“Yes, I believe I have grown taller.”

“And more manly.  I need not ask if you are well.  Your appearance answers that question.”

“I was never better.”

“And you enjoy your work?”

“Immensely.  But when did you reach the city?”

“This morning.  As you see, I have lost no time in looking you up.”

“Shall you stay here now?”

“Yes,” answered Gale, gravely; “my poor uncle is dead.  His sickness was a painful one, and he is better off.”

“I am glad you are to be in the city.  I hope to see you often.”

“You will, if I can have my way.  I have hired a handsome and roomy flat on Madison Avenue, and I expect you to come and live with me.”

“I shall be delighted to do so if you will let me pay my share of the expenses.”

“You will pay me with your company.  I will receive no other pay.  My uncle has left me all his property—­at least a hundred thousand dollars—­and I was rich before.”

“I will certainly accept your offer, since I am sure you will like to have me.”

“You were teaching a boy, I believe?”

“Yes; but he is so well advanced now that he does not need my assistance.  I am free to accept your kind offer.”

“Call upon me this evening, and arrange to move to-morrow.  I am very lonely, and want young and cheerful company.”

When Andy called upon his friend in the evening he found him sumptuously lodged.  The next evening he moved in.

“What news from Arden, Andy?” asked Mr. Gale.

“Nothing much, except that Squire Carter is expecting to foreclose the mortgage on father’s farm next week.”

“Is that so?  We must not permit that.”

“No; I have a thousand dollars in bank, and I shall ask Mr. Crawford to-morrow if he will advance me two thousand on some lots I own in Tacoma.”

“That will not be necessary.  I will myself advance the full amount, and you can pay me whenever you sell your lots.”

“That is very kind, Mr. Gale, and relieves me very much.”

“Don’t overestimate the kindness.  I have more money than I know what to do with.”

“There are others in the same position who would not help me.”

“I am your friend.  That makes the difference.  When you go to Arden I will go, too.  It will be pleasant for me to see the place where I passed so enjoyable a summer and made so good a friend.”

“I shall be delighted to have your company, Mr. Gale.”

Two evenings later, as Andy was walking up Broadway toward his new home, he saw a familiar figure in front of him—­the figure of a boy about his own age.  Evidently the boy had been drinking, and could not walk straight.

Once, as he turned half around, Andy, with a start, recognized John Crandall, who had treated him so meanly at Mr. Flint’s.  He had no reason to like him, but his compassion was aroused.