"You'll be getting another nickname soon: they'll be calling you the
Saint."
"They might do worse," replied Dick cheerfully. "Anyhow, I'd make a
cleaner saint than Curly."
"That's right!" exclaimed Jim, trying to work himself into a passion;
"you're like all the rest. Just because the chap's poor and has no
friends you're down on him. I've been through it myself."
The Angel laughed genially.
"There's something in that," he agreed. "You see, we Baxter's Court
millionaires"--Dick lived in a tiny house in Baxter's Court--"don't care
much to mix up with poor people. But Curly has a few extra points in
his favour. He's dirty, he loafs about the town cadging for coppers
instead of going to work, he thinks it big to swear, and I don't know
that he's over honest."
"Well, he hasn't asked for your company," said Jim sullenly.
"No," replied the Angel with a smile; "perhaps that's why I'm prejudiced
against him. And now let's talk about something else. How's Susie?"
"Better," said Jim, his face brightening. "The doctor says he is more
than satisfied."
Let me hasten to place something to the credit side of Jim's account.
Whatever evil habits he might have fallen into, he was a good brother.
At every opportunity he visited the hospital to cheer his sister. With
her he was always kind and bright and cheerful. For her sake he denied
himself many little pleasures, saving up his odd coppers in order to buy
some little present that would please and delight her.
As for Susie, she thought there was no one like her brother; to her he
was the one hero in the world, followed, though at a long distance, by
Dick.
On the subject of Susie, therefore, the boys could talk without
restraint; but when that was exhausted they became silent, both vaguely
realizing that, in some strange way, a barrier was rising up between
them, and that the good old times were gradually disappearing.
Both were sorry; yet the mischief appeared unavoidable. Dick tried hard
to restore matters to their former footing. He was really fond of Jim,
and could not see him drift without an effort to check him. Frequently
he waited outside the shop till his chum left, thinking to entice him
away from his fresh associates.
One night as they walked away together Curly Peters came towards them.
"You aren't going to stop, are you?" asked Dick anxiously.
"Why not? D'you think he'll give us the plague?"
"Oh, well," said Dick, "I'm off. I'd be ashamed to be seen speaking to
him."
Now this was an unfortunate remark, as it reminded Jim of an incident
which occurred only the previous evening. Mr. Broad, coming into the
shop unexpectedly, had seen Peters slinking out.
"What did that customer want, Hartland?" he asked sharply.