"I'm going this minute. Good-bye, Phineas. Good day, sir. Is there
anything you want done?"

He stood before his master, cap in hand, with an honest manliness
pleasant to see. Any master might have been proud of such a servant-
-any father of such a son. My poor father--no, he did not once look
from John Halifax to me. He would not have owned for the world that
half-smothered sigh, or murmured because Heaven had kept back from
him--as, Heaven knows why, it often does from us all!--the one desire
of the heart.

"John Halifax, thee hast been of great service to me this night.
What reward shall I give thee?"

And instinctively his hand dived down into his pocket. John turned
away.

"Thank you--I'd rather not. It is quite enough reward that I have
been useful to my master, and that he acknowledges it."

My father thought a minute, and then offered his hand. "Thee'rt in
the right, lad. I am very much obliged to thee, and I will not
forget it."

And John--blushing brightly once more--went away, looking as proud as
an emperor, and as happy as a poor man with a bag of gold.

"Is there nothing thou canst think of, Phineas, that would pleasure
the lad?" said my father, after we had been talking some time--though