Sam's Chance, and How He Improved It

"Yes."

"And you had to pay for the game. Don't you think, as your income is so small, that you had better stop playing billiards till you get larger pay?"

"I don't play very often," said Sam, uneasily.

"I advise you not to let Mr. Dalton know that you play at all. He would be apt to think that you were receiving too high pay, since you could afford to pay for this amusement."

"I hope you won't tell him," said Sam, anxiously.

"No, I don't tell tales about my fellow clerks."

"Then won't you lend me a dollar?" inquired Sam, returning to the charge.

"I would rather not, under the circumstances."

Sam was disappointed. He had five cents left to buy lunch with, and his appetite was uncommonly healthy.

"Why wasn't I born rich?" thought Sam. "I guess I have a pretty hard time. I wish I could find a pocket-book or something."

Sam was a juvenile Micawber, and trusted too much to something turning up, instead of going to work and turning it up himself.

However, strangely enough, something did turn up that very afternoon.

Restricted to five cents, Sam decided to make his lunch of apples. For this sum an old woman at the corner would supply him with three, and they were very "filling" for the price. After eating his apples he took a walk, being allowed about forty minutes for lunch. He bent his steps toward Wall Street, and sauntered along, wishing he were not obliged to go back to the office.

All at once his eye rested on a gold ring lying on the sidewalk at his feet. He stooped hurriedly, and picked it up, putting it in his pocket without examination, lest it might attract the attention of the owner, or some one else who would contest its possession with him.

"That's almost as good as a pocket-book," thought Sam, elated. "It's gold – I could see that. I can get something for that at the pawnbroker's. I'll get some supper to-night, even if I can't borrer any money."

Some boys would have reflected that the ring was not theirs to pawn; but Sam, as the reader has found out by this time, was not a boy of high principles. He had a very easy code of morality, and determined to make the most of his good fortune.

When he got a chance he took a look at his treasure.

There was a solitary diamond, of considerable size, set in it. Sam did not know much about diamonds, and had no conception of the value of this stone. His attention was drawn chiefly to the gold, of which there was considerable. He thought very little of the piece of glass, as he considered it.

"I'd orter get five dollars for this," he thought, complacently. "Five dollars will be a great help to a poor chap like me. I'll go round to the pawnbroker's just as soon as I get out of the store."

William Budd was rather puzzled by Sam's evident good spirits. Considering that he was impecunious enough to require a loan which he had been unable to negotiate, it was rather remarkable.

"Have you succeeded in borrowing any money, Sam?" he asked, with some curiosity.

"No," answered Sam, with truth; "I haven't asked anybody but you."

"You don't seem to mind it much."

"What's the use of fretting?" said Sam. "I'm expecting a legacy from my uncle."

"How much?"

"Five dollars."

"That isn't very large. I hope you won't have to wait for it too long."

"No, I hope not. I guess I'll get along."

"Did you get any lunch?"

"Yes, I bought three apples."

"Did they fill you up?" asked Budd, with a smile.

"There's a little room left," answered Sam, "if you'd like to try the experiment."

"There's a peanut, then."

"Thankful for small favors. I'm afraid it'll be lonely if you don't give me another."

"Take that, then; it's the last one I have."

"He's a good-natured boy, after all," thought the young clerk. "Some boys would have been offended with me for having refused to lend."

He did not understand the cause of Sam's good spirits, but thought him unusually light hearted.

When the office closed, and Sam was released from duty, he took his way at once to a small pawn office with which he had become familiar in the course of his varied career, though he had not often possessed anything of sufficient value to pawn.

The pawnbroker, a small old man, a German by birth, scanned Sam attentively, regarding him as a possible customer.

"How do you do, my boy?" he said, politely.

"Oh, I'm tiptop. Have you got any money to give away?"

"What shall I give it for?" asked the old man.

"I've got a ring here," said Sam, "that I want to pawn."

"Show it to me."

The pawnbroker started in surprise and admiration when his eye fell on the sparkling brilliant.

"Where did you get it?" he asked.

"It was left by my grandmother," said Sam, promptly.

The pawnbroker shrugged his shoulders, not believing a word of the story.

"Isn't it a nice ring?" asked Sam.

"So so," answered the old man. "I have seen much better. How much do you want for it?"