Billy," I said.

"Oh!" replied the boy, with a touch of scorn in his voice, "that there
bloke's a-going to learn me, not you!"

"What! does Smith teach at the ragged school, then?"

"In course he do! Do you suppose I'd go else?"

And off he trotted, leaving me utterly bewildered.

Jack Smith teaching in a ragged school! Jack Smith wearing a pair of
boots that he knew were stolen! What could I think?

At any rate, I was resolved to be no party to Billy's dishonesty. At
any cost, since I had not the heart to deliver up the culprit to
justice, I must see that the victim was repaid. He might never have
noticed the theft; but whether or no, I should have no rest till his
loss had been made good.

It was no time to mince matters. My own funds, as the reader knows,
were in a bad state. I owed far more than I could save in half a year.
But I had still my uncle's half-sovereign in my pocket, which I had
hitherto, despite all my difficulties, kept untouched. An emergency had
now arisen, thought I, when surely I should be justified in using it.
As long as I remained a party to Billy's dishonesty I was, I felt,
little better than a thief myself, and that I could not endure, however
bad in other respects I might have been.

I went straight to Trotter's shop. A jovial, red-faced woman stood at
the door, just about to shut up for the night.

"I want to see Mr Trotter," said I.

"Mrs Trotter, you mean, I suppose?" said the woman. "I'm the lady."

"Can I speak to you for a minute?" I said.

"Yes--half an hour if you like. What is it?"

"It's something private."

"Bless us, are you going to offer to marry me, or what?" exclaimed she;
"come, what is it?"

"Have you--that is, did you--the fact is, I don't know whether you
happen to have missed a pair of boots," I said, falteringly.

She made a grab at my arm.

"So you're the thief, are you? A nice trade you've started at, young
master, so I can tell you!"

"Oh," I cried, in the utmost alarm and terror, "you're quite wrong, you
are indeed. I never touched them--I only--I--I know who did, that's
all."

Mrs Trotter still held me fast.

"Oh, you know who did, do you?"

"Yes--he's a--" I was going to say "shoeblack," but I stopped myself in
time, and said, "a little boy."

She released her grasp, greatly to my relief, and waited for me to go
on.

"And I really don't think he knows any better," said I, recovering my
confidence.

"Well," she said, e