Sam whistled softly to himself and drummed with his fingers on the counter for a moment; then he drew a sheet of white wrapping-paper toward him and pulled a pencil from his pocket. The pencil moved rapidly over the paper for a few seconds, and after Sam had read what he had written, he crossed over to Gus’s side of the store and laid before him the following:— “$12.00. Foxboro’, Jan. 29th 18— ROBBINS & CO. Please pay Samuel Holmes Twelve Dollars out of my next month’s wages, and charge the same to my account.” “There, Gus,” said he, “sign that, and I shall begin to believe that I stand a chance of getting the money I lent you to help you out of a tight place.” “Twelve dollars!” exclaimed Gus. “I borrowed only ten.” “But I don’t lend money for nothing,” replied Sam, “and besides I must have something to pay me for waiting so long, and for the trouble I have had in collecting it.” Gus took a minute to think about it, then seized the pencil and wrote his name at the bottom of the order. Sam thrust it into his pocket and putting on his hat left the store. “I don’t run any risk by that,” said Gus to himself. “Sam will not present the order before the 1st of March, and by that time, if things work as I hope they will, I shall be a good many miles from here. What miserable luck some fellows do have in this world, anyhow. I thought I should have no trouble in getting the money on that check to-day. Where has Sam gone, I wonder?” As Gus asked himself this question an expression of alarm settled on his face. He ran quickly to the door, and looking down the street saw that Sam was just disappearing in the cigar store on the corner. The boy’s heart began to beat a little faster, for he knew now, as well as he did five minutes later, what it was that took Sam to Mr. Meyers’s place of business. He stood in the door until Sam came out, and then he retreated behind his counter and employed himself in straightening up the goods on the shelves. “Gus,” said Sam, when he had hung his hat in its accustomed place, “lie, number one thousand and one, is nailed. Meyers says he hasn’t seen you to-day.” “Suppose he hasn’t!” snapped Gus, who had been caught in so many falsehoods that he had become used to it. “Why don’t you tell the truth once in a while?” continued Sam; “say once a week, or even once a month, if you can’t stand it any oftener. You will get so, pretty soon, that nobody will believe a word you say.” “Why don’t you keep from sticking your nose into matters that don’t concern you?” exclaimed Gus, angrily. “This matter does concern me. Now, I want to know what has become of that money you drew to-day.” “It is none of your business. Do you understand that?” “Yes, I understand it,” said Sam, so quietly that Gus looked at him in surprise.