Let me hasten to place something to the credit side of Jim’s account. Whatever evil habits he might have fallen into, he was a good brother. At every opportunity he visited the hospital to cheer his sister. With her he was always kind and bright and cheerful. For her sake he denied himself many little pleasures, saving up his odd coppers in order to buy some little present that would please and delight her. As for Susie, she thought there was no one like her brother; to her he was the one hero in the world, followed, though at a long distance, by Dick. On the subject of Susie, therefore, the boys could talk without restraint; but when that was exhausted they became silent, both vaguely realizing that, in some strange way, a barrier was rising up between them, and that the good old times were gradually disappearing. Both were sorry; yet the mischief appeared unavoidable. Dick tried hard to restore matters to their former footing. He was really fond of Jim, and could not see him drift without an effort to check him. Frequently he waited outside the shop till his chum left, thinking to entice him away from his fresh associates. One night as they walked away together Curly Peters came towards them. "You aren’t going to stop, are you?" asked Dick anxiously. "Why not? D’you think he’ll give us the plague?" "Oh, well," said Dick, "I’m off. I’d be ashamed to be seen speaking to him." Now this was an unfortunate remark, as it reminded Jim of an incident which occurred only the previous evening. Mr. Broad, coming into the shop unexpectedly, had seen Peters slinking out. "What did that customer want, Hartland?" he asked sharply. Jim felt cornered for a moment, but replied steadily,— "He wanted to know if there was a chance of getting a paper job." This was a lie; but I warned you Jim had sadly deteriorated, and he dared not tell his master that the boy was his friend. Thinking of this, he turned on Dick savagely, saying,— "He’s good enough for me if he isn’t for you." "All right," exclaimed Dick; "every one to his taste. Some people I know have a lot of taste—all bad. Good-night, old man. Hope you’ll have a bath when you get home." "My stars!" cried Curly, as Dick went off; "ain’t we getting proud? Washing and charing must be goin’ up. It ought to make you feel taller, Jimmy, talking to a toff like that." "Keep your chaff to yourself," said Jim crossly. "Dick Boden’s a heap better than you or me." Curly opened his eyes wide, but being a wise youth in his generation, and having a particular object in view, he let the subject drop. "You couldn’t lend me another sixpence, Jimmy, I suppose?" he said after a time. "No," said Jim shortly, "I couldn’t; and what’s more, I’d like the last one back." "You shall have it in a few days, but I’ve been awfully unlucky lately. I’ll pay you back, never fear. I wouldn’t like you to have to borrow from the old man’s till; it’s dangerous." "Borrow from the till? What do you mean?"