ome money, yet rich men smiled complacently
over what they called "good bargains," but which in reality were little
more than thieving.

"How is your brother?" he asked, when he could trust himself to speak.

The boy's lips trembled and he began crying before he answered.

"He's pretty bad, sir; in the hospital," he whispered, brokenly. "They
think he'll die! You see, his sweetheart, Miss Jennings, died the very
day after I stole the money, and the two things, with his hard work,
knocked poor Fred out completely."

"Was Miss Jennings his sweetheart?" asked Mr. Denton in astonishment.
This was a phase of that horror that he had not even dreamed of.

"Oh, yes, they were sweethearts," said the boy, with a hysterical
giggle. "They was awfully in love, but they couldn't afford to get
married."

Mr. Denton rose from his desk and paced the office floor. The misery in
the situation was even blacker than he had realized.

"See here, boy!" he said suddenly. "Give me your mother's address, and
here's a ten-dollar bill for her. Now, go home and take care of her."

The boy's face flushed crimson as he refused the money.

"I wouldn't dare to take it," he muttered sheepishly. "She'd think I
stole it."

"Then I'll send it by mail," said Mr. Denton quickly, "and I'll tell
her at the same time that we don't mind about the three hundred. We can
forgive a boy who only stole to help a sick mother."

"Oh, sir!" cried the boy. But he could get no farther. The next second
he was shaking with a storm of sobs. The agony of his repentance had
reached its limit. Before he left the building the letter had been
posted to his mother through the pneumatic mailing tube that opened in
Mr. Denton's office.

Mr. Denton's next duty was to see his buyers. He was still smarting with
indignation over that "sweatshop" horror.

In less than an hour he had them all assembled in the receiving-room,
which was piled from end to end with the products of underpaid labor.

His speech to them was short but decidedly to the point. They were to
submit the names of the persons or firms whom they bought of, and
receive his express commands concerning all further orders.

"I cannot have the souls of these poor creatures on my conscience any
longer," he said at the conclusion of his statements. "So, if the public
still want these goods, we will make them ourselves and pay those poor
seamstresses what they are worth, besides letting them work in cleanly
surr