The city bus rolled through the streets ofCanada’s capital. There wasn’t much talk among the passengers — the weary late-afternoon crowd the workers at the end of a long day the students leaving school — most of them familiar to one another if only by sight from the daily commute. On a blue plastic seat a serious young man sat lost in thought. The buds in his ears connected him to a world far beyondOttawa: the words of Rav Avigdor Miller sang like a wellspring of truth and clarity.

A tall gentleman stood up as his stop approached and as the doors opened he stepped out swallowed by winter’s darkness. The student with the headphones noticed a small wad of bills where the fellow had been sitting. The young man immediately took the bills a relatively small sum planning to return them to their owner.

The next day the gentleman wasn’t on the bus or the day after. Finally almost a week later he was back in his usual seat. The delighted teenager removed the money from his pocket and returned it. “Here I believe this money fell out of your pocket.”

The passenger was astonished. “You held on to the money for three days waiting to see me?”

Young Noach Muroff a student recently enrolled at the Ottawa Torah Institute nodded politely. “Sure.” He accepted the flabbergasted thanks and sat back down with his earphones back to Rav Miller.