eply without notice, and patted him on the
shoulder. "I spoke of the girl," he said, "because I wanted to help her;
and I can help her, if you will let me. Before long, my son, I shall be
going back to the United States. I wish you would go with me!"

"And desert Sally!" cried Amelius.

"Nothing of the sort! Before we go, I'll see that Sally is provided for
to your satisfaction. Will you think of it, to please me?"

Amelius relented. "Anything, to please you," he said.

Rufus noticed his hat and gloves on the table, and left him without
saying more. "The trouble with Amelius," he thought, as he closed the
cottage gate, "is not over yet."

CHAPTER 11

The day on which worthy old Surgeon Pinfold had predicted that Sally
would be in a fair way of recovery had come and gone; and still the
medical report to Amelius was the same:--"You must be patient, sir; she
is not well enough to see you yet."

Toff, watching his young master anxiously, was alarmed by the steadily
progressive change in him for the worse, which showed itself at this
time. Now sad and silent, and now again bitter and irritable, he had
deteriorated physically as well as morally, until he really looked
like the shadow of his former self. He never exchanged a word with his
faithful old servant, except when he said mechanically, "good morning"
or "good night." Toff could endure it no longer. At the risk of being
roughly misinterpreted, he followed his own kindly impulse, and spoke.
"May I own to you, sir," he said, with perfect gentleness and respect,
"that I am indeed heartily sorry to see you so ill?"

Amelius looked up at him sharply. "You servants always make a fuss about
trifles. I am a little out of sorts; and I want a change--that's all.
Perhaps I may go to America. You won't like that; I shan't complain if
you look out for another situation."

The tears came into the old man's eyes. "Never!" he answered fervently.
"My last service, sir, if you send me away, shall be my dearly loved
service here."

All that was most tender in the nature of Amelius was touched to the
quick. "Forgive me, Toff," he said; "I am lonely and wretched, and more
anxious about Sally than words can tell. There can be no change in my
life, until my mind is easy about that poor little girl. But if it does
end in my going to America, you shall go with me--I wouldn't lose you,
my good friend, for the world."

Toff still remained in the room, as if he had something left