and it acted like a tonic on the butler. The light came
into his eyes too. He drew a breath of deep relief as though a mountain
of care had rolled off him, and he came a step nearer his master, who
had flung himself into a chair and picked up a cigar.

The next minute Livingstone plunged into the subject on his mind. It was
a plan which made the butler's eyes first open wide and then sparkle
with pleasure.

The difficulty with Livingstone, however, was that the next day was a
holiday and he did not know whether what he wanted could be got.

The butler came to his rescue. It was no difficulty to James. Such an
emergency only quickened his powers. He knew places where whatever was
wanted could be got, holiday or no holiday, and, "If Mr. Livingstone
would only allow him--?"

"Allow you!" said Livingstone, "I give you _carte blanche_, only have
everything ready by five o'clock.--Ask the cook to send up whatever she
has; I'm hungry, and we'll talk it over whilst I'm taking supper."

"Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir;" and James withdrew with a step as light
as air.

"Extraordinary servant!" thought Livingstone. "Wonder I never took it in
before!"

Ten minutes later Livingstone was seated at the table with an appetite
like a schoolboy's.

It was the happiest meal Livingstone had eaten in many a long day; for,
all alone as he was, he was not alone. Thought-of-others sat at the
board and a cheery companion it is.

"Tell the laundress to be sure and bring her children around to-morrow,
and be sure you make them have a good time," he said to James, as he
rose from the table. James bowed.

"Yes, sir."

"And ascertain where policeman, No. 268, is to be found to-morrow. I
want to send a contribution to make a good slide for some boys on his
beat."

James bowed again, his eyes somewhat wider than before.

As Livingstone mounted the stair, though he was sensible of fatigue it
was the fatigue of the body, so delicious to those who have known that
of the mind. And he felt pity as well as loathing for the poor, worn
creature who had climbed the same stair a few hours before.

As he entered his room the warmth and home feeling had come back there
also. The portraits of his father and mother first caught his eye. Some
one had put a wreath around each and they seemed to beam on him with a
pleased and tender smile. They opened afresh the flood-gates of memory
for him, but the memories were sweet and tender.

He glanced at a