20 FACING THE WORLD.

“No, ma’am ; you’re right, he doesn’t. He car-
ries his character in his face which, maybe, is bet-
ter than in his pocket. It was that which made
me ask his name and address, though I could do
nothing for him.”

“Then you were the gentleman who told him
you couldn’t keep a
dog and bark your-
self?” said Mrs.
Boyd, amused, and
just a shade hopeful.

“ Precisely. Nor
can I. It would have
been cool impudence
in alad to come and
ask to be taught his
work first and then
paid for it, if he
hadn’t been so very much in earnest that I was
rather sorry for him. I’m inclined to believe, from
the talk I had with him at the foot of the brae to-day,
that he is a young dog that would bark with uncom-
mon little teaching. Material, ma’am, is what we
want. I don’t care for its being raw material, if it’s
only of the right sort. I’ve made up my mind to
try your boy.”

“Thank God!”

“What did you say, ma’am ?
pardon.”

For he saw Mrs. Boyd had quite broken down.
In truth, the strain had been so long and so great
that this sudden relief was quite too much for her.
She sobbed heartily.

“JT ought to beg your pardon,” she said at last,
“for being so foolish, but we have had hard times
of late.”

And then, in a few simple words, she told Don-
ald’s whole story.

The old man listened to it in silence. Some-
times he nodded his head, or beat his chin on his
stout stick as he sat; but he made no comment
whatever, except a brief “ Thank you, ma’am.”

“Now to business,” continued he, taking out
his watch; “for I’m due at dinner; and I always
keep my appointments, even with myself. I hope
your Donald is a punctual lad?”

“Yes. He promised to be back by dark, and I
am sure he will be. Could you not wait?”

“No. I never wait for anybody; but I keep no-
body waiting for me. I’m Bethune & Co., Leith

 

MR. BETHUNE.

But — I beg your

Merchants — practically, old John Bethune, who
began life as a message-boy, and has done pretty
well, considering.”

He had, as Mrs. Boyd was well aware. Bethune
& Co. was a name so well known that she could
hardly believe in her boy’s good luck in getting
into that house in any capacity whatever.

“So all is settled,” said Mr. Bethune, rising.
“Let him come to me on Monday morning, and
I'll see what he is fit for. He’ll have to start at
the very bottom — sweep the office, perhaps — I
did it myself once —and I’ll give him —let me
see — ten shillings a week to begin with.”

“*¢To begin with,’” repeated Mrs. Boyd, gently
but firmly; “but he will soon be worth more. I
am sure of that.”

“Very well. When I see what stuff he is made
of, he shall have a rise. But I never do things at
haphazard; and it’s easier going up than coming
down. I’m not a benevolent man, Mrs. Boyd, and
you need not think it. But I’ve fought the world
pretty hard myself, and I like to help those that
are fighting it. Good evening. Isn’t that your
son coming round the corner? Well, he’s back ex-
act to his time, at any rate. Tell him I hope he
will be as punctual on Monday morning. Good
evening, ma’am.”

Now, if this were an imaginary story, I might
wind it up by a delightful denoument of Mr.
Bethune’s turning out an old friend of the family,
or developing into a new one, and taking such a
fancy to Donald that he immediately gave him a
clerkship with a large salary, and the promise of a
partnership on coming of age, or this worthy gen-
tleman should be an eccentric old bachelor who
immediately adopted that wonderful boy and be-
friended the whole Boyd family.

But neither of these things, nor anything else re-
markable, happened in the real story, which, as it
is literally true, though told with certain necessary
disguises, I prefer to keep to as closely as I can.
Such astonishing bits of “luck” do not happen in
real life, or happen so rarely that one inclines, at
last, to believe very little in either good or ill for-
tune, as a matter of chance. There is always
something at the back of it which furnishes a key
to the whole. Practically, a man’s lot is of his
own making. He may fail, for a while undeserv-
edly, or he may succeed undeservedly, but, in the