hy I don't want to have anything to do with you, I
will tell you."

"Tell ahead."

"Because you're a thief."

"If you say that again, I'll lick you," said Mike, reddening with anger.

"It's true. You stole my basket of candy the other day, and that isn't
the only time you've been caught stealing."

"I'll give you the worst licking you ever had. Do you want to fight?"
said Mike, flourishing his fist.

"No, I don't," said Paul. "Some time when I haven't a bundle, I'll
accommodate you."

"You're a coward!" sneered Mike, gaining courage as he saw Paul was not
disposed for an encounter.

"I don't think I am," said Paul, coolly.

"I'll hold your shirt," said Mike's companion, with a grin, "if you want
to fight."

Paul, however, did not care to intrust the shirt to a stranger of so
unprepossessing an appearance.

He, therefore, attempted to pass on. But Mike, encouraged by his
reluctance, stepped up and shook his fist within an inch of Paul's nose,
calling him at the same time a coward. This was too much for Paul's
self-restraint. He dropped the shirt and pitched into Mike in so
scientific a manner that the latter was compelled to retreat, and
finally to flee at the top of his speed, not without having first
received several pretty hard blows.

"I don't think he will meddle with me again," said Paul to himself, as
he pulled down the sleeves of his jacket.

He walked back, and looked for the shirt which he had laid down before
commencing the combat. But he looked in vain. Nothing was to be seen
of the shirt or of Mike's companion. Probably both had disappeared
together.

CHAPTER XI

BARCLAY & CO.

The loss of the shirt was very vexatious. It was not so much the value
of it that Paul cared for, although this was a consideration by no means
to be despised by one in his circumstances; but it had been lent as a
pattern, and without it his mother would be unable to make Mr. Preston's
shirts. As to recovering it, he felt that there was little chance of
this. Besides, it would involve delay, and his mother could not afford
to remain idle. Paul felt decidedly uncomfortable. Again Mike Donovan
had done him an injury, and this time of a more serious nature than
before.

What should he do?

There seemed but one answer to this question. He must go back to Mr.
Preston, explain the manner in which he had lost his shirt, and ask him
for another, promising, of course, to supply the place of the one lost.
He was n