"Hallo!" cried Clinton, suddenly stopping before an illuminated window, and peering earnestly into it, "the new numbers for the next lottery are up; come on, let's go in, and take one jointly." Arthur thought of his lost portemonnaie, and felt strongly tempted to run the risk of recovering his money in that way; but he remembered that he had nothing wherewith to buy a ticket, and hesitated. "Don't," said Guly, earnestly, "don't be led into such folly, Arthur. Come, let's go back to the store." "Not till you have tried your luck once," said Clinton, persuasively; "come, it is but a trifle if you lose it, and think of the chance you run." "I've left my purse at home," said Arthur, blushing at the falsehood he stooped to utter; "I would really like to join, but can't to-night, really." "Pooh! if the money is all, I'll advance that; and you can pay me when you like. Come along." Arthur entered the shop reluctantly, it is true, yet ashamed to confess to his social, open-hearted companion, the compunction he felt. The ticket was purchased, and half given to Arthur. "If you are determined to purchase a ticket, Arthur," said Guly, gravely, "I must insist that you do not run in debt to Mr. Clinton for it," and opening his purse, he handed to that gentleman the sum just expended for his brother's half of the ticket. "You are very particular," remarked Clinton, with something like a sneer, and pocketing the change, while he glanced with a look of impertinent curiosity at Guly's grave but beautiful features. "Do you go our way?" inquired Arthur, turning toward him as they left the shop. "No; sorry to say I don't," returned Clinton, lighting a cigar, and offering one to each of the brothers, who refused it. "I am really sorry to part with you; but if you must go, good-night," and with a graceful move of the hand, the young gentleman bade an adieu to his friends, and turning down another street, was soon out of sight. The brothers walked on for some distance in silence. Guly was the first to speak. "Have you enjoyed your walk, Arthur, as much as you would have done, had we been left to enjoy ourselves in our own way?" "Well, I must say, Guly, that I've had a pleasant time. I think young Clinton a charming fellow, and must confess he has enlivened the last hour exceedingly." "And your heart and conscience are both quite as unburthened as they would have been had you not met him?" "I'm sure I've done nothing to burden either, Gulian," returned Arthur, somewhat impatiently. "You must remember I am several years older than you are, and am expected to act differently from a mere boy like yourself." "Did you remember that yesterday was your twenty-first birthday?" inquired Guly, quietly. "No!" said Arthur, with a slight start; "and your sixteenth birthday was last Monday! How differently have they passed from what they used to do at home, when they were always celebrated together."