After parting with Allan Roscoe and Guy, Hector kept on his waydowntown. He did not expect to meet any more acquaintances, but hewas again to be surprised. Standing on the sidewalk having his bootsblacked, he recognized the schoolfellow he had least reason to like--JimSmith.
"What brings Jim here?" he asked himself, in some surprise.
He did not feel inclined to go up and claim acquaintance, but it chancedthat he became witness of a piece of meanness characteristic of Jim.
When the young bootblack had finished polishing his shoes, he waited forhis customary fee.
Jim fumbled in his pockets, and finally produced two cents.
"There, boy," he said, placing them in the hand of the disgusted knightof the brush.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"It's your pay."
"Look here, mister, you've made a mistake; here's only two cents."
"I know it."
"Do you think I work for any such price as that?"
"Perhaps you expect a dollar!" sneered Jim.
"No, I don't; but a nickel's my lowest price. Plenty of gentlemen giveme a dime."
"That's too much; I've paid you all I'm going to."
"Wait a minute. That boot don't look as well as the other."
Jim unsuspiciously allowed the boy to complete his work, but he hadoccasion to regret it. The bootblack hastily rubbed his brush in the mudon the sidewalk and daubed it on one of Jim's boots, quite effacing theshine.
"There, that'll do," he said, and, scrambling to his feet, ran round thecorner.
Then, for the first time, Jim looked down, and saw what the boy haddone. He uttered an exclamation of disgust and looked round hastily tosee where the offender had betaken himself. His glance fell upon Hector,who was quietly looking on, and not without a sense of enjoyment.
It often happens that we greet cordially those for whom we have even afeeling of aversion when we meet them unexpectedly away from our usualhaunts. Jim, who was beginning to regret that circumstances had forcedhim to leave the serene sanctuary of Smith Institute, since now he wouldbe under the necessity of making his own living, was glad to see ourhero.
"Is it you, Roscoe?" he said, eagerly.
"Yes," answered Hector, coolly.
"What are you doing?"
"Walking about the city, just at present."
"Suppose we go together."
Hector hardly knew how to refuse, and the two boys kept down Broadway incompany.
"You're surprised to see me, ain't you?" asked Jim.
"Rather so."
"You see, I got tired of the school. I've been there three years, so Itold my uncle I would come to New York and see if I couldn't get work."
"I hope you may succeed," said Hector, for he would not allow hisdislikes to carry him too far. He felt that there was room in the worldfor Jim and himself, too.
"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 hisold enemy that at first Hector did not know how to reply in fittingterms.
"I couldn't take such a liberty with my friends," he said. "Besides, itdoesn'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 wouldbe very convenient to visit somebody. Perhaps you could lend me fivedollars?"
"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 mehis uncle had cast him off."
Going up Broadway instead of down, it was not long before Jim met AllanRoscoe and Guy, whom he immediately recognized. Not being troubled withimmodesty, 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 tocharge Jim with stealing to his face.
"I know what you mean," said Jim, boldly. "I am the one whom your nephewcharged with taking money which he took himself. I don't want tosay anything against him, as he is your nephew, but he is an artfulyoung--but no matter. You are his uncle."
"He is not my nephew, but was only cared for by my brother," said AllanRoscoe. "You may tell me freely, my good fellow, all the truth. You saythat Hector stole the money which your uncle lost."
"Yes; but he has made my uncle believe that I took it. It is hard uponme," said Jim, pathetically, "as I was dependent upon my uncle. I havebeen driven forth into the cold world by my benefactor because yournephew prejudiced his mind against me."
"I believe him, papa," said Guy, who was only too glad to believeanything against Hector. "I have thought all along that Hector wasguilty."
"Is that your son?" asked the crafty Jim. "I wish he had come to theinstitute, instead of Hector. He is a boy that I couldn't help liking."
There are few who are altogether inaccessible to flattery. At any rate,Guy was not one of this small number.
"I feel sure you are not guilty," said Guy, regarding Jim graciously."It was a very mean thing in Hector to get you into trouble."
"It was, indeed," said Jim. "I am cast out of my uncle's house, and nowI have no home, and hardly any money."
"Hector is in the city. Have you seen him?" asked Allan Roscoe.
"Yes; I met him a few minutes since."
"Did you speak to him?"
"Yes; I reproached him for getting me into trouble, but he only laughedin my face. He told me he hated you both," added Jim, ingenuously.
"Just like Hector!" said Guy. "What have I always told you, papa?"
"I am sorry you have suffered such injustice at the hands of anyone inany way connected with my family," said Mr. Roscoe, who, like Guy, wasnot indisposed to believe anything to the discredit of Hector. "I donot feel responsible for his unworthy acts, but I am willing to show mysympathy by a small gift."
He produced a five-dollar note and put it into Jim's ready hand.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "You are a gentleman."
So the interview closed, and Jim left the spot, chuckling at the mannerin which he had wheedled so respectable a sum out of Allan Roscoe.
Meanwhile Hector, after looking about him, turned, and, getting intoa Broadway stage, rode uptown as far as Twenty-third Street, wherethe stage turned down toward Sixth Avenue. He concluded to walk theremainder of the way.
As he was walking up Madison Avenue, his attention was drawn to a littlegirl in charge of a nursemaid. The latter met an acquaintance and forgother charge. The little girl, left to herself, attempted to cross thestreet just as a private carriage was driven rapidly up the avenue. Thedriver was looking away, and it seemed as if, through the double neglectof the driver and the nurse, the poor child would be crushed beneath thehoofs of the horses and the wheels of the carriage.
CHAPTER XXX. A BRAVE DEED.