somewhere else, and not interrupt good feeling among gentlemen."

"Got my last sixpence," retorted Joe, turning his pockets inside-
out again. "No more use for me here to-night. That's the way of
the world. How apt a scholar is our good friend Dustycoat, in this
new school! Well, he was a good miller--no one ever disputed that
--and it's plain to see that he is going to make a good landlord. I
thought his heart was a little too soft; but the indurating
process has begun, and, in less than ten years, if it isn't as
hard as one of his old mill-stones, Joe Morgan is no prophet. Oh,
you needn't knit your brows so, friend Simon, we're old friends;
and friends are privileged to speak plain."

"I wish you'd go home. You're not yourself tonight," said the
landlord, a little coaxingly, for he saw that nothing was to be
gained by quarreling with Morgan. "Maybe my heart is growing
harder," he added, with affected good-humor; "and it is time,
perhaps. One of my weaknesses, I have heard even you say, was
being too woman-hearted."

"No danger of that now," retorted Joe Morgan. "I've known a good
many landlords in my time, but can't remember one that was
troubled with the disease that once afflicted you."

Just at this moment the outer door was pushed open with a slow,
hesitating motion; then a little pale face peered in, and a pair
of soft blue eyes went searching about the room. Conversation was
instantly hushed, and every face, excited with interest, turned
toward the child, who had now stepped through the door. She was
not over ten years of age; but it moved the heart to look upon the