He set his teeth, clenched his fists, and by expression and attitude
showed that he had arrived at a decision of moment. He walked close
to the tramp. "I will admit, Friend Belly-brains, that you came upon
Opportunity before I did this day. But tell me again, are you to make no
further use of said Opportunity than to run to an old-clothes shop and
exchange for a few pennies that which will help to make a man?"

"They are mine and I'm going to sell 'em," retorted the sullen vagrant.

"I am sorry because you have no wit--no power to understand. Otherwise
you would gladly lay these garments in my hands and bid me Godspeed. You
don't understand at all, do you?"

"Look here, are you trying to frisk me for these duds?"

"It's all a waste of breath to explain to you that Providence meant
these things for me. You are not acute enough to understand close
reasoning. I could not show you that, for the sake of a few coins, which
would do you only that harm which would come from their value in cheap
whisky or beer, you might be wrecking the future of a soul that is
awake. I simply tell you that I shall keep the clothing for myself.
Perhaps you can understand that plain statement!" The brown eyes became
resolute and piercing. "Even if I had money I would not pay you for
these garments. Money does such as you no good; it may bring you
trouble. My dear Boston Fat, I cannot afford to let you prejudice my
future, which, so instinct tells me, is wrapped up in those poor things
of wool and warp." He snapped a finger into his palm and extended his
hand. "Give me that hat and then pass on about your business."

The tramp backed away. His little blinking eyes expressed both fear and