The last boy in the line differed apparently in no respect from those who had preceded him. The faces of all of them were black with coal-dust, and their clothes were patched and soiled. But this one had just cut his hand, and, as he held it up to let the blood drip from it you noticed that it was small and delicate in shape. "Why, my boy!" exclaimed Mr. Burnham, "you have cut your hand. Let me see." "'Taint much, sir," the lad replied; "I often cut 'em a little. You're apt to, a-handlin' the coal that way." The man had the little hand in his and bent to examine the wound. "That's quite a cut," he said, "as clean as though it had been made with a knife. Come, let's wash it off and fix it up a little." He led the way to the corner of the room, uncovered the water-pail, dipped out a cup of water, and began to bathe the bleeding hand. "That shows it's good coal, sir," said the boy, "Poor coal wouldn't make such a clean cut as that. The better the coal the sharper 'tis." "Thank you," said Mr. Burnham, smiling. "Taking the circumstances into consideration, I regard that as the best compliment for our coal that I have ever received." The hand had been washed off as well as water without soap could do it. "I guess that's as clean as it'll come," said the boy. "It's pirty hard work to git 'em real clean. The dirt gits into the corners so, an' into the chaps an' cuts, an' you can't git it all out, not even for Sunday." The man was looking around for something to bind up the wound with. "Have you a handkerchief?" he asked. The boy drew from an inner pocket what had once been a red bandanna handkerchief of the old style, but alas! it was sadly soiled, it was worn beyond repair and crumpled beyond belief. "'Taint very clean," he said, apologetically. "You can't keep a han'kerchy very clean a-workin' in the breaker, it's so dusty here." "Oh! it's good enough," replied the man, noticing the boy's embarrassment, and trying to reassure him, "it's plenty good enough, but it's red you see, and red won't do. Here, I have a white one. This is just the thing," he added, tearing his own handkerchief into strips and binding them carefully about the wounded hand. "There!" giving the bandage a final adjustment; "that will be better for it. Now, then, you're off to the circus; good-by." The lad took a step or two forward, hesitated a moment, and then turned back. The breaker boss and the screen-room boss were already gone and he was alone with Mr. Burnham. "Would it make any dif'rence to you," he asked, holding up the silver coin, "if I spent this money for sumpthin' else, an' didn't go to the circus with it?" "Why, no!" said the man, wonderingly, "I suppose not; but I thought you boys would rather spend your money at the circus than to spend it in almost any other way."