"Oh, very well," said the man. "I'm sorry if I've troubled you. I'll
get the money from a friend. Good morning."

And he turned off abruptly, and left the store. Mr. Abercrombie felt
rebuked. He had a large balance in the bank, and could have
accommodated him without the smallest inconvenience. In another
state of mind he would have done so cheerfully.

"O dear!" sighed the unhappy merchant, speaking mentally; "what has
come over me? I'm losing all control of myself. This will never,
never do. I must set a guard upon my lips."

And he did so. Conscious of his state of irritability, he subdued
his tones of voice, and restrained utterance when tempted to angry
or inconsiderate speech. Not again during the day was he guilty of
such inexcusable conduct as in the instances mentioned; yet the
shadow remained upon his feelings, strive as he would to throw off
the gloomy impression.

It was late in the day when Mr. Abercrombie turned his steps
homeward. How little was he satisfied with himself! And now, when he
remembered, with painful distinctness, the clouded brow of his wife,
how little promise was there of home-sunlight, to dispel the gloom
of his own feelings!

As the hand of the merchant rested upon his own door, he almost
dreaded to enter. He shrank from meeting that clouded visage. The
shadows were dark when he left in the morning, and experience told
him that he need scarcely hope to find them dispelled. Happily,