Young Farnham drew toward his mother, flushed and eager.
"If the girls are in bed, let me go down and search for something, the poor child looks so forlorn."
As he pleaded with his mother the hall light lay full upon him, and never did benevolence look more beautiful on a young face. It must have been a cold-hearted person, indeed, who could have resisted those fine, earnest eyes, and that manner so full of generous grace.
"Come, mother, music should open one's heart—may I go?"
"Nonsense, Fred, what would you be at? The man is in a hurry to go. Why can't you be reasonable for once," replied the weak woman, glancing at her husband, who was walking angrily up and down the drawing-room; and sinking her voice she added:
"See, your father is out of sorts; do come in!"
"In a moment—in a moment," answered, the youth, moving up the hall and searching eagerly in his pockets—"stop, my dear fellow, don't be in such a confounded hurry—oh, here it is."
The lad drew forth a portmonnaie, and emptied the only bit of gold it contained into his hand.
"Here, here," he said, blushing to the temples and forcing it upon Chester; "I haven't a doubt that everything is eaten up in the house, but this will go a little way. You are a fine fellow, I can see that; don't let the poor thing suffer—if help is wanted, I'm always on hand for a trifle like that; but good night, good night, the governor is getting fractious, and my lady mother will take cold—good night."
Chester grasped the hand so frankly extended, and moved down the steps, cheered by the noble sympathy so unexpected in that place.