During the week Pep met them twice on the Bowery. He was cleanly washed, had his curly hair brushed, and wore a brand-new suit. In his altered appearance Richard hardly knew him.
"Dad's better," was the urchin's reply to the boy's question. "Uncle Doc is going to take him out of de hospital next week, so as Aunt Betty can nurse him herself. She's awful kind, she is."
"And how do you like the change?" asked Frank.
"I feel like I was dreamin'," was Pep's answer. "It don't seem natural—these clo'es and that nice home. It's like de times long ago."
"Are you selling papers yet?" asked Richard.
"No, sir. Uncle Doc says I'm to go to school in a week or so. He says I must have an eddication, and he's going to help dad get his money and invest it so it's safe, and all that. Here's yer dollar."
As Pep concluded, he suddenly dived into one of the pockets of his new trousers, and, after considerable difficulty, extricated a silver dollar.
"Never mind, Pep, you can keep it," said Richard, yet well pleased to see the urchin's evident desire to right the wrong he had done.
"No, no, it's yours," exclaimed Pep earnestly. "I won't keep it nohow. And say," he added in a whisper, "I'm awful glad you didn't say nothin' to me uncle of it. It's de first time I stole anything, and it's the last, too, and I wouldn't have Uncle Doc or Aunt Betty know it for de world."
"You can make sure they shall never hear of it," returned Richard, as, after more urging, he took the coin. "I can understand how desperate you felt that morning we met at the newspaper office, and we'll let the whole matter drop."