culiar pleasure in reflecting as to what he could do to make
these men, with whom he had casually foregathered, happier? Did it lie
in his power to give them any greater satisfaction than that which they
already possessed? He doubted whether a present of money to Matt Peke,
for instance, would not offend that rustic philosopher, more than it
would gratify him;--while, as for Tom o' the Gleam, that handsome
ruffian was more likely to rob a man of gold than accept it as a gift
from him. Then involuntarily, his thoughts reverted to the "kiddie." He
recalled the look in Tom's wild eyes, and the almost womanish tremble of
tenderness in his rough voice, when he had spoken of this little child
of his on whom he openly admitted he had set all his love.

"I should like," mused Helmsley, "to see that kiddie! Not that I believe
in the apparent promise of a child's life,--for my own sons taught me
the folly of indulging in any hopes on that score--and Lucy Sorrel has
completed the painful lesson. Who would have ever thought that she,--the
little angel creature who seemed too lovely and innocent for this world
at ten,--could at twenty have become the extremely commonplace and
practical woman she is,--practical enough to wish to marry an old man
for his money! But that talk among the men last night about the 'kiddie'
touched me somehow,--I fancy it must be a sturdy little lad, with a
bright face and a will of its own. I might possibly do something for the
child if,--if its father would let me! And that's very doubtful!
Besides, should I not be interfering with the wiser and healthier
dispensations of nature? The 'kiddie' is no doubt perfectly happy in its
wild state of life,--free to roam the woods and fields, with every
chance of building up a strong and vigorous constitution in the simple
open-air existence to which it has been born and bred. All the riches in
the world could not make health or freedom for it,--and thus again I
confront myself with my own weary problem--Why have I toiled all my
life to make money, merely to find money so useless and comfortless at
the end?"

With a sigh he rose from the table. His simple breakfast was finished,
and he went to the window to look at the roses that pushed their pretty
pink faces up to the sun through a lattice-work of green leaves. There
was a small yard outside, roughly paved with cobbles, but clean, and
bordered here and there with bright clusters of flowers, and in one
particularl