"This is all _I_ have for the present," he said to her one day, when paying his week's bill. "I thought you ought to know. I do not wish to appear a swindler,"--with a gloomy smile. "You a swindler!" exclaimed the good woman, with glistening eyes. "I would trust you as far as I would trust myself. If you haven't any money, never mind. You shall stay, and pay me when you can. Don't worry yourself at all. It will turn out right, I am sure. You'll have pupils yet." "I trust so," said Salmon, touched by her kindness. "At all events, if my life is spared, you shall be paid some day. Now you know how I am situated; and if you choose to keep me longer on an uncertainty, I shall be greatly obliged to you." His voice shook a little as he spoke. "As long as you please," she replied. Just then there was a knock. "Maybe that is for you!" And she hastened away, rather to conceal her emotion, I suspect, than in the hope of admitting a patron for her boarder. She returned in a minute with shining countenance. "A gentleman and his little boy, to see Mr. ----! I have shown them into the parlor." Salmon was amazed. Could it be true? A pupil at last! He gave a hurried glance at himself In the mirror, straightened his shirt-collar, gave his hair a touch, and descended, with beating heart, to meet his visitor. He was dignified enough, however, on entering the parlor, and so cool you would never have suspected that he almost felt his fate depending upon this gentleman's business. He was a Frenchman,--polite, affable, and of a manner so gracious, you would have said he had come to beg a favor, rather than to grant one. "This is Mr. ----? My name is Bonfils. This is my little boy. We have come to entreat of you the kindness to take him into your school." "I will do so most gladly!" said Salmon, shaking the boy's hand. "You are very good. We shall be greatly indebted to you. When does your school commence?" "As soon, Sir, as I shall have engaged a sufficient number of pupils." "All! you have not a great number, then?" "I have none," Salmon was obliged to confess. "None? You surprise me! I have seen your advertisement, I hear good things said of you,--why, then, no pupils?" "I am hardly known yet. Allow me to count your son here my first, and I have no doubt but others will soon come in." "Assuredly! Make your compliments to Mr. ----, my son. I shall interest myself. I think I shall send you some pupils. In mean time, my son will wait." And with many expressions of good-will the cheerful Monsieur Bonfils withdrew. This was a gleam of hope. The door of Providence had opened just a crack. It opened no farther, however. No more pupils came. Salmon waited. Day after day glided by like sand under his feet. He could not afford even to advertise now. He was getting fearfully in debt; and debt is always a nightmare to a generous and upright mind. "Any pupils yet?" asked Monsieur Bonfils, meeting him, one day, in the street.