e was ever on
the tongue o' the youth, so that his own cup had always the flavour
o' woe."

The tinker paused a moment, looking sternly into the face of the
young man.

"I adjure thee, boy, touch not the cup of another's happiness, or
it may imbitter thy tongue. But if thou be foolish an' take it up,
mind ye do not drop it."

"I shall be careful--I shall neither taste nor drop it," said Trove.

"God bless thee, boy! thou'rt come to a great law--who drains the
cup of another's happiness shall find it bitter, but who drains the
cup of another's bitterness shall find it sweet."

A silence followed, in which Trove sat looking at the old man whose
words were like those of a prophet. "I have no longer any right to
seek my father," he thought. "And, though I meet him face to face,
I must let him go his way."

Suddenly there came a rap at the door, and when Darrel opened it,
they saw only a letter hanging to the latch. It contained these
words, but no signature:--

"There'll be a bonfire and some fun to-night at twelve, in the
middle of Cook's field. Messrs. Trove and Darrel are invited."

"Curious," said Darrel. "It has the look o' mischief."

"Oh, it's only the boys and a bit of skylarking," said Trove.
"Let's go and see what's up--it's near the time."

The streets were dark and silent as they left the shop. They went
up a street beyond the village limits and looked off in Cook's
field but saw no light there. While they stood looking a flame
rose and spread. Soon they could see figures in the light, and,
climbing the fence, they hastened across an open pasture. Coming
near they saw a score of men with masks upon their faces.

"Give him the tar and feathers," said a strange voice.

"Not if he will confess an' seek forgiveness," another answered.

"Down to your knees, man, an' make no outcry, an' see you repeat
the words carefully, as I speak them, or you go home in tar and
feathers."

They could hear the sound of a scuffle, and, shortly, the phrases
of a prayer spoken by one voice and repeated by another.

They were far back in the gloom, but could hear each word of that
which follows: "O God, forgive me--I am a liar and a hypocrite--I
have the tongue of scandal and deceit--I have robbed the poor--I
have defamed the good--and, Lord, I am sick--with the rottenness of
my own heart. And hereafter--I will cheat no more--and speak no
evil of any one--Amen."

"Now, go to your home, Riley Brooke," sa