Bernard,” said Walter Cunningham, as they sat together in a handsome apartment at the Brevoort House, “I feel that I have not done as well by you as I should.”

“You have been a kind friend to me, Mr. Cunningham. I have lacked for nothing since I have been with you. I think you do yourself injustice.”

“That is true, but suppose anything should happen to me, how would you fare?”

“We won’t think of that, Walter. You are a young man. You are likely to live for many years.”

“So I hope,” said the young Englishman, smiling. “Life is sweet to me, and I have something to live for, especially now that I have you. But I feel that I ought to make a provision for you, to place your future beyond a contingency.”

Bernard did not reply. He waited for Mr. Cunningham to finish what he had to say.

“I shall therefore go to my banker’s this morning, and turn over to you the sum of fifteen thousand dollars. It is not all I intend to do for you, but it will prevent your experiencing inconvenience in the event of any sudden accident to me.”

“Fifteen thousand dollars!” repeated Bernard, in astonishment. “Why, that will make me rich. How can I thank you for your great kindness?”

“I look upon you as a brother, Bernard. With the affection I feel for you I could not allow you to run the risk of poverty and destitution. To be sure, you are young and a boy of capacity, but for a time you might be in trouble.”

That very morning Mr. Cunningham took Bernard to the office of his banker in Wall Street, and transferred the sum he had mentioned to Bernard’s account.

“I advise you to keep your money for the present in the hands of my good friends here, unless you should prefer to deposit it with your old guardian, Mr. McCracken.”

“I would not trust Mr. McCracken,” said Bernard, “but I should like before I leave the city to pay him a visit.”

Walking down Broadway in the afternoon Bernard was treated to a surprise. Marching in front of him with a slow and weary step was a thick-set man of over fifty, sandwiched between two advertising boards, bearing in large capitals these words:

USE SWEETLAND’S PILLS.

There was something familiar in the figure, but from a rear view Bernard could not immediately place it. However, the man presently turned partly round, showing his side face, and Bernard was startled by a sudden recognition.

It was Professor Puffer!

Yes, the celebrated professor, author (by his own account) of several large and elaborate works on the antiquities of the old world, had actually sunk so low as to become a sandwich man, earning the miserable pittance of fifty cents a day.

Bernard at once in some excitement imparted his astonishing discovery to his companion.

“What! Is that your Professor Puffer?” asked Cunningham in wonder. “How have the mighty fallen!”

“He was never so mighty as I supposed,” said Bernard. “I feel quite sure that he was a humbug and no professor at all.”

“I am inclined to agree with you. I don’t think any real professor would ever be reduced to such shifts as this. What are you going to do? Shall you make yourself known to your old companion?”

“I think I would like to do so,” said Bernard thoughtfully. “He may be able to give me some information, concerning my guardian, for instance that may be of service to me.”

“Perhaps you are right. At any rate, it will do no harm, unless you are afraid that the professor will try to get you into his power again.”

Bernard smiled as he regarded with complacency his own well knit figure—he was three inches taller than when he had been a fellow passenger of the professor on the ship Vesta.

“If he should try to get me into his power, will you stand by me, Mr. Cunningham?” he said.

“Yes; but I fancy that you are quite able to fight your own battles.”

Bernard stepped forward until he was in a line with Professor Puffer. Then in a clear, distinct voice, he said, “Professor Puffer!”

The sandwich man turned quickly, and regarded Bernard with surprise. The latter had not only grown, but he was much better dressed than when the professor parted with him.

“Who are you?” he demanded, looking bewildered.

“Don’t you remember your old companion on the Vesta?”

“Bernard Brooks!” ejaculated Professor Puffer in deep amazement.