a step or two and said:--

"Boys, Mr. Curtis tells me you are all here. I am pleased with your
loyalty. I had rather have the good-will and confidence of the boys
who work for me than to have the money that they earn. Now, I intend
that you shall see the circus if you wish to, and you will be provided
with the means of admission to it. Mr. Curtis will dismiss you for the
rest of the day, and as you pass out you will each receive a silver
quarter as a gift for good behavior."

For a minute the boys were silent. It was too sudden a vision of
happiness to be realized at once. Then one little fellow stood up on
his bench and shouted:--

"Hooray for Mr. Burnham!" The next moment the air was filled with
shouts and hurrahs so loud and vigorous that they went echoing
through every dust-laden apartment of the huge building from head to
loading-place.

Then the boys filed out. One by one they went through the door-way,
each, as he passed, receiving from Mr. Burnham's own hand the shining
piece of silver that should admit him to the wonders of the "greatest
show on earth."

They spoke their thanks, rudely indeed, and in voices that were almost
too much burdened with happiness for quiet speech.

But their eyes were sparkling with anticipation; their lips were
parted in smiles, their white teeth were gleaming from their
dust-black faces, each look and action was eloquent with thoughts of
coming pleasure. And the one who enjoyed it more than all the others
was Robert Burnham.

It is so old that it was trite and tiresome centuries ago, that saying
about one finding one's greatest happiness in making others happy. But
it has never ceased to be true; it never will cease to be true; it is
one of those primal principles of humanity that no use nor law nor
logic can ever hope to falsify.

The last boy in the line differed apparently in no respect from
those who had preceded him. The faces of all of them were black with
coal-dust, and their clothes were patched and soiled. But this one had
just cut his hand, and, as he held it up to let the blood drip from it
you noticed that it was small and delicate in shape.

"Why, my boy!" exclaimed Mr. Burnham, "you have cut your hand. Let me
see."

"'Taint much, sir," the lad replied; "I often cut 'em a little. You're
apt to, a-handlin' the coal that way." The man had the little hand in
his and bent to examine the wound. "That's quite a cut," he said, "as
clean as though it had been made