They traveled downtown on the top of a bus, missing very little of the brilliant pageant set before them. The holiday spirit was in the air and the very city itself seemed sensible of the season’s significance. The sunlight shone dazzlingly on patches of wet pavement, above the roofs clouds of white steam billowed up against a blue sky and everywhere was color and life. The windows of the shops were gorgeous with holiday displays and on all sides the scarlet of holly berries and the green of fir and pine met the eager eyes of the boys. The street was a solid stream of moving vehicles, dashing motor cars, lumbering busses, sedate carriages, rattling delivery wagons. Nickel and brass and shining varnish caught the sunlight. It was three days to Christmas, but one might have thought from the hurry and bustle of the busy shoppers that that important occasion was due no later than to-morrow. Toby was very thrilled and very excited by the time they disembarked, seemingly at the risk of their lives, at Thirty-fourth Street, and Arnold, although far more accustomed to the inspiring scene, found himself in a truly holiday mood. Arnold was postponing his own shopping until the next day in order that Toby, who was to continue on to Greenhaven in the afternoon, might have the services of his advice and assistance. Toby had ruefully confided to his chum that his capital was small and Arnold had decided that Fifth Avenue was not the place for purchasing. So, when they had gained the sidewalk in safety by what appeared to Toby nothing short of a miracle, they started away along the cross streets. They didn’t make very rapid progress, though, for Toby found something fascinating in nearly every window, and more than once Arnold discovered himself alone and had to retrace his steps and drag the other away from rapt contemplation of a marvelous display. Toby’s unbounded admiration and wonder pleased Arnold, and the latter thoroughly enjoyed exhibiting the marvels of his city to his friend. They were about midway of the block when Arnold missed Toby for perhaps the sixth time. He turned back, but none of the near-by windows reflected the countenance of T. Tucker. Arnold was about reaching the conclusion that Toby was lost when he suddenly caught a glimpse of that youth standing by the curbing. Arnold fought his way back to him. Toby was talking to a seedy looking man whose unshaven face and watery, shifty eyes inspired Arnold with anything but confidence. But he reached the scene too late, for Toby was already returning his purse to his pocket when Arnold seized his arm. “Don’t be a chump, Toby,” he said impatiently. “That fellow’s got more money right now than you have. How much did you give him?” “Only a quarter,” replied Toby gravely. “He hasn’t had anything to eat for two days, and his wife’s sick and――”