od, the most daring act he had ever
perpetrated. The slight noise thus produced crashed on his guilty ears
like thunder, or rather with the roar of a universal earthquake.
Slight, however, as it was, it brought out Mr. Latitat from his
interior.

"What the deuse are you making such a racket for?" he exclaimed in
tones that thrilled to the heart of his employee; then, without
waiting for an answer, he slightly glanced at the table, and asked,
"Have you got through that job?"

"Yes'm--I mean, yes'r" replied the quivering Simon.

"Well, then, you can go. I'm going myself. You blow out the lights and
lock the room. And mind and be here early to-morrow morning. Nothing
like beginning the New Year well. Good night."

"Mr. Latitat, sir!" cried Quillpen, with desperate resolution, as he
saw the great man about to disappear--"please, sir--could you let me
have a little money to-night?"

"Why! what do you want of money?" retorted the lawyer. "O! I 'spose
you have a host of unpaid bills."

"No, sir; no, sir; that's not it," Simon hastened to say. "I hain't
got narry bill standing. I pay as I go. Cash takes the lot!"

"None of your coarse, vulgar slang to me!" said Latitat. "Reserve it
for your loose companions. If not to pay bills, what for?"

"Please, sir,--we, that is Mrs. Q. and myself, want to put something
in the children's stockings, sir."

"Then put the children's legs in 'em!" said the lawyer with a grin. "I
make no payments to be used for any such ridiculous purposes. Good
night. Yet stay--take this letter--there's money in it--a large
amount--put it in the post-office with your own hands as you go
home."

"And you can't let me have a trifle?" gasped Simon.

"Not a cent!" snarled the lawyer; and he slammed the door behind him,
and went heavily down the stairs.

"I wonder how it feels to punch a man's head," said Simon, as he stood
rooted to the spot where Mr. Latitat left him. "It's illegal--it's
actionable--there are fines and penalties provided by the statute: but it
seems as if there were cases that might justify the operation--morally. But
then, again--what good would it do to punch his head? Punching his head
wouldn't get me money--and if I was to try it, on finding that the licks
didn't bring out the cash, I might be tempted to help myself to the cash,
and that would be highway robbery; and when the punchee ventured to suggest
that, the puncher might be tempted to silence him. O Lord! that's the way