"I am a bell-boy in a hotel, but I am pretty well paid, and I received to-day a handsome present from a guest. It is because I am poor myself that I can sympathize with the poor. Besides, you have suffered from the meanness of the man who ruined my poor father. That alone gives you a claim upon me." "I should like to know the name of my new friend." "My name is Rupert Rollins." "I shall remember it. I hope you will come to see us sometimes." "I shall be glad to do so." "Are none of your family living?" "Yes, I have a mother and sister in Rutherford, a few miles from the city. They are pleasantly situated, and mother is earning her living as a housekeeper. But I won't intrude on you longer to-night. I will call again soon." It seemed strange to Rupert that he should again be reminded of his father's old partner. Mr. Lorimer apparently had not changed for the better since he had removed from Buffalo to New York. He was the same mean, selfish man he had always been. Yet he seemed to be prosperous, while his victims were suffering the ills of poverty. Rupert could not understand it. It was a difficult problem for him to solve. This is not surprising, for it has puzzled a great many older and wiser persons than Rupert. "Well," he reflected, "I have parted with three dollars out of ten that Mr. Onthank gave me. But no matter. The three dollars will do more good to the Bentons than to me. I can spare it, and I would not care to have it back." An idea came to Rupert. The hall bedroom which he occupied was lonely and not homelike. If he could only make his home with a refined family like the Bentons he would find it much more agreeable. If they, with the help of the eight dollars a month, which his rent cost him, could take a small flat, it would be a good arrangement all round. At present there were difficulties in the way, as they were unable to raise even the small rent which they were paying now. Still circumstances might change. He resolved to keep up the acquaintance, and watch for some way of helping Mr. Benton to a better position. Even ten dollars a week would be a poor salary for a good dry-goods salesman, yet upon this he would be able to live comfortably. Rupert had the curiosity to enter a drug store and look up the name of Mr. Lorimer in the directory. He ascertained that the dry-goods merchant lived on Lexington Avenue, between Thirty-fourth and Thirty-fifth Streets. This was a desirable location, and the house, as he afterwards learned, was a handsome, high-stoop residence, probably worth twenty-five thousand dollars. But Rupert did not envy his father's old partner. "I would rather be poor and honest," he reflected, "than live in a fine house, surrounded by luxury, gained by grinding the faces of the poor." CHAPTER XV. MR. SYLVESTER'S BIRTHDAY. The next day Rupert received a letter at the Somerset Hotel. It was signed by Frank Sylvester, and ran thus: