afternoon.

We put Crab on a comfortable bed of rags in an old shoe box, and
then strolled, hand-in-hand, across that most delightful of New York
breathing-places, Stuyvesant Square.

"Uncle Teddy!" exclaimed Billy with ardor; "I wish I could do something
to show you how much I think of you for being so good to me. I don't
know how. Would it make you happy if I was to learn a hymn for you--a
smashing big hymn--six verses, long metre, and no grumbling?"

"No, Billy; you make me happy enough just by being a good boy."

"Oh, Uncle Teddy!" replied Billy decidedly, "I'm afraid I can't do it.
I've tried so often and I always make such an awful mess of it."

"Perhaps you get discouraged too easily--"

"Well, if a savings-bank won't do it, there ain't any chance for a boy.
I got father to get me a savings-bank once and began being good just as
hard as ever I could for three cents a day. Every night I got 'em, I
put 'em in reg'lar, and sometimes I'd keep being good three whole days
running. That made a sight of money, I tell you. Then I'd do something,
ma said, to kick my pail of milk over, and those nights I didn't get
anything. I used to put in most of my marble and candy money, too."

"What were you going to do with it?"

"It was for an Objeck, Uncle Teddy. That's a kind of Indian, you know,
that eats people and wants the gospel. That's what pa says, anyway; I
didn't ever see one."

"Well, didn't that make you happy--to help the poor little heathen
children?"

"Oh, does it, Uncle Teddy? They never got a cent of it. One time I was
good so long I got scared. I was afraid I'd never want to fly my kite
on a roof again or go anywhere where I oughtn't, or have any fun. I
couldn't see any use of going and saving my money to send out to the
Objecks if it was going to make good boys of 'em. It was awful hard for
me to have to be a good boy, and it must be worse for them 'cause they
ain't used to it. So when there wasn't anybody upstairs I went and shook
a lot of pennies out of my chimney and bought ever so much taffy and
marbles and popcorn. Was that awful mean, Uncle Teddy?"

The question involved such complications that I hesitated. Before I
could decide what to answer Billy continued:

"Ma said it was robbing the heathen, and didn't I get it? I thought if
it was robbing I'd have a cop after me."

"What's a 'cop'?"

"That's what the boys call a policeman, Uncle Teddy; and then I should
be taken away and put in an a