"Well, we won't bet, then," said the boy. "Only, if I tell your name right, you give me ten cents. If I don't get it right, I'll give back this dime you gave me. Aint that fair?" The deacon might have been led to suspect that there was not much difference between the boy's proposal, and the iniquity of a bet, but his mind was rather possessed by the thought that here was a good chance to recover the money out of which he had been so adroitly cheated. Surely there was no wrong in recovering that, as of course he would do, for how could a ragged street boy tell the name of one who lived a hundred and fifty miles distant, in a small country town? "I'll do it," said the deacon. "You'll give me ten cents if I tell your name?" "Yes, and you'll give me back the money I give you if you can't tell." "That's it, gov'nor." "Then what's my name, my boy?" and the deacon extended his hand in readiness to receive the forfeit of a wrong answer. "Deacon John Hopkins," answered the boy, confidently. The effect on the old man was startling. He was never more surprised in his life. He stared at the boy open-mouthed, in bewilderment and wonder. "Well, I declare!" he ejaculated. "I never heard of such a thing." "Aint I right, gov'nor?" "Yes, my boy, you're right; but how on earth did you find out?" "Give me the money, and I'll tell you;" and the boy extended his hand. The deacon drew the money from his vest-pocket, and handed it to the young Arab, without remonstrance. "Now tell me, my boy, how you know'd me." The boy edged off a few feet, then lifted his venerable hat so as to display the whole of his face. "I'd ought to know you, deacon," he said; "I'm Sam Barker." "By gracious, if it aint Sam!" ejaculated the old man. "Hallo! stop, I say!" But Sam was half-way across the street. The deacon hesitated an instant, and then dashed after him, his long cloak floating in the wind, and his hat unconsciously pushed back on the top of his head. "Stop, you Sam!" he shouted. But Sam, with his head over his shoulder, already three rods in advance, grinned provokingly, but appeared to have no intention of stopping. The deacon was not used to running, nor did he make due allowance for the difficulty of navigating the crowded streets of the metropolis. He dashed headlong into an apple-stand, and suffered disastrous shipwreck. The apple-stand was overturned, the deacon's hat flew off, and he found himself sprawling on the sidewalk, with apples rolling in all directions around him, and an angry dame showering maledictions upon him, and demanding compensation for damages.