“I guess you were brought up to be good,” reflected the other. “I don't think you were very bad, anyway. It must be very hard to be starving.”
“It is indeed,” said the boy with conviction.
“I never heard of anyone starving before,” went on the other. “If that happened to people often, there'd be more burglars, I guess.”
There was a pause. “What is your name?” asked the little girl. “Mine is Ethel. And now I'll tell you what we'll do. My papa's on his way home—his train gets here early in the morning. And you come up after breakfast—I'll make him wait for you. And then you can tell it all to him, and then you won't have any more troubles. Will you do that?”
“You think he won't be angry with me?” asked Samuel.
“No, I'm sure of it.”
“And he won't want to have me arrested?”
“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Ethel with an injured look. “Why, my papa goes to see people in prison, and tries to help them get out! I'll promise you, truly.”
“Very well,” said Samuel, “I'll come.”
And so they parted. And Samuel found himself out upon the street again, with the open sky above him, and a great hymn of relief and joy in his soul. He was no longer a burglar!