Just outside the office from which he had been discharged, Gilbert was accosted by Tom, the boot-black.

“Shine yer boots?”

Gilbert shook his head.

“Only five cents, mister,—that’s half price.”

“That’s cheap enough,” said Gilbert; “but I’ve just lost my place, and I cannot afford to pay even that.”

“Been bounced?” asked Tom.

“Yes.”

“What for?”

Gilbert hesitated. He did not like to admit that he had been suspected of dishonesty; still he was innocent, and had nothing to be ashamed of in the matter. He accordingly related what had happened.

Tom whistled.

“Did you say the money was found in your pocket?” he asked.

“In the pocket of my overcoat,” he replied.

“And was your coat hanging up?”

“Yes.”

“Then I know how the money got there.”

“You know how the money got into my pocket!” repeated Gilbert, in surprise.

“Yes, the other boy put it there.”

“What other boy,—the boy that’s in the office?”

“Yes, his name is John.”

“How did you happen to see him do it?” asked Gilbert, eagerly.

“I went to the door to see if the book-keeper didn’t want a shine; just as I was looking in, I see that boy John go to a coat, and put a bill into the pocket. I thought it was his coat, and wondered what made him keep his money loose in that way. Did he say you put it there?”

“Yes.”

“He wanted you bounced—that’s what’s the matter.”

“You are right; he wanted the place himself, and now he’s got it.”

“Just you go back and tell the book-keeper all about it, and I’ll stand by you,” suggested Tom.

Gilbert shook his head.

“It won’t do,” he said. “John is Mr. Moore’s cousin, and I feel sure they are both in the plot; they would say you were lying.”

“Let ’em say it,” said Tom. “I’ll punch their heads if they do.”

Gilbert smiled at the zeal of his humble friend. “I am afraid that would do neither of us any good,” he said.

“Won’t you do nothin’, then?” asked Tom, disappointed. “Will you stay bounced?”

“Yes, till Mr. Sands comes back.”

“Is he the boss?”

“Yes; he is now in Washington, and may not return for several days. When he comes back, I shall want you to tell him all you saw.”

“I’ll do it,” said Tom.

“What is your name? Where can I find you if I want you?”

“I hang out at the Newsboys’ Lodge. My name is Tom Connor.”

“Thank you, Tom; I’m very glad I met you. Your testimony will be valuable to me. Don’t say anything about it to anybody else at present. I want to surprise them.”

“All right.”

“I think I will have a shine, after all,” said Gilbert, wishing to repay his new friend by a little patronage.

“I’ll make your boots shine so you can see your face in ’em,” said Tom, dropping on his knees, and proceeding to his task energetically.

“That will save me the expense of a looking-glass,” said Gilbert.

“So it will,” said Tom.

When the last was completed, Gilbert drew ten cents from his pocket, and extended it towards Tom, but to his surprise the bootblack did not offer to take it.

“Never mind,” said he, “I don’t want no pay.”

“Why not? You have earned it,” said Gilbert, wondering at the refusal.

“You’re bounced, and aint got no money to spare. I’ll wait till you’ve got your place again.”

“You are very kind,” said Gilbert, grateful for the considerate sympathy of his humble present; “but I am not so badly off as some, for I have no board to pay. You’d better take the money.”

“I’ll take five cents,” said Tom; “that’ll be enough. I’d rather work for you for nothin’ than for that other feller for full price.”

“You don’t like him, then? Did he ever employ you?”

“He kicked me yesterday; but I got even with him,” he added, in a tone of satisfaction.

“How did you get even with him?”

“I blacked his face for him,” said Tom, brandishing the brush.

Gilbert laughed.

“He didn’t fancy that, I suppose?”

“He had to go back and wash his face,” said Tom, laughing at the recollection.

“Well, Tom, good-by,” said Gilbert, preparing to go. “I’ll hunt you up when Mr. Sands gets back.”

“You’ll find me round here somewheres; this is where I stand.”

Gilbert walked away, feeling considerably more cheerful and hopeful than before his interview with Tom. Now he felt that he had at hand the means of his vindication, and his idleness would only be temporary. He was shocked at the meanness and wickedness of John and the book-keeper in forming such a conspiracy against him. He was already learning the lesson of distrust, and that is never a pleasant lesson for any of us. Fortunately, we need not distrust everybody. He must be indeed unfortunate who does not find some true friends to keep up his faith in humanity. Our hero had found one, who, though but a boot-black, was likely to be of essential service to him.

It is said that ill news travels fast. That very evening Mrs. Briggs learned that Gilbert had lost his situation, and from what cause. It happened in this way.

Randolph, chancing to be down-town, it occurred to him to call upon Gilbert. His call was made about half an hour after Gilbert had been discharged.

He entered the office, and, looking about, saw John, who appeared to be employed. He asked, in some surprise, “Does not Gilbert Greyson work here?”

“No,” answered John promptly, “not now.”

“How is that?”

“He was discharged this morning. Can I do anything for you?”

“Discharged!” exclaimed Randolph, much surprised. “What was he discharged for?”

Here Simon Moore took part in the conversation.

“Are you a friend of Gilbert Greyson?” he asked.

“Ye-es,” answered Randolph, in a tone of hesitation. “That is, he’s an acquaintance of mine.”

“If you feel interested in him, I have unpleasant news for you.”

Randolph pricked up his ears.

“What has happened?” he inquired.

“To be brief, I am afraid your friend is not strictly honest.”

“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Randolph, really amazed. “He hasn’t run off with any money, has he?”

“He isn’t very much interested in him,” the book-keeper said to himself shrewdly. “He doesn’t say anything in his defence.”

“No; but I am afraid he would if the theft had not been detected so soon.”

“What was it,—money?”

“A ten-dollar bill, which I laid casually on the desk, suddenly disappeared. It was found, after a little search, in the pocket of your friend’s coat.”

“He isn’t my friend; he is only an acquaintance,” said Randolph. “I don’t know much about him. I didn’t think he’d steal, though. Did he own up?”

“Not he; he was too brazen. Mr. Sands was absent from the city, but I did not hesitate to discharge him at once. In our business a boy must often be trusted with sums of value, and I should not feel safe in continuing to employ him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Randolph. “I wonder what father’ll say.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be going,” he continued. “I didn’t expect to hear such news of Gilbert.”

“We regret it very much,” said the book-keeper, hypocritically.

“Of course,” said Randolph. “Serves him right. He shouldn’t have made such a fool of himself.”

“That fellow don’t care much about Gilbert, John,” said Simon Moore, after Randolph’s departure.

“That’s so,” said John.

“If he has no warmer friends than that, we shan’t have any applications to take him back.”

“I hope not,” said John. “What do you think Mr. Sands will say when he finds me here?”

“If I tell him you have done your duty, and done all I required, he’ll probably keep you. You must do better than you did last time. No fooling away your time in the streets when you are sent on an errand. It won’t do.”

“There won’t be any trouble about me,” said John, confidently.