ale lips trembling as he spoke,--"you don't keep account of the days
as I do, Roundjacket."

"The days--I--"

"Yes, yes; it is natural for you to wonder at all this," said the
weary looking man, closing the book, and locking it up in a secret
drawer of the table; "let us dismiss the matter. Did you say any one
wanted me? Yes, I can attend to business--my mind is quite clear--I am
ready--I will see them now, Roundjacket."

And the head of the lawyer fell upon his arm, his bosom shaken with
sobs.

Roundjacket looked at him no longer with so much surprise--he had
understood all.

"Yes, yes, sir--I had forgotten," he muttered, "this is the 13th of
October."

Mr. Rushton groaned.

Roundjacket was silent for a moment, looking at his friend with deep
sympathy.

"I don't wonder now at your feelings, sir," he said, "and I am sorry I
intruded on--"

"No, no--you are a good friend," murmured the lawyer, growing calmer,
"you will understand my feelings, and not think them strange. I am
nearly over it now; it must come--oh! I am very wretched! Oh! Anne! my
child, my child!"

And allowing his head to fall again, the rough, boorish man cried like
a child, spite of the most violent efforts to regain his composure and
master his emotion.

"Go," he said, in a low, broken voice, making a movement with his
hand, "I was wrong--I cannot see any one to-day--I must be alone."

Roundjacket hesitated; moved dubiously from, then toward the lawyer;
finally he seemed to have made up his mind, and going out he closed
the door slowly behind him. As he did so, the key turned in the lock,
and a stifled moan died away in the inner chamber.

"Mr. Rushton is unwell, and can't transact business to-day," said
Roundjacket, softly, for he was thinking of the poor afflicted heart
"within;" then he added, "you may call to-morrow, sir,"

The visitor went away, wondering at "Judge Rushton" being sick; such
a thing had never before occurred in the recollection of the "oldest
inhabitant." Just as he had disappeared, the door re-opened, and Verty
made his appearance.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Roundjacket," said the boy, "for having run off
so this morning, but you see I was after that pigeon. I'll stay till
night, though, and work harder, and then it will be right again."

Instead of a very solemn and severe rebuke, Verty was surprised to
hear Mr. Roundjacket say, in a low and thoughtful voice:--

"You need not work any to-day, Verty--you can go