was the first time that he had looked at himself impersonally. The
sketch was vivid, the likeness excellent; the motive, the
picturesque and romantic.

A proud lift of the chin, an eager glance in the eye, a sensitive
curve of the lip attracted his boyish egotism. The portrait was an
ideal, something to live up to. Involuntarily he composed his
features.

Barney Bill again called time. Paul surrendered the sketch-book
reluctantly. Rowlatt, with a cheery word, handed him the shilling
fee. Paul, than whom none better knew the magic quality of money,
hesitated for a second. The boy in the sketch would have refused.
Paul drew himself up. "Nay, I'll take noan. I liked doing it."

Rowlatt laughed and pocketed the coin. "All right," said he, with a
playful bow. "I'm exceedingly indebted to your courtesy."

Barney Bill gave Paul an approving glance. "Good for you, boy. Never
take money you've not earned. Good day to you, sir"--he touched
his cap. "And"--with a motion toward the empty mugs--"thank you
kindly."

Rowlatt strolled with them to the van, Barney Bill limping a pace or
two ahead. "Remember what I told you, my young friend," said he in a
low voice. "I don't go back upon my word. I'll help you. But if
you're a wise boy and know what's good for you, you'll stick to Mr.
Barney Bill and the freedom of the high-road and the light heart of
the vagabond. You'll have a devilish sight more happiness in the
end."