miling.

"I was a clerk in the Empire Consolidated Savings Bank," he continued,
"and I stole money,--for nearly a year I stole,--not large sums, but a
little at a time. Then, when I knew that it was going to be discovered,
I took quite a lot, and ran away."

"Yes?" said Auntie Sue.

"Do you not care that I am a thief?" he questioned, wonderingly.

"Oh, yes; I care very much," she returned. "But, you see, after all,
your stealing is a little thing that can be made all right. Your being
a thief is so small in comparison with other things which you might have
been, but which you are not, and of so little importance in comparison
with what you really ARE, that I can't feel so very bad about it."

"But--but--my drinking,--my condition when--" He could not go on.

"Why, you see," she answered, "I can't think of THAT man as being YOU at
all. THAT was something that the accident of your being a thief did to
you,--like catching cold, and being sick, after accidentally falling in
the river."

After a little silence, the man spoke, slowly: "I suppose every thief,
when he is caught, says the same thing; but I really never wanted to do
it. Circumstances--" he paused, biting his lip, and turning away.

"What was she like?" asked Auntie Sue, gently.

"She?" and his face reddened.

"Yes, I have observed that, to a man, 'circumstances' nearly always mean
a woman. To a woman, of course, it is a man."

"I cannot tell you about her, now," he said. "Some day, perhaps, when I
am further away from it. But she is not at all like you."

And this answer, for some strange reason, brought a flush of pleasure to
the face of the old schoolteacher.

"I did not mean for you to tell me now," she returned. "I only wanted
you to know that, even though I am an old maid, I can understand."

She left him then, and went to attend to her simple household duties.

It was not until quite late in the evening that Auntie Sue took up the
newspaper which Sheriff Knox had given her. Judy had retired to her
room, and Brian Burns--as they had agreed he should be called--was fast
asleep.

To-morrow, Brian was going to sit up. His clothing had been washed and
ironed and pressed, and Auntie Sue was making some little repairs in the
way of darning and buttons. She had finished, and was putting her needle
and scissors in the sewing-basket on the table beside her, when she
noticed the paper, which she had forgotten.

The article headed "BANK CLERK DISAPP