"Mr. Morton is engaged, sir. I can give you what you want." "No--it is a matter of business--important business." The boy eyed the napless and dripping hat, the gloveless hands, and the rusty neckcloth of the speaker; and said, as he passed his fingers through a profusion of light curls "Mr. Morton don't attend much to business himself now; but that's he. Any cravats, sir?" The man made no answer, but moved where, near the window, and chatting with the banker of the town (as the banker tried on a pair of beaver gloves), sat still--after due apology for sitting--Mr. Roger Morton. The alderman lowered his spectacles as he glanced grimly at the lean apparition that shaded the spruce banker, and said,-- "Do you want me, friend?" "Yes, sir, if you please;" and the man took off his shabby hat, and bowed low. "Well, speak out. No begging petition, I hope?" "No, sir! Your nephews--" The banker turned round, and in his turn eyed the newcomer. The linendraper started back. "Nephews!" he repeated, with a bewildered look. "What does the man mean? Wait a bit." "Oh, I've done!" said the banker, smiling. "I am glad to find we agree so well upon this question: I knew we should. Our member will never suit us if he goes on in this way. Trade must take care of itself. Good day to You!" "Nephews!" repeated Mr. Morton, rising, and beckoning to the man to follow him into the back parlour, where Mrs. Morton sat casting up the washing bills. "Now," said the husband, closing the door, "what do you mean, my good fellow?" "Sir, what I wish to ask you is-if you can tell me what has become of--of the young Beau--, that is, of your sister's sons. I understand there were two--and I am told that--that they are both dead. Is it so?" "What is that to you, friend?" "An please you, sir, it is a great deal to them!" "Yes--ha! ha! it is a great deal to everybody whether they are alive or dead!" Mr. Morton, since he had been mayor, now and then had his joke. "But really--" "Roger!" said Mrs. Morton, under her breath--"Roger!" "Yes, my dear." "Come this way--I want to speak to you about this bill." The husband approached, and bent over his wife. "Who's this man?" "I don't know." "Depend on it, he has some claim to make-some bills or something. Don't commit yourself--the boys are dead for what we know!" Mr. Morton hemmed and returned to his visitor. "To tell you the truth, I am not aware of what has become of the young men." "Then they are not dead--I thought not!" exclaimed the man, joyously. "That's more than I can say. It's many years since I lost sight of the only one I ever saw; and they may be both dead for what I know." "Indeed!" said the man. "Then you can give me no kind of--of--hint like, to find them out?" "No. Do they owe you anything?" "It does not signify talking now, sir. I beg your pardon." "Stay--who are you?" "I am a very poor man, sir." Mr. Morton recoiled.