William replied that he had no real friends but old Thomas Burton the watchman, and his wife. Mrs. Bradley, the market-woman, had been very kind to him too, but it was the old watchman who took him to church, and when he was troubled about the purse, had taken it to the right owner. The sounds of swift footsteps were now heard, and a bright-looking boy of fourteen came bustling in at the door. "Father," he said, "grandfather wants me to take a drive with him; can I go?"
"Stay a moment first, George," answered Mr. Stewart. "I believe you lost your purse on Christmas eve, at least I heard you lamenting something of the kind. You recovered it, and you said you wished to reward the finder; did you ever do so?"
"No, father," replied George, "I did not. An old watchman who brought it told grandfather that a shoemaker's boy had found it, but was then so ill that it was most likely he would never recover, and so—"
"And so, George, you never inquired whether he lived or died," said Mr. Stewart. "That is the true spirit of the world, to care only for self. George, I believe this is the boy who found it; thank him, at least, if you do not reward him."
"I do not want any reward for giving to another that which was his own," said the little shoemaker; "but if Master George chooses, he can give something to little Ned Graham, who needs it very much."
"And who is little Ned Graham?" inquired Mr. Stewart, smiling.
Our hero explained in as few words as possible; at the close of which narration Mr. Stewart, making no remark, turned once more to his easel, and George conducted the little shoemaker to the room where he was to leave the shoes. The old lady was pleased, and William, having received the money for them, ran swiftly homeward, never once dreaming of the good that was in store for him.