“Is that so? Got more than one string to your bow? That’s a good thing. You’re better off than I am. I haven’t looked around for a job yet. I thought I’d get at it tomorrow. You see I wanted to look you fellows up first before I got tied down to anything where I couldn’t get off when I wanted to. Perhaps you can put me onto something. How about it?” It was characteristic of Michael that he had not once thought of going to Endicott for the position and help offered him, since the setting down he had received from Mrs. Endicott. The time appointed for his going to Endicott’s office was long since passed. He had not even turned the matter over in his mind once since that awful night of agony and renunciation. Mrs. Endicott had told him that her husband “had done enough for him” and he realized that this was true. He would trouble him no more. Sometime perhaps the world would turn around so that he would have opportunity to repay Endicott’s kindness that he might not repay in money, but until then Michael would keep out of his way. It was the one poor little rag of pride he allowed himself from the shattering of all his hopes. Sam narrowed his eyes and looked Michael through, then slowly widened them again, an expression of real interest coming into them. “Say! Do you mean it?” he asked doubtfully. “Be you straight goods? Would you come back into de gang an not snitch on us ner nothin’?” “I’m straight goods, Sam, and I won’t snitch!” said Michael quickly. He knew that he could hope for no fellow’s confidence if he “snitched.” “Wal, say, I’ve a notion to tell yeh!” Sam attacked his ice cream contemplatively. “How would a bluff game strike you?” he asked suddenly as the last delectable mouthful of cream disappeared and he pulled the fresh cup of coffee toward him that the waiter had just set down. “What sort?” said Michael wondering what he was coming on in the way of revelation, but resolving not to be horrified at anything. Sam must not suspect until he could understand what a difference education had made in the way of looking at things. “Wal, there’s diffrunt ways. Cripple’s purty good. Foot all tied up in bloody rags, arm an’ hand tied up, a couple o’ old crutches. I could lend the clo’es. They’d be short fer yeh, but that’d be all the better gag. We cud swap an’ I’d do the gen’lman act a while.” He looked covetously at Michael’s handsome brown tweeds—“Den you goes fom house to house, er you stands on de corner—” “Begging!” said Michael aghast. His eyes were on his plate and he was trying to control his voice, but something of his horror crept into his tones. Sam felt it and hastened on apologetically—