.

Swiftly he stepped back and in a moment his hand was on the switch. The
light flashed on, and in a moment he stood staring--at a fair-haired,
white-faced lad in a brown livery with brass buttons who stood staring
back at him with wide, scared eyes.

CHAPTER III

THE GIFT

Saltash was the first to recover himself; he was seldom disconcerted,
never for long.

"Hullo!" he said, with a quizzical twist of the eyebrows. "You, is it?
And what have you come for?"

The intruder lowered his gaze abruptly, flushing to the roots of his fair
hair. "I came," he said, in a very low voice, "to--to ask you something."

"Then you've come some distance to do it," said Saltash lightly, "for I
never turn back. Perhaps that was your idea, was it?"

"No--no!" With a vehement shake of the head he made answer. "I didn't
think you would start so soon. I thought--I would be able to ask you
first."

"Oh, indeed!" said Saltash. And then unexpectedly he laid a hand upon one
narrow shoulder and turned the downcast face upwards. "Ah! I thought he'd
marked you, the swine! What was he drubbing you for? Tell me that!"

A great purple bruise just above one eye testified to the severity of the
drubbing; the small, boyish countenance quivered sensitively under his
look. With sudden impulse two trembling hands closed tightly upon his
arm.

"Well?" said Saltash.

"Oh, please, sir--please, my lord, I mean--" with great earnestness the
words came--"let me stay with you! I'll earn my keep somehow, and I
shan't take up much room!"

"Oh, that's the idea, is it?" said Saltash.

"Yes--yes!" The boy's eyes implored him,--blue eyes with short black
lashes that imparted an oddly childish look to a face that was otherwise
thin and sharp with anxiety. "I can do anything. I don't want to live
on charity. I can work. I'd love to work--for you."

"You're a rum little devil, aren't you?" said Saltash.

"I'm honest, sir! Really I'm honest!" Desperately the bony hands clung.
"You won't be sorry if you take me. I swear you'll never be sorry!"

"What about you?" said Saltash. He was looking down into the upraised
face with a semi-quizzical compassion in his own. "Think you'd never be
sorry either?"

A sudden smile gleamed across the drawn face. "Of course I shouldn't!
You're English."

"Ah!" said Saltash, with a faintly wry expression. "Not necessarily white
on that account, my friend, so don't run away with that idea, I beg! I'm
quite capabl