“No sir!” said he at last, with a gasp that made the little one lift her curly head from her pillow and shake it with a slow and wistful motion strange to see in a child of only two years. The proud man bowed, not with the severity however that might have been expected; indeed his manner was strangely shadowed, and though his lip betrayed no uneasiness and his eye neither faltered or fell, there was a vague expression of awe upon his countenance, which it would take more than the simple understanding of the worthy but not over subtle man before him, to detect much less to comprehend. “You may be sure that Mr. Stuyvesant will never complain of any one having tampered with his effects while you are the guardian of the vaults,” exclaimed Mr. Sylvester in clear ringing tones. “As for his box being open, it is right that I should explain that it was the result of a mistake. I had occasion to go to a box of my own in a hurry that morning, and misled by the darkness and my own nervousness perhaps, took up his instead of my own. Not till I had opened it—with the tooth-pick, Hopgood, for I had been to a reception and did not have my keys with me—did I notice my mistake. I had intended to explain the matter to Mr. Stuyvesant, but you know what happened that day, and since then I have thought nothing of it.” The janitor’s face cleared to its natural expression. “You are very kind, sir, to explain yourself to me,” said he; “it was not necessary.” But his lightened face spoke volumes. “I have been on the police force and I know how to hold my tongue when it is my duty, but it is very hard work when the duty is on the other side. Have you any commands for me?” Mr. Sylvester shook his head, and his eye roamed over the humble furniture and scanty comforts of this poor man’s domicile. Hopgood thought he might be going to offer him some gift or guerdon, and in a low distressed tone spoke up: “I shall not try to ask your pardon, sir, for anything I have said. Honesty that is afraid to show itself, is no honesty for me. I could not meet your eye, knowing that I was aware of any circumstance of which you supposed me ignorant. What I know, you must know, as long as I remain in the position you were once kind enough to procure for me. And now that is all I believe, sir.” Mr. Sylvester dropped his eyes from the bare walls over which they had been restlessly wandering, and fixed them for a passing moment on the countenance of the man before him. Then with a grave action he lifted his hat from his head, and bowed with the deference he might have shown to one of his proudest colleagues, and without another look or word, quietly left the room.