"Yes, sir," answered William; "and I have got the little picture which you coloured for me still."
"You are, then, really the same boy?" said Mr. Stewart; "but tell me, how did you get here? and what are you doing in this room?"
"Oh, sir," he replied, as he blushed deeply, "please forgive me; my master sent me with the shoes, and when I saw the door open and the picture, I could not help it. Indeed I did not mean any harm."
"I believe you," rejoined Mr. Stewart; "and now tell me how you got to New York, and what you are doing."
Our little shoemaker did so with his usual openness and candour; and, accustomed never to swerve from, the straightforward and direct line of truth, the stamp of that virtue was so apparent in all he said, that the kindly sympathies of Mr. Stewart were once more awakened in his behalf. He was, however, too prudent to excite any hope which he might afterward be obliged to crush; so telling our hero where to go in order to deliver his errand, he took up his pallet and began to paint.
"Stop one minute," he called, as William was leaving the room. "Have you any friends in the city? and where do you live?"
William replied that he had no real friends but old Thomas Burton the watchman, and his wife. Mrs. Bradley, the market-woman, had been very kind to him too, but it was the old watchman who took him to church, and when he was troubled about the purse, had taken it to the right owner. The sounds of swift footsteps were now heard, and a bright-looking boy of fourteen came bustling in at the door. "Father," he said, "grandfather wants me to take a drive with him; can I go?"
"Stay a moment first, George," answered Mr. Stewart. "I believe you lost your purse on Christmas eve, at least I heard you lamenting something of the kind. You recovered it, and you said you wished to reward the finder; did you ever do so?"
"No, father," replied George, "I did not. An old watchman who brought it told grandfather that a shoemaker's boy had found it, but was then so ill that it was most likely he would never recover, and so--"
"And so, George, you never inquired whether he lived or died," said Mr. Stewart. "That is the true spirit of the world, to care only for self. George, I believe this is the boy who found it; thank him, at least, if you do not reward him."