About eight o’clock that evening Tom Everest ran in to bring Berty some rare wild flowers that he had found in an excursion to the country.

“How is your grandmother?” he asked. “I hear she is ill.”

“Better,” whispered Berty. “Bonny is with her, but I’ve got another trouble.”

“What is it?” inquired Tom, tenderly.

They were standing in the front hall, and he bent his head low to hear what she said.

“There’s a tramp out in the wood-shed,” she went on, “and I don’t know what to do with him.”

“I’ll go put him out,” said Tom, promptly starting toward the back hall.

“No, no, I don’t want him put out. Come back, Tom. I want you to help me do something for him. Just think, he was once a doctor. He cured[196] other people, and couldn’t cure himself. He drinks like a fish.”

“Well, I’ll find a place for him to disport himself other than this,” said Tom, decidedly. “He isn’t going to spend the night in your back yard.”

“Oh, Tom, don’t be foolish. He is as quiet as a lamb. He hasn’t been drinking to-day.”

“I tell you, Berty, he’s got to come out. If you make a fuss, I’ll call Bonny down.”

“Why, Tom Everest, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your face is as red as a beet. What about the Golden Rule?”

“I beg your pardon, Berty,” said Tom, trying to look calm, “but I know more about tramps than you do. This fellow may be a thief.”

“Tom—suppose you were the thief, and the thief were you? Would you like him to talk about you that way?”

“Yes, I’d enjoy it. Come, Berty, lead the way.”

“What do you want to do with him?” asked the girl, curiously.

“Put him in the street.”

“Well, suppose he is a thief. He may rob your neighbour’s house.”

“My neighbour can look out for himself.”

“You don’t mean that,” said Berty, quickly.[197] “Please do find this man a good place for the night. Keep him out of harm.”

“But, Berty, it won’t do any good. I know those fellows. They are thoroughly demoralized. You might just as well let this one go.”

“Go where?” asked the girl, quickly.

“To his appointed place.”

The two young people stood staring at each other for a few minutes, then Berty said, seriously, “Tom Everest, you are a moral, upright man.”

Tom modestly cast his eyes to the oilcloth on the floor.

“How many other young men are there like you in the republic?” pursued Berty.

“I don’t know,” he said, demurely.

“How many tramps are there?”

“I don’t know that—thousands and thousands, I guess.”

“Well, suppose every honest young man took a poor, miserable tramp under his protection. Suppose he looked out for him, fed him, clothed him, and kept him from being a prey on society?”

“I should say that would be a most undesirable plan for the young men,” said Tom, dryly. “I’d be afraid they’d get demoralized themselves, and all turn tramps. It’s easier to loaf than to work.”

[198]

“Tom,” said Berty, firmly, “this is my tramp. I found him, I brought him home, I have a duty toward him. I can’t protect all the tramps in the union, but I can prevent this one from going on and being a worry to society. Why, he might meet some timid girl to-morrow and frighten her to death.”

“Oho! he tried to scare you, did he?” asked Tom, keenly.

“He asked me for money,” repeated Berty, “but of course I didn’t let him have it.”

“Tell me all about it.”

When she finished, Tom laughed softly. “So this is the gentleman you want me to befriend?”

“Do you feel revengeful toward him?” asked Berty.

“I’d like to horsewhip him.”

“That’s the way I felt at first. Then I said to myself, ‘Berty Gravely, you’ve got to get every revengeful feeling out of your head before you can benefit that man. What’s the use of being angry with him? You only stultify yourself. Try to find out how you can do him good.’”

“Oh, Berty,” interposed Tom, with a gesture of despair, “don’t talk mawkish, sickly sentimentality[199] to me. Don’t throw honey water over tin cans, and expect them to blossom like the rose.”

“They will blossom, they can blossom,” said Berty, persistently, “and even if they won’t blossom, take your old tin cans, clean them, and set them on end. Don’t kick them in the gutter.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Tom, helplessly. “I see you have some plan in your mind.”

This was Berty’s chance, and for a few minutes she so staggered him by her eloquence that he sank on the staircase, and, feebly propping his head on his hand, stared uninterruptedly at her.

“I’ve been thinking hard,” she said, in low, dramatic tones, “very, very hard for two hours, as I sat by G............