s to nourish those in
distress.

One night, it was late at night, Clitheroe stole guiltily in through the
private entrance, and sought succor of his uncle: this was an unctuous
uncle, who was as sympathetic and emotional as an undertaker. Paul
exhibited his watch; not for worlds would he part with it forever; money
he must have at once, and surely some good angel would come to his
assistance before many days; this state of affairs could not exist much
longer. Mine uncle examined the watch with kindly eyes; with a pathetic
shake of his head, a pitiful lifting of his bushy eyebrows, a
commiserating shrug of his fat shoulders, and a petulant pursing of his
plump lips as much as to say, "Well, it is a pity, but we must make the
best of it, you know"--he told Clitheroe he would advance him ten
dollars on the watch. For this the boy was to pay one dollar per week,
and in the end receive his watch, as good as new, for the sum of ten
dollars, as originally advanced. Paul hesitated, but consented since he
had no choice in the matter.

"What name?" asked the Uncle, benevolently.

"P. Clitheroe," said Paul under his breath, as if he feared the whole
world might know of his disgrace; he looked upon this transaction as
nothing short of disgrace, and he wished to keep it a profound secret.

"Oh, yes; I know the name very well. Well, Mr. Clitheroe, here is your
ticket; take good care of it; and here is your money--you will always
pay your money in advance, and weekly, until you redeem your pledge. I
deduct the dollar for the first week."

Clitheroe took the proffered money, and withdrew. To his surprise and
chagrin he found himself possessed of but nine dollars. "It will not go
far," thought he with a heavy sigh; "and where is the dollar to come
from? I don't see that I have gained much by this exchange."

What he gained was this: for fifteen weeks he managed by the strictest
economy to pay his dollar. At the end of that time, he no longer found
it possible to even pay a dollar and the affair with the Uncle ended
with his having lost, not only his watch, but sixteen dollars into the
bargain.

* * * * *

A month has passed: the sun is streaming through the tall narrow windows
of a small chapel; the air is flooded with the music that floats from
the organ loft, the solemn strains of a requiem chanted by sweet
boy-voices; clouds of fragrant incense half obscure the altar, where the
priest in black