bbard's rascality. A dollar and a quarter seems
a small sum, but if you are absolutely penniless it might as well be
a thousand. Suppose he should be arrested and the story get into the
papers? How his stepmother would exult in the record of his disgrace!
He could anticipate what she would say. Peter, too, would rejoice, and
between them both his father would be persuaded that he was thoroughly
unprincipled.

"What have you got in your valise?" asked the clerk.

"Only some underclothing. If there were anything of any value I would
cheerfully leave it as security. Wait a minute, though," he said, with a
sudden thought. "Here is a gold pencil! It is worth five dollars; at any
rate, it cost more than that. I can place that in your hands."

"Let me see it."

Carl handed the clerk a neat gold pencil, on which his name was
inscribed. It was evidently of good quality, and found favor with the
clerk.

"I'll give you a dollar and a quarter for the pencil," he said, "and
call it square."

"I wouldn't like to sell it," said Carl.

"You won't get any more for it."

"I wasn't thinking of that; but it was given me by my mother, who is now
dead. I would not like to part with anything that she gave me."

"You would prefer to get off scot-free, I suppose?" retorted the clerk,
with a sneer.

"No; I am willing to leave it in your hands, but I should like the
privilege of redeeming it when I have the money."

"Very well," said the clerk, who reflected that in all probability Carl
would never come back for it. "I'll take it on those conditions."

Carl passed over the pencil with a sigh. He didn't like to part with it,
even for a short time, but there seemed no help for it.

"All right. I will mark you paid."

Carl left the hotel, satchel in hand, and as he passed out into the
street, reflected with a sinking heart that he was now quite penniless.
Where was he to get his dinner, and how was he to provide himself with a
lodging that night? At present he was not hungry, having eaten a hearty
breakfast at the hotel, but by one o'clock he would feel the need of
food. He began to ask himself if, after all, he had not been unwise in
leaving home, no matter how badly he had been treated by his stepmother.
There, at least, he was certain of living comfortably. Now he was in
danger of starvation, and on two occasions already he had incurred
suspicion, once of being concerned in a murder, and just now of passing
counterfeit money. Ou