his entrance. There was an
uprightness and nobleness too, characterizing Guly's every deed which
the merchant had not failed to observe, and which had created a respect
and esteem for the boy even in that obdurate heart.

Mr. Delancey stepped down from his high desk, and began to traverse the
space between it and the long windows. But every turn brought him nearer
and nearer to the little bed-room door, and at last, certain that he was
unobserved, he laid his hand upon the knob and slipped in.

If ever the merchant displayed his awkwardness, it was in a sick room;
the knowledge of which fact, perhaps, made him so rare a frequenter of
such places.

As he stopped at Guly's bedside, with his long fingers pressed down
among the pillows, the boy opened his eyes, and looked up in his face
with a smile, expecting to see Wilkins or Arthur. He was greatly
surprised at seeing his employer, but immediately extended his hand and
said:

"Is it possible 'tis you, Mr. Delancey? This is an unexpected pleasure."

Mr. Delancey took the proffered hand in his, held it loosely for a
moment in his bony fingers, as if unaccustomed to holding friendly
hands, then let it drop back again upon the bed-clothes.

"Why is my presence so unexpected? Don't you suppose I ever look in on
sick clerks?"

"I certainly hope so, sir; I scarcely expected it in my case; but I am
very happy to be disappointed--sit down sir?"

The merchant seated himself, and said:

"So you got in a row last night."

"In _trouble_, sir; most unfortunately. I hope that it is the last case
of the kind."

"Yes, bad to have your place empty--want all my men at their posts. Get
about as soon as you can. Be up to-morrow, I 'spose?"

"Yes, sir, God willing."

"God willing! Do you always put that in?" said Mr. Delancey, half rising
from his chair, then reseating himself.

"Yes, sir, always."

The merchant sat for a moment, with his cold eye fixed on his earnest
face.

"Invariably you say that, eh?"

"Invariably, sir."

"Humph! I don't!" returned the other, rising abruptly from the chair,
and, without another word, he slipped out of the little door as
cautiously as he had entered, and again took his seat at his desk.

The day wore on with an occasional visit from Arthur, a frequent one
from Wilkins, and numerous inquiries sent by all the clerks, who could
not help but feel an interest in the young sufferer.

By the increased darkness of the room, Guly knew the