and a well-formed but slightly
retreating chin. His figure was inclined to be stout, and his shoulders
were slightly bent. He walked softly, and as he spoke his voice was
gentle and pleasing. There was no assertion in it, but it was perfectly
self-respecting. The eyes and voice redeemed the face from being
commonplace.

"Oh!--Mr. Clark, I did not know I should have been so long about my
work. I was so engaged getting my book straight for you, and writing--a
few cheques for my annual contributions to hospitals, etc.,--that the
time slipped by--"

The tone was unusually conciliatory for Livingstone; but he still
retained it in addressing Clark. It was partly a remnant of his old time
relation to Mr. Clark when he, yet a young man, first knew him, and
partly a recognition of Clark's position as a man of good birth who had
been unfortunate, and had a large family to support.

"Oh! that's all right, Mr. Livingstone," said the clerk, pleasantly.

He gathered up the letters on the desk and was unconsciously pressing
them into exact order.

"Shall I have these mailed or sent by a messenger?"

"Mail them, of course," said Livingstone. "And Clark, I want you to--"

"I thought possibly that, as to-morrow is--" began the clerk in
explanation, but stopped as Livingstone continued speaking without
noticing the interruption.

--"I have been going over my matters," pursued Livingstone, "and they
are in excellent shape--better this year than ever before--"

The clerk's face brightened.

"That's very good," said he, heartily. "I knew they were."

--"Yes, very good, indeed," said Livingstone condescendingly, pausing to
dwell for a second on the sight of the line of pallid figures which
suddenly flashed before his eyes. "And I have got everything straight
for you this year; and I want you to come up to my house this evening
and go over the books with me quietly, so that I can show you--"

"This evening?" The clerk's countenance fell and the words were as near
an exclamation as he ever indulged in.

"Yes--, this evening. I shall be at home this evening and to-morrow
evening--Why not this evening?" demanded Livingstone almost sharply.

"Why, only--that it's--. However,--" The speaker broke off. "I'll be
there, sir. About eight-thirty, I suppose?"

"Yes," said Livingstone, curtly.

He was miffed, offended, aggrieved. He had intended to do a kind thing
by this man, and he had met with a rebuff.

"I expect to pay you," he