entered the room.

"Certainly. He is big enough, and knows the way. Why not let him go?"
her husband answered.

Harlis was quite proud to hear that opinion, and adopting something of
his papa's emphatic tone, he said, "Of course, I'm big enough, mamma.
Willie Nelson goes every single Sunday alone, and he isn't only two
weeks older than I am. You needn't worry a bit. I'll take Esther, too,
if you want me to. I'll take care of her."

Mamma smiled a little as she answered, "No, dear, I thank you just the
same, but Annie will take care of Esther this morning. If I let you go
alone, you must promise to go straight to Sunday-school."

"Yes, mamma," answered Harlis, very willingly.

Proudly he walked down the street. He felt sure everyone was noticing
him. One of the newsboys ran past him and shouted, "Hello, little
chap!" and grinned.

Mamma had said, "Be a good boy, Harlis," before he left home. He
couldn't help feeling how foolish it was for her always to say that,
but he excused her with the thought that it was probably mamma-like to
be a little anxious and worried about such things.

"Harlis! Harlis!"

Harlis was just entering one of the chief business streets through
which he had to pass to reach the church. He turned and saw Willie
Nelson running as fast as his little legs could carry him to catch up.

"All alone?" Willie asked.

"Yes."

"So'm I. My mamma can't come to Sunday-school. She makes me go,
though. I don't care much. Let's go this way."

"No. I can't. Mamma said for me to go just the same way I always did.
I promised."

"Did you? My, I go the way I want to. This is just as good as any," he
added cheerfully. "Let's look in here. Ain't that fine?"

It was a display in the candy shop they were looking at. Across the
window, hung from the gas jet by ribbons, was a huge candy cane.

"See that," said Willie, pulling out from his pocket a five-cent
piece. "Know what I am going to do with it?"

"Take it to Miss Beatrice for the poor little girl she told about."

"No, sir. Going to get some candy. Five cents don't get much, though.
Not the best kind. That costs money."

Harlis put his hand in his pocket and quickly pulled it out. But the
action did not escape Willis' sharp eyes.

"You got any?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Let's see. Oh, a nickel! Thought maybe it was just a penny. What a
lot ten cents would get. What kind do you like best?"

"I like chocolate best."

"Do you? Why, so do I. Say w