"Wake him up, do you mean?"
"No, poor little chap! Let him sleep. I'll put fifty cents in his pocket, and when he wakes up he won't know where it came from."
"That's a good idea, Dick. I'll do the same. All right."
"Here's the money. Put mine in with yours. Don't wake him up."
Dick walked softly up to the match boy, and gently inserted the money—one dollar—in one of the pockets of his ragged vest.
Mark was so fast asleep that he was entirely unconscious of the benevolent act.
"That'll make him open his eyes in the morning," he said.
"Unless somebody relieves him of the money during his sleep."
"Not much chance of that. Pickpockets won't be very apt to meddle with such a ragged little chap as that, unless it's in a fit of temporary aberration of mind."