If there had been, in Donatello’s mind, any thought of rebuking his dilatory employee, that thought disappeared when he looked at him. Any one could see that the boy was suffering. “Why, Chick!” he exclaimed, “what is the matter? Have you been sick; yes?” “No,” replied Chick stoutly; “I ain’t been sick; I been busy. I jest come to say I’m goin’ to quit.” “To quit? You mean you will leave my employ?” “That’s what I mean. I can’t stan’ it here no longer.” “The work; is it too hard?” “No; that’s easy enough.” “Is it that I have been unkind to you?” “No; I ain’t got no fault to find the way I been treated. It’s account o’ Lieutenant ’Cormack.” “Has he asked you that you quit?” “No; no! He ain’t asked nothin’. But if I hadn’t ’a’ be’n here I wouldn’t ’a’ got into this trouble. If I hadn’t ’a’ heard what he said here that night I wouldn’t ’a’ had to be a witness ag’inst him. Now I’ve got to tell; and it’s goin’ to break him. I hadn’t no business to come here in the first place.” Chick dropped into a chair, put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. He was a picture of despair. Donatello gazed at him curiously for a moment, and said nothing. But when he did speak his voice was vibrant with sympathy. “It is not you,” he said, “who should yourself accuse. You have done nothing. If it is to blame, the fault is mine. It was I who asked him that he come. It was I who brought him into contact with these men to whom he spoke words. You have simply heard them. The law, it makes you tell that which you have heard. How can fault be yours?” He spread out his hands appealingly. “I don’t know,” replied Chick, wearily. “All I know is I hadn’t ought to ’a’ come here; and I’m goin’ to quit. That’s what I come for, to tell you I’m goin’ to quit. An’ you don’t owe me nothin’. You’ve treated me white; I want to be fair with you.” Even if there had been any basis for contention, Donatello would not have had the heart to argue the matter. The boy was suffering too keenly, and it was evident that his mind was made up. “It is as you will,” he said. “It must be so. If it is that I can commend you to the future employer, you shall ask it. I will so do--gladly.” “You’re good to say that,” replied Chick. “But I won’t need no recommend. I won’t never take no job in a printin’ shop ag’in.” He was through with his errand and he rose to go. He appeared to be dizzy, and Donatello, thinking he was about to fall, rose and reached toward him a helping hand. But the boy steadied himself without assistance and stood firm. “It ain’t nothin’,” he said. “I used to have them spells; but I got over ’em. I’ll git over these.” He put on his cap, said good-night to his sometime employer, and left the room. Donatello went with him to the head of the stairs and saw him reach the bottom of the flight in safety, then he returned to his room. But he did not immediately resume his work. He sat, for many minutes, his chin in his hand, in deep thought.