Glory swiftly told her trouble and Nick's face clouded in sympathy. Finally he suggested, "They was a old blind feller got run over on Broadway yest'day. Likely 'twas him an' that's why. 'Twas in the paper all right, 'cause I heard a man say how't somethin' must be done to stop such accidentses. Didn't hear no name but, 'course, 'twas the cap'n. Posy Jane always thought he'd get killed, runnin' round loose, like he did, without nobody but a dog takin' care." Glory had clutched Nick's shoulder and was now shaking him with what little strength seemed left to her after hearing his dreadful words. As soon as she could recover from that queer feeling in her throat, and was able to speak, she indignantly denied the possibility of this terrible thing being true. "'Tis no such thing, Nick Dodd, an' you know it! Wasn't I there, right alongside, when't happened? Wasn't I a-listenin' to them very chimes a-ringin' what he listens to every time he gets a chanst? Don't you s'pose I'd know my own grandpa when I saw him? Huh!" "_Did_--you see him, Glory Beck? How'd come them amberlance fellers let a kid like you get nigh enough to see a thing? Hey?" Glory gasped as the remembrance came that she had not really seen the injured man but that the slight glimpse of his clothing and his white hair had been, indeed, very like her grandfather's. Still, this awful thing could not, should not be true! Better far that dreaded place, Snug Harbor, where, at least, he would be alive and well cared for. "Oh, I got nigh. I got nigh enough to get knocked down my own self, an' be picked up by one them 'finest' p'licemens, what marches on Broadway. He shook me fit to beat an' set me on the sidewalk an' scolded me hard, but I didn't care, 'cause I was so glad to keep alive an' not be tooken off to a hospital, like that old man was. Huh! You needn't go thinkin' nor sayin' that was Grandpa Simon Beck, 'cause I know better. I shan't have it that 'twas, so there." Glory's argument but half-convinced herself and only strengthened Nick's opinion. However, his own mind was troubled. He felt very guilty for having guided Miss Bonnicastle to the littlest house, and the quarter-dollar earned by that treacherous deed seemed to burn through his pocket into his very flesh. Besides that coin, he had others in store, having had a successful morning, and the feeling of his affluence added to another feeling slowly awakening within him. This struggling emotion may have been generosity and it may have been remorse. Whatever it was, it prompted him to say, "Look-a-here, Glory, I'll help ye. I've got to go get somethin' t'eat, first off. Then, listen, you hain't got no money, have ye?"