"Are you going back to the room, Sam?" he inquired. "No; I'm going to the theater. Won't you go, too?" "No; I don't want to give up my studies." "One evening won't matter." "Perhaps not, but I will wait till some other time." "You must have a sweet time working all day, and studying all night," said Sam, rather contemptuously. "Not quite all night," answered Henry, smiling. "You don't take any time for amusement." "I am looking forward to the future. I want to rise in the world." "So do I; but I ain't going to kill myself with work." "I don't think you ever will, Sam. I'll be willing to insure you from dying in that way." Sam laughed. "I guess you're right there," he said. "Well, if you won't go, I'll leave you. I s'pose you'll be asleep when I get home, so good-night." "Good-night, Sam," said Henry, good-humoredly. "I wonder how soon he'll be wanting to borrow money again?" he thought. The next morning, when Sam reached the office, he found William Budd glancing at the _Herald._ "You are late," said the young clerk. "I was out late last evening," said Sam, apologetically. "At a fashionable party, I suppose?" "Not exactly. I was at the theater." "I thought you were out of money yesterday." "Oh, I raised a little." "It seems to me you are rather extravagant for your means." "I guess I'll come out right," said Sam, carelessly. "By the way, you haven't found a diamond ring, have you?" asked Budd, his eyes fixed upon the paper. Sam was startled, but his fellow clerk was scanning the paper, and did not observe his embarrassment. "What makes you ask that?" Sam inquired. "Nothing; only you'd be in luck if you did." "Why would I?" "Here's an advertisement from a man who has lost such a ring, offering twenty-five dollars reward to the finder." "Twenty-five dollars!" ejaculated Sam, in excitement. "Does he say where he lost it?" "Supposed to have been lost in Wall Street." "Wall Street!" repeated Sam. "It must be the one I found," he thought. "Yes; I don't suppose there's much chance of his getting it back again." "Let me see the advertisement," said Sam. "There it is," said Budd, handing him the paper. Sam read it carefully, and impressed the address upon his memory--No. 49 Wall Street. The advertiser was John Chester. "Are you going out to look for it?" asked William, in joke. "I guess there wouldn't be much show for me. Probably somebody has picked it up already." "No doubt." "Shall I go to the post office?" "Of course not till after you have swept the office. Did you expect me to do that?"