I'm going to give you an allowance, and it's got to
do."

"Sir?"

"Oh!--I mean I'm going, after I get you on your feet, to put up a
certain sum of money for you to live on; buy your clothes and get what
amusement you can--along your own lines. I'm not going to pry or
question you. You've got to feel your way along--it's always my
method. They who stumble or run astray must learn their own
lesson--not mine! I'll steady you at the start; after that you've got
to learn to walk alone or go to----"

"Yes, sir!" The awful weight of responsibility was crushing Sandy as
the city did--but he kept clear eyes on Markham.

"The only fun I have in life," Levi said, "is watching the outcome of
my investments. You are an investment, Sandford, a flier--I call you!
You're a risk and a pick-up, but some of my biggest hauls came from
fishing where others scorned to take a chance.

"Yes, sir."

"You are willing to--agree?"

"Oh! yes, sir."

"Sounds like a big chance?"

"I reckon it does, sir, but it's what I saved money for ever since I
was seven. The _chance_, I mean, sir."

"Sandford, when you feel that you can--not now, but some day--I want
you to tell me all about yourself."

"Yes, sir." But the thin face twitched.

"And now come down to dinner."

For a few days more the crushing city did its worst for Sandy. The
noise and confusion wore upon him cruelly. The memory of the faces of
the crowds was to be a nightmare to him for years to come. To one who
had dwelt where few crossed his path, the close proximity of hundreds
and hundreds of eyes during the day left an impression never to be
forgotten. The personal contact, too, drained the small, lately gained
strength, but no complaint passed the boy's lips. Matilda pitied Sandy
and in her quiet, slow thoughtfulness shielded him how and as she
could. Markham had business in the city and was often absorbed, but at
odd moments he relaxed and sought to entertain his sister and their
charge by showing them the sights of the town. It would have been
impossible for him to appreciate the suffering he often, unconsciously,
caused Sandy, who, left to himself, would have crouched in some quiet
corner and closed his eyes against every unfamiliar thing.

Quite weakened by the experiences of the stay in New York, the boy
reached at last the lovely little New England village of Bretherton at
the close of a radiant autumn day. He was too weary to feel even
gratitude as