his being arrested through your means?"
Julius nodded.
"I know how you feel, but I don't see how it can be helped. If he didn't rob us he would rob somebody else. Did he ever do any honest work?"
"Not as I knows on."
"How does he live?"
"By stealin' and gamblin'."
"I hope he won't teach you to follow his example, Julius."
"I don't want to be like him."
"Why not?"
"I want to be respectable, like you."
"You know it's wrong to steal."
"Yes," said Julius, but without any great depth of conviction. The fact is, stealing was too familiar to his observation to excite in him detestation or horror. But he was a sharp boy. He knew that his guardian for the last five years had spent more than half the time in confinement. Even when free he lived from hand to mouth. Julius had made up his mind that it did not pay. He saw that an honest mechanic got a good deal more comfort and enjoyment out of life than Jack, and he had a vague wish to become respectable. This was encouraging, as far as it went. Higher considerations might come by and by.
"If you want to be respectable, Julius, I'll help you," said Paul.
"Will you?" said Julius.
"Yes; you are doing me a great favor. I shall be in your debt, and that's the way I will pay you. You mustn't grow up like the man you live with."
"I don't want to."
"We'll talk about that after Monday. We shall have more time then."
"Shall I come up to-night, then?"
"Yes, come."
Julius strolled away with his blacking-box, and Paul was left to his reflections.
"He'll make a good boy if he's only encouraged," said Paul to himself.
"I don't know what would have become of me if I'd been brought up by burglars like him. There's nothing like having a good mother. There ain't any excuse for a boy going wrong if he's got a good mother."
Paul was right. Our destinies are decided more than we know by circumstances. If the street boys, brought up to a familiarity with poverty, and often with vice and crime, go astray, we should pity as well as condemn, and if we have it in our power to make the conditions of life more favorable for any, it is our duty, as the stewards of our common Father, to do what we can.
It occurred to Paul that he had no old clothes to give Julius, all his wardrobe, not very extensive at the best, having been burned up in the fire which consumed his old home. As he had told Julius to come up, it was necessary that he should have something to give him, and he therefore decided to provide himself at a second-hand clothing store.
He knew well enough where they were to be found. His old street companions used to go to Chatham street and Baxter street in search of clothing, and these localities, though not distinguished for fashion, are at least reasonable in their scale of prices.
A little earlier than usual Paul closed his stand, and walked across the City Hall Park and up Chatham street to a store he had frequently seen. Like most of its class, it had a large portion of its stock displayed outside, where the proprietor stood, keen-eyed and watchful, on the lookout for customers.
"Can I sell you something this afternoon?" he asked, obsequiously, as Paul halted in front of his store.
"That depends upon whether I see anything that suits me," answered Paul.
Before he had finished, the dealer had seized his arm, and, hurrying him into the store, pulled down a coat, on the merits of which he began to expatiate with voluble tongue.
"I don't want anything for myself," said Paul. "I want to buy a coat for a boy of twelve. Have you got anything of the right size?"
Paul need not have asked. The trader was keen at a sale, and if Barnum's giant had called for a second-hand suit, would have sworn boldly that he had the very thing. In the present case Paul found a coat which, as well as he could judge, would about fit Julius. At any rate, the street boy was not likely to be fastidious as to the quality or exact fit of a coat, which, at all events, would be a decided improvement upon the one he was now wearing.
"What is the price of this?" asked Paul.
"Five dollars," was the reply.
Paul was too well accustomed to the ways of Chatham street to pay the first price demanded, or the second or third. Finally he succeeded in getting the coat for one dollar and a half, which was cheap, although the dealer made a fair profit even at this price. Before the bargain was concluded, a tall man strayed in, and watched the bargaining with slight interest. Paul would have been not a little surprised had he known that this man was one of the burglars against whom he was contriving measures of defense. It was, indeed, Marlowe, who, having dexterously picked the pocket of a passenger on the Third avenue cars an hour before, found himself thirty dollars richer by the operation, and being himself out at elbows, had entered this shop on an errand similar to Paul's.
"What can I sell you?" asked the shopkeeper, to his new customer.
"I want a coat," said Marlowe, roughly; "good and cheap. Don't try any of your swindling tricks on me, for I won't stand them."
With the details of the negotiation that followed we have nothing to do. It is enough to say that this chance meeting between Paul and Marlowe was not without its results, though neither knew the other.