him, and recover my skates!" he said, warmly for him. "Serve him
right, too, if this is the last straw on the camel's back, to send
him to the House of Refuge for a spell. He is a born thief, I do
believe, and ought to be treated just like one."

Hugh, aroused by the sense of injustice, and a desire to turn the
tables on the slippery Nick, even stepped forward to snatch up his
cap, with the full intention of hurrying out to see if he could
overtake the thief; and, if not, continuing on until he came to the
office of the police force. Then he stopped short with a gasp.

He had suddenly remembered something. Into his mind rushed the
details of a certain recent conversation in which he had indulged
with his closest chum, Thad Stevens. Again he saw the picture of
that good priest of the story, looking so benignly upon the wretched
Jean Valjean, brought into his presence with the valuable silver
candlesticks and spoons found in his possession, which he kept
insisting his late host had presented him with, however preposterous
the claim seemed.

"Why, this is very nearly like that case, I declare!" ejaculated
Hugh, almost overcome by the wonderful similarity, which seemed the
more amazing because of the resolution he told Thad he had taken.

He dropped back into his seat, with the money still gripped in his
hand. He stared hard at it. In imagination he could see Nick, who
never liked hard work any too well, they said, busying himself like a
beaver, putting in coal for some neighbor, perhaps; or cleaning a
walk off for a dime. He must have done considerable work to earn
that first dollar.