"But perhaps you did not soar the other time because you had over-worn your wings. Perhaps they have grown strong and developed during their rest. Many of us used to believe they would carry you far up. Why not try? You have nothing to lose. And if you succeed--then the dream you have told me of will begin to come true." For several paces David was silent. "I, too, have thought of this. As you say, there is nothing to lose. I shall try." "Why not take an idea in the field of your dream?" she pursued eagerly. "Why not write a story illustrating how the criminal is to be saved?--say, the story of a boy amid evil surroundings that urged him toward a criminal life; the boy to come under good influence, and to develop into a splendid citizen." "That may be just the idea," said David. They discussed the suggestion warmly the remainder of their walk to the car. A little farther on, as they were coming out upon the Bowery, the Mayor of Avenue A swayed into view. Astonishment leaped into his pink face when he saw who David's companion was. His silk hat performed a wide arc, and David had a sense that backward glances over the Mayor's shoulders were following them. "And you really believe in me?" David asked, as Helen's car drew to a stop. "I do--and I believe all the other things I have said." She gave the answer with a steady look into his eyes and with a firm pressure of her hand. "I hope you'll not be disappointed!" he breathed fiercely, exultantly. He retreated to the sidewalk and standing there, the clanging of the elevated trains beating his ears, he watched the slow passage of her car through the press of jostling, vituperating trucks, volleying over the cobble-stones, till it disappeared beyond Cooper Union. Then he turned away, and strode the streets--chin up, shoulders back, eyes straightforward--powered with such a hope, such a determination to do, as he had not known since his first post-college days. Perhaps he would conquer the future. He would try. Yes ... he _would_ conquer it! CHAPTER IV PUCK MASQUERADES AS CUPID David had suggested school to Tom, but the boy would none of it. "What, set in one o' dem agony seats, biffin' your brain wid books, a skinny lady punchin' holes t'rough you wid her eyes! Not for mine, pard!" A job was what he wanted, and David at length concluded that after Tom had been tamed by the discipline of a few months of regular work, he would perhaps be more amicable toward education.