“I don’t know that—thousands and thousands, I guess.”
“Well, suppose every honest young man took a poor, miserable tramp under his protection. Suppose he looked out for him, fed him, clothed him, and kept him from being a prey on society?”
“I should say that would be a most undesirable plan for the young men,” said Tom, dryly. “I’d be afraid they’d get demoralized themselves, and all turn tramps. It’s easier to loaf than to work.”
“Tom,” said Berty, firmly, “this is my tramp. I found him, I brought him home, I have a duty toward him. I can’t protect all the tramps in the Union, but I can prevent this one from going on and being a worry to society. Why, he might meet some timid girl to-morrow and frighten her to death.”
“Oho! he tried to scare you, did he?” asked Tom, keenly.
“He asked me for money,” repeated Berty, “but of course I didn’t let him have it.”
“Tell me all about it.”
When she finished, Tom laughed softly. “So this is the gentleman you want me to befriend?”
“Do you feel revengeful toward him?” asked Berty.