Mr. Newt looked out of the window.

"Your father's been unfortunate?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How's that? Has he told a lie, or lost his eyes, or his health, or has
his daughter married a drunkard?" asked Mr. Lawrence Newt, looking at the
lad with a kindly humor in his eyes.

"Oh no, Sir," replied the boy, surprised. "He's lost his money."

"Oh ho! his money! And it is the loss of money which you call
'unfortunate.' Now, my boy, think a moment. Is there any thing belonging
to your father which he could so well spare? Has he any superfluous boy
or girl? any useless arm or leg? any unnecessary good temper or honesty?
any taste for books, or pictures, or the country, that he would part
with? Is there any thing which he owns that it would not be a greater
misfortune to him to lose than his money? Honor bright, my boy. If you
think there is, say so!"

The youth smiled.

"Well, Sir, I suppose worse things could happen to us than poverty," said
he.

Mr. Lawrence Newt interrupted him by remarks which were belied by his
beaming face.