“Take no unworthy means,” he said; “I will neither sanction or take advantage of any thing forced or dishonorable.” Ward laughed. “What has come over you?” he said. “Capricious as ever; carried off by some other pretty face, I dare say?” “No, there you mistake.” “Well, well! you will join us to-night?” “No; I promised my uncle to give all that sort of thing up.” “You did?” “Yes; God bless the dear old fellow! He came down so handsomely—without a word, too; asked no promise—found no fault.” “But you made a promise and a very silly one.” “Possibly—time will show; at least I will be neither false nor ungrateful, if I can help it.” Here Ward’s eyes fell upon the note, with its dainty seal—and he laughed a little maliciously. “Oh! Ha! I understand! A new flame,” he cried. “You can look at the address,” said Gould, quietly; “and read it, if you like.” Ward took up the note, and looked surprised. “This lad would have brought it to you in half an hour,” said Gould. Ward tore the note open, and a thousand dollar bill dropped out. He picked it up, glanced at the amount, and then at Robert. “And you would have intrusted this to that child—who is he?” “Our new errand-boy.” “But his name?” “I really don’t know it.” “And without knowing his name, you would intrust him with this?” “Yes, or ten times as much.” “But what do you know about him?” “Nothing.” “Who recommended him?” “I recommended him,” broke forth the newsboy. “What have you to say against that, I want to know?” Ward measured the indignant newsboy with his scornful eyes, folded up the treasury-note, and left the counting-room a good deal crest-fallen and annoyed. Robert and his literary friend followed him, and, I regret to say, the latter put both hands up to his face, and ground an imaginary coffee-mill with vigor during the moment in which Ward turned to look upon him as he passed round the nearest corner. As for Robert, he did not clearly comprehend the movement, for old Mrs. Burns had kept him in-doors a great deal of the time, and his education, in some particulars, was incomplete. CHAPTER XI. AN INTRUDER. When Anna Burns left her little brother near the garden wall, she turned down the next street, and met young Savage coming from an opposite direction. His face flushed pleasantly, and his eyes brightened as he saw her. “Miss Burns, how happy I am to have met you,” he said, turning back and walking by her side. “I would have called, but was afraid of intruding upon your sorrow. How is the dear old lady?” Anna had been flushing red and turning white, like the sensitive, modest creature she was, till he looked kindly down into her face, and asked this question; then she lifted her eyes and answered him with a smile that made his heart leap.