"Look here," said John to the bright-faced boy in the hotel office, a
half hour later. "It seems the house here's been changing hands
again."

"Yes, sir," said the boy, closing the cigar case, and handing him a
lighted match. "Well, the new landlord, whoever he is," continued
John, patronizingly, "is a good one. Leastwise, he knows what's good
to eat, and how to serve it."

The boy laughed timidly,--"It aint a landlord,' though--it's a
landlady; it's my mother."

"Ah," said John, dallying with the change the boy had pushed toward
him. "Your mother, eh?" And where's your father?"

"He's dead," said the boy.

"And what's this for?" abruptly asked John, examining his change.

"That's your change," said the boy: "You got three for a quarter, and
gave me a half."

"Well, _you_ just keep it," said John, sliding back the change. "It's
for good luck, you know, my boy. Same as drinking your long life and
prosperity. And, Oh yes, by the way, you may tell your mother I'll
have a friend to dinner with me to-day."

"Yes, sir, and thank you, sir," said the beaming boy.

"Handsome boy!" mused John, as he walked down street. "Takes that from