CHAPTER XXIV.
THE POOR ARTIST.
A week later Julius started for the West with a company of boys who went out under the auspices of the Children's Aid Society. His adventures out West will make the subject of another volume.
On the day succeeding his departure Paul was at his stand, when his attention was drawn to a man of respectable appearance, but poorly clad, and thin and emaciated, who, after a little hesitation, accosted a gentleman who was passing, in these words: "Sir, I hope you will excuse my liberty in addressing you, but I have been sick, and am without money. Can you spare me a trifle?"
"I never give to street beggars," said the gentleman, coldly.
The applicant shrank back abashed, and a look of pain and mortification overspread his features. Paul noticed it, and his heart was filled with compassion. He saw that the man was not a common street beggar; that, except under the pressure of necessity, he would not have asked help. Stepping up to him as he was slowly moving away, Paul said, gently: "Can I assist you in any way, sir?"
The other turned at the words.
"I am in great need of help," he said. "I am without money, and I have a little daughter at home who wants bread."
As he said this he came near breaking down.
"Let me help you," said Paul; and he drew a dollar from his pocket and passed it to the applicant.