"I know I can—now," replied Pep. "And I'll be on hand at six o'clock with those letters sure. I'm very, very thankful fer what you've done, indeed I am, and I'll try to make it up to you some day, see if I don't."
"Anyway, don't steal any more," said Richard. "It isn't right, and it will land you in jail sooner or later."
"I never took noddin' before," replied Pep, "and I won't ag'in."
"I hope so, Pep."
"Will yer please tell me yer name?"
"Richard Dare."
"I'll remember it, Mr. Dare; ye're the first gentleman ever noticed me, and I'm much obliged, even if you hadn't given me a cent."
"I shall expect to see you at six o'clock or a few minutes later," was
Richard's reply, and fearful of being late at the store he hurried off.
The street urchin stood still, gazing after him. There were tears in the light blue eyes, and a choking sensation in the thin little throat.
"He must be one of them missionaries I once heard tell of," was Pep's thought. "They said they went around doing good, and that's what he's doing. Six cents for something to eat, and a dime to buy papers with! That's the best luck I've had in five years. If I don't make a quarter by nine o'clock I'm no good. And I'll never steal again—I won't—as sure as my name is Pep Clover."