on that three hundred guineas; the
horse was really worth about a hundred pounds."

"It makes no matter," replied his father, but now with less of
irritation in his voice, "whether it was worth three hundred guineas or
one hundred pounds. I want to know who is going to pay for it, for
certainly _I_ am not."

"You must stop it out of my allowance," said Walter sorrowfully.

"And how many years will it take to pay off the debt, then, I should
like to know?" asked his father bitterly.

Again there was a few moments' silence. But now Amos stepped forward
once more, and said quietly, "Father, I will take the debt upon myself."

"_You_, Amos!" exclaimed all his three hearers, but in very different
tones.

Poor Walter fairly broke down, sobbing like a child, and then threw
himself into his brother's arms and kissed him warmly. Mr Huntingdon
was taken quite aback, and tried in vain to hide his emotion. Miss
Huntingdon wept bright tears of gladness, for she saw that Amos was
making progress with his father, and getting nearer to his heart.

"There, then," said her brother with trembling voice, "we must make the
best of a bad job.--Walter, don't let's have any more steeplechases.--
Amos, my dear boy, I've said I wouldn't pay, so I must stick to it, but
we'll make up the loss to you in some way or other."

"All right, dear father," replied Amos, hardly able to speak for
gladness. Never for years past had Mr Huntingdon called him "dear."
That one word from his father was worth the whole of the hundred pounds
to him twice over.

The squire had business with one of the tenants in the library that
evening, so his sister and her two nephews were alone in the drawing-
room after dinner.

"Aunt," said Walter, "look at my hands; do you know what this means?"
His hands were crossed on his knees.

"I think I do," she replied with a smile; "but do you tell me yourself."

"Why, it means this,--_I_ am going to bring forward for our general
edification an example of moral courage to-night, and my hero is no less
a person than Martin Luther; and there is _my_ Martin Luther." As he
said this he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, and looked at
him with a bright and affectionate smile. "Yes, he is my Martin Luther:
only, instead of his being brought before a `Diet of Worms,' a very
substantial _diet_ of fish, flesh, and fowl has just been brought before
_him_; and instead of having to appear before the Emperor Charles t