ur later, the brakeman shouted the name of the station where
they must stop. Lyman assisted Mr. Randal off the train, and walked with
him to the principal street. "Here's Mr. Harrington's office," said he.

"Oh, yes, thank you kindly. And now could you tell me where Mr. Luke
Conway's place of business is?"

"Why, that's the very gentleman I'm going to see," said Lyman. "His
place is just round the corner, only two blocks off."

Mr. Randal was deeply interested. He turned and shook the boy's hand,
warmly. "Lyman," he said, "Mr. Conway knows me. I am going to see him
by-and-by. I am really obliged to you for your politeness, and wish I
could do something for you. I hope Mr. Conway will give you the
situation, for you deserve it. If you apply before I get there, tell him
Gideon Randal is your friend. Good-by."

Fifteen minutes after found Lyman waiting in the counting-room of Luke
Conway's store. Albert Gregory had just preceded him. The merchant was
writing, and he had requested the boys to be seated a short time, till
he was at leisure. Before he finished his work, a slow, feeble step was
heard approaching, and an old man stood in the doorway.

"Luke, don't you remember me?" The merchant looked up at the sound of
the voice. Then he sprang from his chair and grasped the old man's hands
in both his own.

[Illustration: "_Welcome, my benefactor!_"]

"Mr. Randal! Welcome, a thousand times welcome, my benefactor!" he
exclaimed. Seating his guest, Mr. Conway inquired after his health and
comfort, and talked with him as tenderly as a loving son. It was
evident to the quick perception of the merchant that the good old man's
circumstances had changed, and he soon made it easy for him to unburden
his mind.

"Yes, Luke, I am in trouble. Aaron Harrington owns a mortgage on my
farm. I can't pay him, and he threatens to take my home," said Mr.
Randal, with a quivering lip. "I went to his office, but didn't find
him, and I thought may be you'd advise me what to do."

"Mr. Randal," answered the merchant, laying his hand on the old man's
shoulder, "almost thirty years ago when I was cold, and hungry, and
friendless, you took me in and fed me. Your good wife--God bless
her!--made me a suit of clothes with her own hands. You found me work,
and you gave me money when I begun the world alone. Much if not all that
I am in life I owe to your sympathy and help, my kind old friend. Now I
am rich, and you must let me cancel my debt. I s