"Well, he's a right jolly fellow!" cried Bernard, enthusiastically,
His mother smiled. The adjective was ludicrously inappropriate, but she understood Bernard's meaning, and appreciated his feelings as he went on:
"Yes, I'll never let anybody say a word against him in my hearing after this, and I'll declare I have proof positive that he's no miser."
"He is a noble-hearted man certainly," said Mrs. Farrell. "I wish we knew more about him. But, for one thing, Bernard, this experience has taught us to beware of rash judgments; to look for the jewels, not the flaws, in the character of our neighbor."
"Yes, indeed, mother," replied the youth, decidedly. "You may be sure that in future I'll try to see what is best in everyone."
The next morning Mrs. Farrell went about her work in a more hopeful mood. Bernard started for the office in better spirits than usual, humming snatches of a song, a few words of which kept running in his mind all day:
"God rules, and thou shall have more sun
When clouds their perfect work have done."
That afternoon Mr. Crosswell, the head of the firm, who seemed suddenly to have become aware that something was wrong, said to him:
"My lad, how is it that your mother has not been doing the extra type-writing lately? I find a great deal of it has been given to some one else."
"She has been sick with rheumatism, sir," answered the boy; "and her fingers are so stiff that she cannot work the machine."