"By your dress. And there's a diamond in your shirt bosom. That must be valuable."

"It's about all I own that is valuable. It was a fool's errand that brought you here. You had better go back," and Ralston prepared to go on.

"Won't you give me a trifle, d.i.c.k?"

"Well, take that."

"A quarter?"

"Yes; it will give you some supper."

"But what shall I do for a bed?"

"Go to the station house. They'll take in an old man like you."

Before the aged man could renew his application the younger one had disappeared round the corner of the next street.

"Follow me, Chester," said Paul Perkins. "I'm going to speak to the old man."

He touched him on the shoulder.

"Are you in trouble, my friend?" he asked.

The old man, looking the picture of despondency in his ragged suit, and with his long, gray locks floating over his shoulders, turned at the words.

"Yes, sir," he said, "I am poor and in trouble, and my heart is sore."

"Is the man who has just left you related to you?"

"He is my only son."

"He doesn't seem kind to you."

"No; he cares nothing for his old father."

"How did you become so poor?"

"He is the cause. When he was turned twenty-one I was worth ten thousand dollars. He forged my name, more than once, and to save him I paid the forged notes. So it happened that I was turned out in my old age from the farm and the home that had been mine for twenty-five years, and in the end I was sent to the poorhouse."

"Then he brought all this upon you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what he is now?"

"He tells me he is in business."

"His business is carried on at the gambling house, so my young friend here a.s.sures me. You will get no help from him."

"I begin to think so. Perhaps I was foolish to leave my home, poor as it was, and come here to ask help."

"How much money will take you home?"

"Two dollars."

"Here is a ten-dollar bill. Take it, get a meal and a night's lodging and in the morning start for home. It is the best thing you can do. As for your son, you can only leave him to his own devices. A man who will treat his old father as he has treated you will never prosper."

"Thank you, sir. I will follow your advice."

"I would rather be in your position, old and poor as you are, than in his."

"Chester," added Mr. Perkins, as they walked on, "this Ralston is a more contemptible rascal than I thought. If my old father were living, I would give half the money I possess. While I had a dollar in my pocket he should share it."

"I say the same, Mr. Perkins."

When they reached the Fifth Avenue Hotel, Paul Perkins shook hands with Chester.

"Good-night," he said. "You won't see me for two weeks, perhaps, but I'll be sure to find you out when I return to the city. I hope you won't have any trouble with that scoundrel in the office."

"Thank you, Mr. Perkins, but I am afraid I shall."

"Don't mind it if you do. Remember that you will always have a friend in Paul Perkins."

CHAPTER XXIII.

CHESTER IS DISCHARGED.

"Well," said David Mullins, addressing his cousin Felix, "did you go to the Fifth Avenue Hotel last evening?"

"Yes, Cousin David."

"Did you see that man from Minneapolis and Chester?"

"Yes."

"Where did they go?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" frowned Mullins. "And why not, I should like to know?"

"Because I went to Palmer's Theater."

"So that is the way you spent the quarter I gave you?" exclaimed the bookkeeper, indignantly.