Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant

"You needn't stay, Paul."

"It is my duty, mother. We are left by Mr. Talbot in charge of the house and what it contains. Some of us ought to be here at such a time. I will take care not to get into danger."

Mrs. Hoffman was a woman and a mother, and it was with difficulty that Paul could convince her that it was his duty to remain. At length, however, she acquiesced, and agreed to go and see Mrs. Norton the next day and ask permission to remain with her on Monday night.

The next day Julius came to Paul's stand.

"Is there any news, Julius?" asked Paul.

"Nothin' much," said Julius. "Jack wants me to call up to your house and find out where the gold is kept."

"How does he think you are going to do it without my suspecting?"

"He told me to go up and ask for some old clothes. Then, if you didn't let me into the house, I was to ask for something to eat."

"A good plan." said Paul. "When are you coming?"

"To-night."

"Very well; I'll be ready for you. Is there any change in the evening?"

"No. They're comin' Monday night."

"I'll be ready for them," said Paul.

"What are you goin' to do?" asked Julius, and he fixed a pair of sharp, black eyes on Paul.

"Can I trust you, Julius?" demanded Paul, with a keen glance at the boy.

"Yes," said Julius.

"Then," said Paul, "I mean to have them arrested. They'll walk into a trap."

Julius looked thoughtful.

"Don't you like it, Julius?"

"I dunno," said the boy, slowly.

"Do you like this man Morgan?"

"I don't like him. I'm used to him."

"And you don't like the idea of his being arrested through your means?"

Julius nodded.

"I know how you feel, but I don't see how it can be helped. If he didn't rob us he would rob somebody else. Did he ever do any honest work?"

"Not as I knows on."

"How does he live?"

"By stealin' and gamblin'."

"I hope he won't teach you to follow his example, Julius."

"I don't want to be like him."

"Why not?"

"I want to be respectable, like you."

"You know it's wrong to steal."

"Yes," said Julius, but without any great depth of conviction. The fact is, stealing was too familiar to his observation to excite in him detestation or horror. But he was a sharp boy. He knew that his guardian for the last five years had spent more than half the time in confinement. Even when free he lived from hand to mouth. Julius had made up his mind that it did not pay. He saw that an honest mechanic got a good deal more comfort and enjoyment out of life than Jack, and he had a vague wish to become respectable. This was encouraging, as far as it went. Higher considerations might come by and by.

"If you want to be respectable, Julius, I'll help you," said Paul.

"Will you?" said Julius.

"Yes; you are doing me a great favor. I shall be in your debt, and that's the way I will pay you. You mustn't grow up like the man you live with."

"I don't want to."

"We'll talk about that after Monday. We shall have more time then."

"Shall I come up to-night, then?"

"Yes, come."

Julius strolled away with his blacking-box, and Paul was left to his reflections.

"He'll make a good boy if he's only encouraged," said Paul to himself. "I don't know what would have become of me if I'd been brought up by burglars like him. There's nothing like having a good mother. There ain't any excuse for a boy going wrong if he's got a good mother."

Paul was right. Our destinies are decided more than we know by circumstances. If the street boys, brought up to a familiarity with poverty, and often with vice and crime, go astray, we should pity as well as condemn, and if we have it in our power to make the conditions of life more favorable for any, it is our duty, as the stewards of our common Father, to do what we can.

It occurred to Paul that he had no old clothes to give Julius, all his wardrobe, not very extensive at the best, having been burned up in the fire which consumed his old home. As he had told Julius to come up, it was necessary that he should have something to give him, and he therefore decided to provide himself at a second-hand clothing store. He knew well enough where they were to be found. His old street companions used to go to Chatham street and Baxter street in search of clothing, and these localities, though not distinguished for fashion, are at least reasonable in their scale of prices.

A little earlier than usual Paul closed his stand, and walked across the City Hall Park and up Chatham street to a store he had frequently seen. Like most of its class, it had a large portion of its stock displayed outside, where the proprietor stood, keen-eyed and watchful, on the lookout for customers.

"Can I sell you something this afternoon?" he asked, obsequiously, as Paul halted in front of his store.

"That depends upon whether I see anything that suits me," answered Paul.

Before he had finished, the dealer had seized his arm, and, hurrying him into the store, pulled down a coat, on the merits of which he began to expatiate with voluble tongue.

"I don't want anything for myself," said Paul. "I want to buy a coat for a boy of twelve. Have you got anything of the right size?"