He was still lingering outside when the parson reappeared and started homeward; and he sat down and watched him out of sight. He seemed cruelly hurt, and his eyes filled with tears. "_I'd_ have taken _him_ in the very first one," he said, choking down a sob; and then, as if he felt this to be unjust, he murmured over and over: "Maybe he forgot me; maybe he didn't mean it; maybe he forgot me." Perhaps an hour later, slowly and with many pauses, he drew near the door of the parson's home. There he lifted his hand three times before he could knock. "The parson's not at home," the widow Spurlock had called sharply down to him. With this the last hope had died out of his bosom; for having dwelt long on the parson's kindness to him--upon all the parson's tireless efforts to befriend him--he had summoned the courage at last to go and ask him to lend him a quarter. With little thought of whither he went, he now turned back down-town, but some time later he was still standing at the entrance of the museum. He looked up the street again. All the Leubas were coming, Tom walking, with a very haughty air, a few feet ahead. "Why don't you go in?" he said, loudly, walking up to David and jingling the silver in his pockets. "What are you standing out here for? If you _want_ to go in, why don't you _go_ in?" "Oh, Tom!" cried David, in a whisper of eager confidence, his utterance choked with a sob, "I haven't got any money." "I'd hate to be as poor as _you_ are," said Tom, contemptuously. "I'm going this evening, and to-night, and as often as I want," and he turned gayly away to join the others. He was left alone again, and his cup of bitterness, which had been filling drop by drop, now ran over. Several groups came up just at that moment. There was a pressure and a jostling of the throng. As Mr. Leuba, who had made his way up to the door-keeper, drew a handful of silver from his pocket, some one accidentally struck his elbow, and several pieces fell to the pavement. Then there was laughter and a scrambling as these were picked up and returned. But out through the legs of the crowd one bright silver quarter rolled unseen down the sloping sidewalk towards the spot where David was standing. It was all done in an instant. He saw it coming; the little crutch was set forward a pace, the little body was swung silently forward, and as the quarter fell over on its shining side, the dirty sole of a brown foot covered it.