"Never?" cried Mr. Vosky. "Then listen to what I have to say. My entire
fortune I owe to you. All my success I lay at your door."

Alfred looked at him in astonishment and shook his head.

"Did you never help a poor boy, by giving him fifty pounds?"

"Just now I don't remember ever having done any poor boy such a
charity."

"Now," said Vosky, "perhaps you may remember a nightingale that you
wished to have brought to your mother's garden. You will recall that
poor stable-boy who managed it for you."

"Oh, yes," said Alfred, "I remember the boy very well. He was a poor,
worthy, ambitious lad, named Michael Warden. The last I heard of him was
when he went out into the world as a wheelwright, to make his fortune."

"So, you do remember him. Well, that boy Michael was none other than
myself. Now I am the owner of a large factory, besides being financial
adviser to the Czar. I had my name legally changed to Vosky. I was that
stable-boy, that wheelwright."

"You!" cried Alfred, filled with admiration and astonishment. He sprang
forward and embraced his benefactor. "But why didn't you tell me all
this at first?"

"That was impossible," said Vosky. "It would have taken too long to
explain; and my business affairs were so pressing, and you were so
exhausted, that you could not have listened to a detailed account. I