or thereabouts, haven't you?"

"Why, the lad's lived wi' me; he had a right to't. He's the same as my
own son'd be, min' ye."

"You collect his wages, I presume?"

"Oh, now! what'd I be doin' wi' the wee bit money that a baby like
him'd earn? He's a-savin' o' it. It ain't much, but mayhap it'll buy
a bit o' schoolin' for the lad some day. Ye s'ould see the braw way
he'll read an' write now, sir."

Sharpman sat for some time as if in deep thought. Finally, he said:--

"Look here, Buckley! You're a poor man; you can't afford to throw away
what little money you earn, nor to let an opportunity slip for turning
an honest penny. You have done a good deal for the boy; I don't see
why you shouldn't be rewarded."

"I've had ma reward, sir, i' the blessin' o' the lad's company."

"Yes, that's all very true, but a man must not rob himself; it's
not right. You are getting along in years; you should have a little
something to lay by for old age. We are sure to establish Ralph's
identity, and to recover his interest in his father's estate. I know
that the boy would be delighted to have you paid out of the funds that
would come into our hands, and I am very certain that Mrs. Burnham
would be proud to have your services acknowledged in that way. The
basis of compensation would not be so much the time, labor, and money
actually expended by you, as it would be the value of the property
rescued and cared for. That would figure into a very nice sum. I think
you had better let me manage it, and secure for you something to lay
by for a rainy day, or for old age that is sure to fall on you. What
do you say?"

But Bachelor Billy had risen to his feet, excited, and in earnest.

"I'm a poor mon, Muster Sharpman," he said, "an' money's worth a deal
to me, but I could na tak' it for a-doin' what I ha' for Ralph."

"Why, I am sure your services have been of infinite value, both to the
boy and to his mother."

"Mayhap! mayhap! that's no' for me to say. But I canna do it. I could
na look ony mon i' the eye wi' a cent o' the lad's money i' ma purse.
It'd seem as though I'd been a-doin' for 'im a' these years wi' a
purpose to get it back in siller some day, an' I never did; I never
thocht o' it, sir. The chil's been as free an' welcome as the sunshine
wi' me. The bit money I ha' spent, the bit care I ha' had wi' 'im, why
that was paid back wi' dooble interest the first week he could sit oop
i' the bed an' talk. It's a blessin' to hear the