were speaking about the lost money,
and whether any thing more was known that he had not heard. He was
tired waiting, and wanted to go home, and yet the thought of the empty
house and the long dull evening was not pleasant, and he was saying to
himself that it did not matter whether he stayed or went, when a hand
was laid on his shoulder, and a familiar voice said--

"Well, Davie, my boy, have you been standing here ever since I went
away?"

David turned and saw Philip Oswald. In his surprise, and because of the
many thoughts that came upon him at the sight of him, he did not utter a
word. He forgot to take the hand which Philip held out to him.

"Have you, Davie? I declare you look as if you had not seen the light
of the sun for a month! What is the matter with you, Davie?"

He might well ask it, for David had grown very pale, and his heart was
beating fast. In spite of his judgment, he had, since his talk with
Violet, associated Philip with the thought of the lost money, and now as
he looked at his frank, handsome face, he said how impossible it was
that he should have taken it, or that he should know anything about it.
No, Philip Oswald could not help him out of his trouble.

"When did you come, Philip?" said he. "I should scarcely have known
you, if you hadn't spoken."

Philip had changed more than seemed possible in two months' time. He
was brown with the sun and much more manly-looking. He even seemed to
David to have grown taller in these two months.

"I have improved, haven't I? I can't say as much for you. What is the
trouble, Davie?"

Philip laid his hand on his shoulder again, and brought his laughing
brown face close to David's. But David drew himself away. He hated
himself for the feeling of anger and envy that rose in his heart as he
looked at Philip. Why should life be so easy to him? Why should the
summer have passed so differently to them? At the moment he was very
miserable, tired of his trouble and of his laborious life, faithless and
afraid. So he withdrew from the young man's touch, and turned away
saying nothing.

"Is it as bad as that? Can't I help you? Frank seemed to think I
might, though I could not make out from his letter what was the trouble
or how I could help you out of it. Is it about money, Davie? Have you
got into a scrape at last?"

"A scrape!" repeated David. "No you cannot help me, I am afraid. I
should be sorry to trouble you."

"Trouble! Nonse