us lie. "He said twenty-five cents; and I
told him I could buy one up in Riverdale, where I came from, for six
cents. Can you deny that?"

"It's a lie!" protested Timmins.

"Riverdale," said Mr. Bayard. "Are you from Riverdale, boy?"

"Yes, sir, I am; and if you will look on your memorandum book you will
find my name there."

"Bless me! I am sure I have seen that face before," exclaimed
Mr. Bayard, as he grasped the hand of Bobby, much to the astonishment
and consternation of Mr. Timmins. "You are----"

"Robert Bright, sir."

"My brave little fellow! I am heartily glad to see you;" and the
bookseller shook the hand he held with hearty good will. "I was
thinking of you only a little while ago."

"This fellow calls me a liar," said Bobby, pointing to the astonished
Mr. Timmins, who did not know what to make of the cordial reception
which "Country" was receiving from his employer.

"Well, Robert, we know that _he_ is a liar; this is not the first
time he has been caught in a lie. Timmins, your time is out."

The spruce clerk hung his head with shame and mortification.

"I hope, sir, you will----" he began, but pride or fear stopped him
short.

"Don't be hard with him, sir, if you please," said Bobby. "I suppose I
aggravated him."

Mr. Bayard looked at the gentleman who stood by his side, and a smile
of approbation lighted up his face.

"Generous as he is noble! Butler, this is the boy that saved Ellen."

"Indeed! He is a little giant!" replied Mr. Butler, grasping Bobby's
hand.

Even Timmins glanced with something like admiration in his looks at
the youth whom he had so lately despised. Perhaps, too, he thought of
that Scripture wisdom about entertaining angels unawares. He was very
much abashed, and nothing but his silly pride prevented him from
acknowledging his error and begging Bobby's forgiveness.

"I can't have a liar about me," said Mr. Bayard.

"There may be some mistake," suggested Mr. Butler.

"I think not. Robert Bright couldn't lie. So brave and noble a boy is
incapable of a falsehood. Besides, I got a letter from my friend
Squire Lee by this morning's mail, in which he informed me of my young
friend's coming."

Mr. Bayard took from his pocket a bundle of letters, and selected the
squire's from among them. Opening it, he read a passage which had a
direct bearing upon the case before him.

"'I do not know what Bobby's faults are,'"--the letter said,--"'but
this I do know: that Bobby wo