ber as "Paul the Peddler." Paul was proprietor of a necktie stand
below the Astor House, and was just returning home to supper.

He was a brave and manly boy, and his sympathies were always in favor of
the oppressed. He had met Phil before, and talked with him, and seeing
him in danger came to his assistance.

"What made you push me?" demanded Tim, fiercely.

"What were you going to do to him?" rejoined Paul, indicating the
Italian boy.

"I was only goin' to borrer his fiddle."

"He would have broken it," said Phil.

"You don't know how to play," said Paul. "You would have broken his
fiddle, and then he would be beaten."

"I would pay for it if I did," said Tim.

"You say so, but you wouldn't. Even if you did, it would take time, and
the boy would have suffered."

"What business is that of yours?" demanded Tim, angrily.

"It is always my business when I see a big boy teasing a little one."

"You'll get hurt some day," said Tim, suddenly.

"Not by you," returned Paul, not particularly alarmed.

Tim would have gladly have punished Paul on the spot for his
interference, but he did not consider it prudent to provoke hostilities.
Paul was as tall as himself, and considerably stronger. He therefore
wisely confined himself to threatening words.

"Come along with me, Phil," said Paul, kindly, to the little fiddler.

"Thank you for saving me," said Phil, gratefully. "The padrone would
beat me if the fiddle was broke."

"Never mind about thanks, Phil. Tim is a bully with small boys, but he
is a coward among large ones. Have you had any supper?"

"No," said Phil.

"Won't you come home and take supper with me?"

Phil hesitated.

"You are kind," he said, "but I fear the padrone."

"What will he do to you?"

"He will beat me if I don't bring home enough money."

"How much more must you get?"

"Sixty cents."

"You can play better after a good supper. Come along; I won't keep you
long."

Phil made no more objection. He was a healthy boy, and his wanderings
had given him a good appetite. So he thanked Paul, and walked along by
his side. One object Paul had in inviting him was, the fear that Tim
Rafferty might take advantage of his absence to renew his assault upon
Phil, and with better success than before.

"How old are you, Phil?" he asked.

"Twelve years."

"And who taught you to play?"

"No one. I heard the other boys play, and so I learned."

"Do you like it?"

"Sometimes; but I get tired o