is
head leaning upon his hand, and his brow contracted. There was a tap at
his door. "Come in." A poorly-clad, middle-aged woman entered. It was
his washerwoman.

The lines on the young man's brow became deeper.

"Can't you let me have some money, Mr. Peyton? My landlord is pressing
hard for his rent, and I cannot pay him until you pay me."

"Really, Mrs. Lee, it is impossible just now; I am entirely out of
money. But my salary will be due in three weeks, and then I will pay
you up the whole. You must make your landlord wait until that time. I
am very sorry to put you to this trouble. But it will never happen
again."

The young man really did feel sorry, and expressed it in his face as
well as in the tone of his voice.

"Can't you let me have one or two dollars, Mr. Peyton? I am entirely
out of money."

"It is impossible--I haven't a shilling left. But try and wait three
weeks, and then it will all come to you in a lump, and do you a great
deal more good than if you had it a dollar at a time."

Mrs. Lee retired slowly, and with a disappointed air. The young man
sighed heavily as she closed the door after her. He had been too
generous, and now he could not be just. The buggy in which he had
driven out with his friend on that day had cost him his last two
dollars--a sum which would have lightened the heart of his poor
washerwoman.

"The fact is, my salary is too small," said he, rising and walking
about his room uneasily. "It is not enough to support me. If the
account were fully made up, tailor's bill, bootmaker's bill, and all, I
dare say I should find myself at least three hundred dollars in debt."

Merwin received the same salary that he did, and was just three hundred
dollars ahead. He dressed as well, owed no man a dollar, and was far
happier. It is true, he was not called a "fine, generous fellow," by
persons who took good care of their own money, while they were very
willing to enjoy the good things of life at a friend's expense. But he
did not mind this. The want of such a reputation did not disturb his
mind very seriously.

After Mrs. Lee had been gone half an hour, Peyton's door was flung
suddenly open. A young man, bounding in, with extended hand came
bustling up to him.

"Ah, Peyton, my fine fellow! How are you? how are you?" And he shook
Peyton's hand quite vigorously.

"Hearty!--and how are you, Freeman?"

"Oh, gay as a lark. I have come to ask a favour of you."

"Name it."

"I want fi