William thanked the journeyman again and again, and was more than ever grieved that one who knew so well how to be kind should be so resolute in his practice of evil, and pursue a path which he had often confessed he knew to be a wrong one.

There was an unusual press of work, so that for several days he could not go for the shoes left at Professor Stewart’s.  No message concerning them having been sent, William was a second time despatched to No. 200 ——­ street.

Once more he rang the bell at the basement door; the same voice bade him enter; and, seated behind a pile of books, with a pair of gold spectacles on his nose, was the same gentleman who had given him the shilling and the lecture on falsehood.  He was writing so busily that our hero was obliged to stand for a moment or two unquestioned; but at last he looked up, and in seeming amazement at the presence of a stranger.  “How long have you been here, and what do you want?” was the abrupt salutation.

“I brought a pair of shoes here some days ago,” was the reply; “Mr. Walters sent me to-day to see if they would suit, as he did not receive any message from the lady.”

“Shoes, shoes,” said the gentleman, musingly; “I have some recollection about them; yes, and your face too; you told me about the little boy to whom you gave the shilling.  Well, the little ragamuffin came, and I believe he is not unworthy.  But whether he is or not, he is very poor; and if we try to serve none but the worthy, I am afraid a great many would suffer.  He is too young to do much, so I told him to come here once every week, and we will give him something.”

“The shoes, sir,” asked William; “what answer am I to take about the shoes?”

“They were for a lady, I have some indistinct recollection,” rejoined the gentleman smiling.  “They are lying just where you put them down; only see what a memory I have; I have not once thought of them since.  Pull that bell, if you please; somebody will come and tell you all about it.”

Our little shoemaker did as he was desired, and an elderly serving-woman almost immediately answered the summons.

“Is Mrs. Stewart at home, Katie?” asked the gentleman, dipping his pen in the ink in order to resume his writing.

“No, sir; she has gone up to your son’s.  One of the children is sick, and she said it was likely she would have to stay all night,” was the reply.

“I think, boy, your best plan will be to go there with the shoes,” said the professor; “it is not far:  just keep on up this street until you find yourself almost to the country; you will there see a house built in cottage style, standing back from the street in an enclosure:  my son, Mr. Stewart, lives there; ask for Mrs. Stewart and tell her of the shoes; she will decide whether or not to keep them.”

He turned once more to his writing and William was obliged to depart.  Although the day was dark and gloomy, he was too glad to have an excuse for extending his walk; and caring neither for the cold wind that rushed by at intervals, and sent the few leaves that until now had clung to the lindens whirling in the air, nor that the short day was approaching to its close, he walked on rapidly, and was soon at the point of destination.