"Are you sure you know Canal Street, yourself?" said the old man, perplexed. "They'd ought to know at the hotel." "I'd ought to know too. That's where my store is." "Your store!" ejaculated the old man, fixing his eyes upon his ragged companion, who certainly looked very little like a New York merchant. "In course. Don't I keep a cigar store at No. 95?" "I hope you don't smoke yourself," said the deacon (for he was a deacon), solemnly. "Yes, I do. My constitushun requires it." "My boy, you are doing a lasting injury to your health," said the old man, impressively. "Oh, I'm tough. I kin stand it. Better give me a dime, and let me show yer the way." The deacon was in a hurry to get to Canal Street, and after some hesitation, for he was fond of money, he drew out ten cents, and handed it to his ragged companion. "There, my boy, show me the way. I should think you might have done it for nothing." "That aint the way we do business in the city, gov'nor." "Well, go ahead, I'm in a hurry." "You needn't be, for _this_ is Canal Street," said the boy, edging off a little. "Then you've swindled me," said the deacon, wrathfully. "Give me back that ten cents." "Not if I know it," said the boy, mockingly. "That aint the way we do business in the city. I'm goin to buy two five-cent cigars with that money." "You said you kept a cigar-store yourself," said the deacon, with sudden recollection. "You mustn't believe all you hear, gov'nor," said the boy, laughing saucily. "Well now, if you aint a bad boy," said the old man. "What's the odds as long as you're happy?" said the young Arab, carelessly. Here was a good chance for a moral lesson, and the deacon felt that it was his duty to point out to the young reprobate the error of his ways. "My young friend," he said, "how can you expect to be happy when you lie and cheat? Such men are never happy." "Aint they though? You bet I'll be happy when I'm smokin' the two cigars I'm goin to buy." "Keep the money, but don't buy the cigars," said the deacon, religion getting the better of his love of money. "Buy yourself some clothes. You appear to need them." "Buy clo'es with ten cents!" repeated the boy, humorously. "At any rate, devote the money to a useful purpose, and I shall not mind being cheated out of it. If you keep on this way, you'll end in the gallus." "That's comin' it rather strong, gov'nor. Hangin's played out in New York. I guess I'm all right." "I'm afraid you're all wrong, my boy. You're travellin' to destruction." "Let's change the subject," said the street boy. "You're gittin' personal, and I don't like personal remarks. What'll you bet I can't tell your name?" "Bet!" ejaculated the deacon, horrified. "Yes, gov'nor. I'll bet you a quarter I kin tell your name." "I never bet. It's wicked," said the old man, with emphasis.