obsequiously approached Flynn's bridle-rein. But the rider waved him
off, and, turning sternly to Clarence, said:--

"What's the matter now?"

"Nothing," said Clarence, striving to keep back the hot tears that rose
in his eyes. "But you were going away without saying 'good-by.' You've
been very kind to me, and--and--I want to thank you!"

A deep flush crossed Flynn's face. Then glancing suspiciously towards
the corridor, he said hurriedly,--

"Did HE send you?"

"No, I came myself. I heard you going."

"All right. Good-by." He leaned forward as if about to take Clarence's
outstretched hand, checked himself suddenly with a grim smile, and
taking from his pocket a gold coin handed it to the boy.

Clarence took it, tossed it with a proud gesture to the waiting peon,
who caught it thankfully, drew back a step from Flynn, and saying, with
white cheeks, "I only wanted to say good-by," dropped his hot eyes to
the ground. But it did not seem to be his own voice that had spoken, nor
his own self that had prompted the act.

There was a quick interchange of glances between the departing guest and
his late host, in which Flynn's eyes flashed with an odd, admiring fire,
but when Clarence raised his head again he was gone. And as the boy
turned back with a broken heart towards the corridor, his cousin laid