thropy,--of keeping poor
devils at work when there was no demand for goods, so that they should
not starve. I should have closed out the concern two years ago. When you
begin to lose, it is time to get out,--not wait until every stiver is
gone. But, if ever there was a noble man, it is our dead friend David
Lawrence."

His chest swelled as he pronounced this eulogy, and he laid his white
hand sympathetically on his waistcoat.

"What is all this bank muddle about?"

"I really don't know. Heavy real-estate business"--

"And you a director!" interrupted Minor, with an unpleasant quickness.

"I have had so much on my hands that I did not pay strict attention to
it, I must confess. You know, Minor, what a tremendous shrinkage there
has been in values: it seems to me as if the bottom had fallen out of
every thing. I have an interest out in Nevada that I am anxious to look
after, and should have gone a year ago, but Lawrence begged me to hold
over until matters brightened a little. He was so sure times would
improve. By Jove! I think they grow worse and worse!"

"And Fred knows no more than a baby!" said Minor, in a tone of contempt.
"You'd be a help to him, Eastman, if you would stay and go over
accounts."

"I don't know about that," shaking his head slowly. "The books are all
on the square, as you will see. If one could only make money as easily
as one can add up that which has been made and spent!" and Eastman gave
a little laugh.

"But it cannot be a total loss. The house, I know, is settled upon Mrs.
Lawrence. And the mill-property"--

"Mortgaged for all it is worth in such times as these. Perhaps I ought
not to speak of it, but George was in a little difficulty which the old
gentleman tided over. Too much real estate, Minor!"

Hamilton Minor had no great amount of confidence in the man before him;
but then, he did not have in any one. He was on a little of the paper,
and just now he felt exceedingly dubious about it. Some arrangement
ought to be made whereby members of the family who had stood by Mr.
Lawrence ought not to be losers.

The funeral was strangely quiet and solemn; I was about to add, select.
The mill overseers and officers were formally invited. Fred had a
feeling about the men,--it seemed as if they ought to form a procession;
but the walk to the cemetery was a long one, and Mrs. Minor decisively
negatived any plan that took in the "rabble." The coffin lay in the
spacious drawing-room, where f