"I'm sorry for you, Tom," he said. "How much do you owe for rent?"
"Two weeks now," said Tom.
"How much is it a week?"
"Two dollars a week--that makes four."
"Have you got anything towards it?"
"No; I've had to spend all my money for food for mother and the rest
of us. I've had pretty hard work to do that. I don't know what we'll
do. I haven't any place to go to, and I'm afraid mother'll get cold
in her arm."
"Can't you borrow the money somewhere?" asked Dick.
Tom shook his head despondingly.
"All the people I know are as poor as I am," said he. "They'd help
me if they could, but it's hard work for them to get along
themselves."
"I'll tell you what, Tom," said Dick, impulsively, "I'll stand your
friend."
"Have you got any money?" asked Tom, doubtfully.
"Got any money!" repeated Dick. "Don't you know that I run a bank on
my own account? How much is it you need?"
"Four dollars," said Tom. "If we don't pay that before to-morrow
night, out we go. You haven't got as much as that, have you?"
"Here are three dollars," said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book.
"I'll let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little more."
"You're a right down good fellow, Dick," said Tom; "but won't you
want it yourself?"
"Oh, I've got some more," said Dick.
"Maybe I'll never be able to pay you."
"S'pose you don't," said Dick; "I guess I won't fail."
"I won't forget it, Dick.
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