“Never mind. Tell me, Sam. I think I must know.” “He kep a gamein’ den—” “Oh, Sam!” Michael’s voice was stricken, and his great athletic hand gripped Sam’s hard skinny one, and Sam in the darkness gripped back. “I knowed you’d feel thet way,” he mourned as if the fault were all in his telling. “I wisht I hadn’t ’a tole yer.” “Never mind, Sam, you couldn’t help it, and I suppose I wouldn’t have known the difference myself if I hadn’t gone away. We mustn’t judge Buck harshly. He’ll see it the other way by and by.” Sam straightened perceptibly. There was something in this speech that put him in the same class with Michael. He had never before had any qualms of conscience concerning gambling, but now he found himself almost unawares arrayed against it. “I guess mebbe!” he said comfortingly, and then seeking to change the subject. “Say, is dat guy in dere goin’ along to de farm?” “Who?” “Why, dat ike you lef’ in de room. Is he goin’ down ’long when wees go?” “Oh, Will French! No, Sam. He doesn’t know anything about it yet. I may tell him sometime, but he doesn’t need that. He is studying to be a lawyer. Perhaps some day if he gets interested he’ll help do what I want for the alley, and all the other alleys in the city; make better laws and see that they’re enforced.” “Laws!” said Sam in a startled voice. “What laws!” Laws were his natural enemies he thought. “Laws for better tenement houses, more room and more windows, better air, cleaner streets, room for grass and flowers, pure milk and meat, and less crowding and dirt. Understand?” It was the first time Michael had gone so deep into his plans with Sam, and he longed now to have his comradeship in this hope too. “Oh, sure!” said Sam much relieved that Michael had not mentioned laws about gambling dens and pickpockets. Sam might be willing to reform his own course in the brilliant wake of Michael but as yet he had not reached the point where he cared to see vice and dishonesty swept off the globe. They went slowly back to the white room to find Will French leading a chorus of small urchins in the latest popular melody while they kept time with an awkward shuffle of their ill-shod feet. Sam growled: “Cut it out, kids, you scratch de floor,” and Will French subsided with apologies. “I never thought of the floor, Endicott. Say, you ought to have a gymnasium and a swimming pool here.” Michael laughed. “I wish we had,” he declared, “but I’d begin on a bath-room. We need that first of all.” “Well, let’s get one,” said Will eagerly. “That wouldn’t cost so much. We could get some people to contribute a little. I know a man that has a big plumbing establishment. He’d do a little something. I mean to tell him about it. Is there any place it could be put?”