"But s'pose," suggested Lionel, "I come to a place where the road is to
the left,--some of the roads might be not to the right,--some might go
quite the other way."

"Yes," assented the beggar, wistfully. "They _all_ go the other
way,--that is, they _seem_ to go the other way. But when they seem to
go to the wrong and you don't see any that go to the right, just keep
as near to the right as you can, and by and by you 'll see one and it
will be lovely. But if you turn down to the wrong, you run a chance of
losing your way entirely. It is always so much harder to go back."

"But are those all the directions you are going to give me?" inquired
Lionel, with a doubtful glance.

"They are sufficient," replied the beggar. "You 'll find them
sufficient;" and before Lionel could say another word the beggar had
vanished from before his very eyes. He had not slipped away, nor slunk
away, nor walked away, nor sped away,--he had simply vanished; and
Lionel was left alone behind the grated door of the area-way gazing out
upon a vacant space of pavement where, an instant before, the beggar
had stood. The little boy rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, the
beggar was gone, in very truth, and had left not so much as a rag
behind him. But, look! what was that? Something lay upon the stone
step just outside the gate, and it gleamed brightly from out its dusky
corner. Lionel reached up and unlatched the heavy fastening. The
great gate swung slowly in, and Lionel stepped briskly out. He bent
down and grasped the shining object; it proved to be a little rule, and
it was made of solid gold. He clasped it to his bosom.