“He was good to me once, sir—good as gold. It was he who took me to your counting-room, and recommended me.” The old man was feeling in his pocket. He recognized the boy. “How much will do, my boy?” he said, in high good humor. “Say five—that’ll set me up tip-top.” The old man handed him a bank-note. “Twenty dollars, by golly!” cried the boy, putting his hat on with a swing of the arm. “Old gentleman, you’re a trump, and he’s a right bower! Good evening! I’m set up for life, I am!” As Mr. Gould was turning to go in again, the mistress of the tenement-house passed him. “Every thing is right,” she said. “You wont want me.” “But I want you,” said Mr. Gould. “No woman who has been the friend to my wife that you have, must pass me without thanks. Tell me, what can I do for you?” “Nothing, sir; that is, nothing in particular; only if you would just tell that agent of yourn not to be quite so hard about the rent of that house. I shall have to give it up if he is.” “What! do you live in a house of mine?” “Yes, sir; and have these six years.” “Where is it?” She told him. “What! that old tenement? Come to my office in the morning, and I’ll give you a deed for it. Don’t forget.” “Oh, sir!” “Don’t forget. You know the place.” “Never fear, sir; I wont let her forget,” said Robert, rejoicing in his heart. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” said the old man, entering the parlor, “let us see what the fairies have brought us for supper. Mr. Halstead, will you take Mrs. Gould? Your mother and I are good friends now—I will take her.” “Miss Eliza, shall I have the honor?” It was young Gould, prompted by Georgiana. “No, no! I am faint—I am ill; pray leave me!” “Oh, do come!” said Robert, who was everywhere that night. “Such birds! Such partridges! Such chicken-salad!” “Mr. Gould, to oblige you, I will make an effort,” said Miss Eliza. “Sometimes a mouthful of chicken-salad brings me to when nothing else will. Forgive me if I lean heavily.” She did lean heavily; and beside that one mouthful of chicken-salad, there was considerable devastation among the birds in her neighborhood, to say nothing of the breast of a partridge that disappeared altogether. Then came champagne in large glasses, which gave light to Miss Eliza’s tearful eyes, color to cheeks that did not need it, and warmth to that poor heart, just broken for the twentieth time. That is all I have to say on the subject. THE END. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. NEW BOOKS ISSUED EVERY WEEK. Comprising the most entertaining and absorbing works published, suitable for the Parlor, Library, Sitting Room, Railroad or Steamboat reading, by the best writers in the world.