They had gone but a short distance, when Guly's attention was attracted by a gathering crowd upon the opposite side of the way, and, with a natural feeling of curiosity, he hastened across the street, accompanied by Arthur, to discover the cause of the excitement. What was his astonishment, to see extended upon the pavement, face downwards, while with his long arms he swept his crutches around him, like a pair of oars, to keep his tormentors, the boys, away, his old acquaintance, the dwarf. He had evidently fallen down, and in his descent had dropped his greasy cap, from which had rolled a few of his precious picayunes. He either was unable to rise, or else would not do so, lest while he was engaged in righting himself, the boys should rob him of his scattered silver. They had gathered about him at his fall, but he had swung his long crutches so dexterously around him, keeping his one eye fixed gloatingly upon the bits of change meanwhile, that not one dared to approach him closer. The moment Guly's eye fell upon him, he hastened forward with an exclamation of pity upon his lips, and in spite of the crutches, he stepped behind the unfortunate old man, and raised him to his feet. Without hesitation he commanded the boys to leave the picayunes untouched, placed the cane properly in the dwarf's hand, then restored to him the cap, and its scattered contents, at the same time adding a trifle from his own purse, to the little stock. "Hih, hih!" chuckled the little man, for the first time looking up, as he received his treasure; "hih, hih." His one eye, with its odious expression, lit suddenly upon Guly's face, and became illuminated instantly with a new light. It regarded him earnestly, and though he stepped back to avoid the gaze, the immense head, with that one eye burning in it, turned still toward him, on the slim, wrinkled neck. "You pick me up, Monsieur?" Guly smiled, and nodded. "Hih, hih; I am obliged to you; will you keep the boys away till I get started?" "They shall not touch you." Taking one more earnest look of Guly, he threw his weight upon his long crutches, and swung away between them, with the skirts of his coat, as usual, trailing behind him. "You have met this miserable object every morning, for more than a month, now, Guly, and he has always begged for alms, and you have never refused. How do you know whether he is worthy or not?" said Arthur. "His deformity is sufficient to testify to that, brother." "With your salary, I can't imagine how you can afford it." "A picayune a day is a mere trifle; I save for him what I might otherwise spend in selfish indulgence." "Well, charity begins at home. _I_ can't afford to be so benevolent." "Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord," replied Guly, with a smile, as they entered the store. CHAPTER XXII. "I love that soul so nobly proud, That misery cannot blight; The soul that braves the jeering crowd, And sternly claims its right." Anon.