ark yourself?" said Mrs. Boyd, amused, and just a shade hopeful.

"Precisely. Nor can I. It would have been cool impudence in a lad to
come and ask to be taught his work first and then paid for it, if he
hadn't been so very much in earnest that I was rather sorry for him.
I'm inclined to believe, from the talk I had with him at the foot of the
brae to-day, that he is a young dog that would bark with uncommon little
teaching. Material, ma'am, is what we want. I don't care for its being
raw material, if it's only of the right sort. I've made up my mind to
try your boy."

"Thank God!"

"What did you say, ma'am? But--I beg your pardon."

For he saw that Mrs. Boyd had quite broken down. In truth, the strain
had been so long and so great that this sudden relief was quite too much
for her. She sobbed heartily.

"I ought to beg your pardon," she said at last, "for being so foolish,
but we have had hard times of late."

And then, in a few simple words, she told Donald's whole story.

The old man listened to it in silence. Sometimes he nodded his head,
or beat his chin on his stout stick as he sat; but he made no comment
whatever, except a brief "Thank you, ma'am."

"Now to business," continued he, taking out his watch; "for I'm due at
dinner: and I always keep my appointments, even with myself. I hope your
Donald is a punctual lad?"

"Yes. He promised to be back by dark, and I am sure he will be. Could
you not wait?"

"No. I never wait for anybody; but keep nobody waiting for me. I'm
Bethune & Co., Leith Merchants--practically, old John Bethune, who began
life as a message-boy, and has done pretty well, considering."

He had, as Mrs. Boyd was well aware. Bethune & Co. was a name so well
known that she could hardly believe in her boy's good luck in getting
into that house in any capacity whatever.

"So all is settled," said Mr. Bethune, rising. "Let him come to me on
Monday morning, and I'll see what he is fit for. He'll have to start at
the very bottom--sweep the office, perhaps--I did it myself once--and
I'll give him--let me see--ten shillings a week to begin with."

"'To begin with,'" repeated Mrs. Boyd, gently but firmly; "but he will
soon be worth more. I am sure of that."

"Very well. When I see what stuff he is made of, he shall have a rise.
But I never do things at haphazard; and it's easier going up than coming
down. I'm not a benevolent man, Mrs. Boyd, and you need not think it.
But I've fought the wor