"Is your husband to work?"
"No; he hasn't had any work for several months. Wait; I'll call him."
Mrs. Snocks went to a rear window and called to somebody in the courtyard below. Soon Mr. Snocks appeared. He was an iron molder, but looked far from healthy.
"Stole from your stand," he said, after listening to his wife and Nelson. "This is the worst yet."
"It's Billy Darnley's fault," put in the wife.
"He hasn't any business to go with Billy, Mary. That rascal will lead him to prison."
"You're right there," said our hero.
"I don't know what to do," went on Mr. Snocks, to Nelson. "I'd square this up, only I'm out of work, and haven't more than two or three dollars to my name."
"We have three dollars and twenty-five cents," said the wife. "You can have that." And she brought out a well-worn pocketbook.
Her manner touched the newsboy to the heart.