“I don’t spend my money foolishly.”

“It wouldn’t be foolishly.  I have sold out, and am bound to have a little fun now.”

“You never will succeed if you do business in that way.”

“Why not?”

“You will spend your money as fast as you get it.”

“Pooh! we can get a horse and chaise for the afternoon for two dollars.  That is not much.”

“Considerable, I should say.  But if you begin, there is no knowing where to leave off.  I make it a rule not to spend a single cent foolishly, and if I don’t begin, I shall never do it.”

“I don’t mean to spend all I get; only a little now and then,” persisted Tom.

“Don’t spend the first dollar for nonsense, and then you won’t spend the second.  Besides, when I have any money to spare, I mean to buy books with it for my library.”

“Humbug!  Your library!”

“Yes, my library; I mean to have a library one of these days.”

“I don’t want any library, and I mean to spend some of my money in having a good time; and if you won’t go with me, I shall go alone—­that’s all.”

“You can do as you please, of course; but I advise you to keep your money.  You will want it to buy another stock of books.”

“I shall have enough for that.  What do you say?  Will you go with me or not?”

“No, I will not.”

“Enough said; then.  I shall go alone, or get some fellow to go with me.”

“Consider well before you go,” pleaded Bobby, who had sense enough to see that Tom’s proposed “good time” would put back, if not entirely prevent, the reform he was working out.

He then proceeded to reason with him in a very earnest and feeling manner, telling him he would not only spend all his money, but completely unfit himself for business.  What he proposed to do was nothing more nor less than extravagance, and it would lead him to dissipation and ruin.

“To-day I am going to send one hundred dollars to Mr. Bayard,” continued Bobby; “for I am afraid to have so much money with me.  I advise you to send your money to your employer.”

“Humph!  Catch me doing that!  I am bound to have a good time, any how.”

“At least, send the money you owe him.”

“I’ll bet I won’t.”

“Well, do as you please; I have said all I have to say.”

“You are a fool, Bob!” exclaimed Tom, who had evidently used Bobby as much as he wished, and no longer cared to speak soft words to him.

“Perhaps I am; but I know better than to spend my money upon fast horses.  If you will go, I can’t help it.  I am sorry you are going astray.”

“What do you mean by that, you young monkey?” said Tom, angrily.

This was Tom Spicer, the bully.  It sounded like him; and with a feeling of sorrow Bobby resigned the hopes he had cherished of making a good boy of him.

“We had better part now,” added our hero, sadly.