hankfulness. Holt's lips also quivered, and bright tears
of happiness streamed from the eyes of the mother.

"I am obliged to you, my little friends, for your greetings and for
your prayers," spoke the millionaire. "You are well brought up.
Continue always to be good children, such as you now are; have the fear
of God, and honor your parents."

"Mr. Seraphin," said Holt, drawing a paper from his pocket, "here is
the note that I have redeemed with the money you gave me. I wanted to
show it to you, so that you might know for certain that the money had
been applied to the proper purpose."

Gerlach affected to take an interest in the paper, and read over the
receipt.

"But there is one thing, Mr. Seraphin," continued Holt, "that grieves
me. And that is, that there is not anything better than mere words with
which I can testify my gratitude to you. I would like ever so much to
do something for you--to do something for you worth speaking of. Do you
know, Mr. Seraphin, I would be willing to shed the last drop of my
blood for you?"

"Never mind that, Holt! It is ample recompense for me to know that I
have helped a worthy man out of trouble. You can now, Mrs. Holt, set to
work with renewed courage. But," added he archly, "you will have to
watch your husband that he may not again fall into the clutches of
beasts of prey like Shund."

"He has had to pay dearly for his experience, Mr. Seraphin. I used
often to say to him: 'Michael, don't trust Shund. Shund talks too much,
he is too sweet altogether, he has some wicked design upon us--don't
trust him.' But, you see, Mr. Seraphin, my husband thinks that all
people are as upright as he is himself, and he believed that Shund
really meant to deal fairly as he pretended. But Michael's wits are
sharpened now, and he will not in future be so ready to believe every
man upon his word. Nor will he, hereafter, borrow one single penny, and
he will never again undertake to buy anything unless he has the money
in hand to pay for it."

"In what street do you live?" inquired Gerlach.

"Near the turnpike road, Mr. Seraphin. Do you see that knoll?" He
pointed through the window in a direction unobstructed by the trees of
the garden. "Do you see that dense shade-tree, and yon whitewashed wall
behind the tree? That is our walnut-tree--my grandfather planted it.
And the white wall is the wall of our house."

"I have passed there twice--the road leads to the beech grove," said
the millionaire