embarrassed by the man's persistent eyes.

"Then, of course," said the other quietly, "you don't require my twenty
dollars now."

"But," returned Clarence hesitatingly, "this isn't MY money. I must
find out who it belongs to, and give it back again. Perhaps," he added
timidly, "I might leave it here with you, and call for it when I find
the man, or send him here."

With the greatest gravity he here separated the surplus from what was
left of Peyton's gift and the twenty dollars he had just received. The
balance unaccounted for was forty dollars. He laid it on the desk before
the man, who, still looking at him, rose and opened the door.

"Mr. Reed."

The clerk who had shown Clarence in appeared.

"Open an account with--" He stopped and turned interrogatively to
Clarence.

"Clarence Brant," said Clarence, coloring with excitement.

"With Clarence Brant. Take that deposit"--pointing to the money--"and
give him a receipt." He paused as the clerk retired with a wondering
gaze at the money, looked again at Clarence, said, "I think YOU'LL do,"
and reentered the private office, closing the door behind him.

I hope it will not be deemed inconceivable that Clarence, only a few