Part 16 (1/2)

The loss of the s.h.i.+rt was very vexatious. It was not so much the value of it that Paul cared for, although this was a consideration by no means to be despised by one in his circ.u.mstances; but it had been lent as a pattern, and without it his mother would be unable to make Mr. Preston's s.h.i.+rts. As to recovering it, he felt that there was little chance of this. Besides, it would involve delay, and his mother could not afford to remain idle. Paul felt decidedly uncomfortable. Again Mike Donovan had done him an injury, and this time of a more serious nature than before.

What should he do?

There seemed but one answer to this question. He must go back to Mr.

Preston, explain the manner in which he had lost his s.h.i.+rt, and ask him for another, promising, of course, to supply the place of the one lost.

He was not sure whether Mr. Preston would accept this explanation. He might think it was only an attempt to defraud him. But, at any rate, it seemed the only thing to do, and it must be done at once. He entered a pa.s.sing car, for it was too late to walk.

”I wish I had taken the car down,” thought Paul. ”Then I shouldn't have lost the s.h.i.+rt.”

But it was too late for regrets now. He must do the best that remained to him.

It was nearly ten o'clock when Paul once more stood before the door of Mr. Preston's boarding-place. He rang the bell and asked to see him.

”You have been here before this evening?” said the servant.

”Yes.”

”Then you know the room. You can walk right up.”

Paul went upstairs and knocked at Mr. Preston's room. He was bidden to come in, and did so.

Mr. Preston looked up with surprise.

”I suppose you are surprised to see me,” said Paul, rather awkwardly.

”Why, yes. I did not antic.i.p.ate that pleasure quite so soon,” said Mr.

Preston, smiling.

”I am afraid it won't be a pleasure, for I bring bad news.”

”Bad news?” repeated the gentleman, rather startled.

”Yes; I have lost the s.h.i.+rt you gave me.”

”Oh, is that all?” said Mr. Preston, looking relieved. ”But how did you lose it?”

”I was walking home down the Bowery, when two fellows met me. One of them, Mike Donovan, forced me into a fight. I gave him a licking,” added Paul, with satisfaction; ”but when it was all over, I found the other fellow had run off with the s.h.i.+rt.”

”I don't believe it will fit him,” said Mr. Preston, laughing.

As the speaker probably weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, it was, indeed, rather doubtful. Paul couldn't help laughing himself at the thought.

”You were certainly unlucky,” said Mr. Preston. ”Did you know the boy you fought with?”

”Yes, sir; he once before stole my stock of candy, when I was in the prize-package business.”

”That was the day we got acquainted,” remarked Mr. Preston.

”Yes, sir.”