"A little."

"How much?"

"About twenty dollars," said Clarence hesitatingly. The man opened a
drawer at his side, mechanically, for he did not raise his eyes, and
took out two ten-dollar gold pieces. "I'll go twenty better," he said,
laying them down on the desk. "That'll give you a chance to look around.
Come back here, if you don't see your way clear." He dipped his pen into
the ink with a significant gesture as if closing the interview.

Clarence pushed back the coin. "I'm not a beggar," he said doggedly.

The man this time raised his head and surveyed the boy with two keen
eyes. "You're not, hey? Well, do I look like one?"

"No," stammered Clarence, as he glanced into the man's haughty eyes.

"Yet, if I were in your fix, I'd take that money and be glad to get it."

"If you'll let me pay you back again," said Clarence, a little ashamed,
and considerably frightened at his implied accusation of the man before
him.

"You can," said the man, bending over his desk again.

Clarence took up the money and awkwardly drew out his purse. But it was
the first time he had touched it since it was returned to him in the
bar-room, and it struck him that it was heavy and full--indeed, so