r the accomplishment of his object.
After that he would or would not keep faith with him, as he chose.
And as for Ralph, if he were really Robert Burnham's son, he would
be rich enough at any rate, and if he were not that son he would
not be entitled to wealth. There was no use, therefore, in being
over-conscientious on his account.

It was a brilliant scheme, worth risking a great deal on, both of
money and reputation, Sharpman resolved to make the most of it.

CHAPTER IV.

A SET OF RESOLUTIONS.

It was the morning of the third day after the disaster at Burnham
Shaft. The breaker boys were to go that morning, in a body, to the
mansion of their dead employer to look for the last time on his face.
They had asked that they might be permitted to do this, and the
privilege had been granted.

Grief holds short reign in young hearts, it is true; but the sorrow
in the hearts of these children of toil was none the less sincere.
Had there been any tendency to forget their loss, the solemn faces
and tearful eyes of those who were older than they would have been
a constant reminder.

As Robert Burnham had been universally beloved, so his death was
universally mourned. The miners at Burnham Shaft felt that they had
especial cause for grief. He had a way of coming to the mines and
looking after them and their labor, personally, that they liked. He
knew the names of all the men who worked there, and he had a word of
kindly greeting for each one whom he met. When he came among them out
of the darkness of heading or chamber, there seemed, somehow, to be
more light in the mines, more light and better air, and a sense of
cheeriness and comfort. And, after he had gone, you could hear these
men whistling and singing at their tasks for hours; the mere fact of
his presence had so lightened their labors. The bosses caught this
spirit of friendliness, and there was always harmony at Burnham
Breaker and in the Burnham mines, among all who labored there in any
way whatever. But the screen-room boys had, somehow, come to look upon
this man as their especial friend. He sympathized with them. He seemed
to understand how hard it was for boys like they were to bend all day
above those moving streams of coal. He always had kind words for them,
and devised means to lessen, at times, the rigid monotony of their
tasks. They regarded him with something of that affection which a
child has for a firm, kind parent. Moreover, they looked upon