Preston, smiling.
"I am afraid it won't be a pleasure, for I bring bad news."
"Bad news?" repeated the gentleman, rather startled.
"Yes; I have lost the shirt you gave me."
"Oh, is that all?" said Mr. Preston, looking relieved. "But how
did you lose it?"
"I was walking home down the Bowery, when two fellows met me.
One of them, Mike Donovan, forced me into a fight. I gave him a
licking," added Paul, with satisfaction; "but when it was all
over, I found the other fellow had run off with the shirt."
"I don't believe it will fit him," said Mr. Preston, laughing.
As the speaker probably weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, it
was, indeed, rather doubtful. Paul couldn't help laughing
himself at the thought.
"You were certainly unlucky," said Mr. Preston. "Did you know
the boy you fought with?"
"Yes, sir; he once before stole my stock of candy, when I was in
the prize-package business."
"That was the day we got acquainted," remarked Mr. Preston.
"Yes, sir."
"He doesn't seem to be a very particular friend of yours."
"No; he hates me, Mike does, though I don't know why. But I hope
you won't be angry with me for losing the shirt?"
"No; it doesn't seem to be your fault, only your misfortune.
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