Sir."

"I'm sorry I'm all full. But sit down while I finish these letters; then
we'll talk about it."

CHAPTER XV.

A SCHOOL-BOY NO LONGER.

The lad seated himself by the window. Scratch--scratch--scratch. The sun
sparkled in the river. The sails, after yesterday's rain, were loosened
to dry, and were white as if it had rained milk upon them instead of
water. Every thing looked cheerful and bright from Lawrence Newt's
window. The lad saw with delight how much sunshine there was in the
office.

"I don't believe it would hurt my health to work here," thought he.
Mr. Lawrence Newt rang a little bell. Venables entered quietly.

"Most ready out there?" asked Mr. Newt.

"Most ready, Sir."

"Brisk's the word this morning, you know. Please to copy these letters."

Venables said nothing, took the letters, and went out.

"Now, young man," said the merchant, "tell me what you want."

The lad's heart turned toward him like a fallow-field to the May sun.

"My father's been unfortunate, Sir, and I want to do something for
myself. He advised me to come to you."

"Why?"

"Because he said you would give me good advice if you couldn't give me
employment."

"Well, Sir, you seem a strong, likely lad. Have you ever been in a
store?"

"No, Sir. I left school last week."

Mr. Newt looked out of the window.

"Your father's been unfortunate?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How's that? Has he told a lie, or lost his eyes, or his health, or has
his daughter married a drunkard?" asked Mr. Lawrence Newt, looking at the
lad with a kindly humor in his eyes.

"Oh no, Sir," replied the boy, surprised. "He's lost his money."

"Oh ho! his money! And it is the loss of money which you call
'unfortunate.' Now, my boy, think a moment. Is there any thing belonging
to your father which he could so well spare? Has he any superfluous boy
or girl? any useless arm or leg? any unnecessary good temper or honesty?
any taste for books, or pictures, or the country, that he would part
with? Is there any thing which he owns that it would not be a greater
misfortune to him to lose than his money? Honor bright, my boy. If you
think there is, say so!"

The youth smiled.

"Well, Sir, I suppose worse things could happen to us than poverty," said
he.

Mr. Lawrence Newt interrupted him by remarks which were belied by his
beaming face.

"Worse things than poverty! Why, my boy, what are you thinking of? Do
you not know that it is written in the large