106 A GOOD INVESTMENT.

 

The mercantile friend was silent. If
ever in his life he had envied the reward
of a good deed, it was at that moment.

“To-day,” went on Mr. Winslow, “I
have received a still larger dividend. I
was passing along Buttonwood street, when
I met old Mr. Davis coming out of a house,
the rent of which, from its appearance, was
not less than two hundred and twenty-five
dollars. ‘ You don’t live here, of course ?”
said I, for I knew the old man’s income to
be small—not over six or seven dollars a
week. ‘Qh, yes, I do, he made answer,
with a smile. I turned and looked at the
house again. ‘ How comes this?’ I asked.
‘You must be getting better off in the
world. ‘So Iam, was his reply. ‘ Has
anybody left you a little fortune? I in-
quired. ‘No, but you have helped me to
one, said he. ‘I don’t understand you,
Mr. Davis, I made answer. ‘Edward
rents the house for us,’ said the old man.
‘Do you understand now ?

“T understood him perfectly. It was