me."

"I am very sorry, sir."

"Of course you didn't mean to. Is this your stand?"

"No, sir; I am tending for the owner, who is sick."

"Does he pay you well?"

"He gives me half the profits."

"And does that pay you for your labor?"

"I can earn about a dollar a day."

"That is good. It is more than I earned when I was of your age."

"Indeed, sir!"

"Yes; I was a poor boy, but I kept steadily at work, and now I am rich."

"I hope I shall be rich some time," said Paul.

"You have the same chance that I had."

"I don't care so much for myself as for my mother and my little brother.
I should like to become rich for their sake."

"So you have a mother and a brother. Where do they live?"

Paul told him.

"And you help support them?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good boy," said the gentleman, approvingly. "Is your mother
able to earn anything?"

"Not much, sir. She makes shirts for a Broadway store, but they only pay
her twenty-five cents apiece."

"That's very small. She can sew well, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, sir; no fault is ever found with her work."

"Do you think she would make me a dozen shirts?"

"She would be glad to do so," said Paul, quickly, for he knew that his
new acquaintance would pay far more liberally than the Broadway firm.

"I will give the price I usually pay--ten shillings apiece."

Ten shillings in New York currency amount to a dollar and a quarter,
which would be five times the price Mrs Hoffman had been accustomed to
receive. A dozen shirts would come to fifteen dollars, which to a family
in their circumstances would be a great help.

"Thank you, sir," said Paul. "My mother will accept the work thankfully,
and will try to suit you. When shall I come for the cloth?"

"You may come to my house this evening, and I will give you a pattern,
and an order for the materials on a dry goods dealer in Broadway."

"Where do you live, sir?"

"No. ---- Madison avenue, between Thirty-fourth and Thirty-fifth
streets. My name is Preston. Can you remember it?"

"Yes, sir; but I will put it down to make sure."

"Well, good-morning."

"Good-morning, sir. I suppose you don't want a tie this morning?"

"I don't think you keep the kind I am accustomed to wear," said Mr.
Preston, smiling. "I stick to the old fashions, and wear a stock."

The old gentleman had scarcely gone, when two boys of twelve or thirteen
paused before the stand.

"That's a bully tie, Jeff!" said George, the elder o