The boy, with complacent alacrity, produced a small casket, and opening it with a key attached to a ribbon round his neck, exhibited indeed a shining store of silver pieces, slightly interspersed with gold.
"Eugene is indeed a rich boy," the mother observed very gravely.
"Yes, and a good, and wise, and prudent boy, and he shall be richer still some of these days; I will see to that. Yes, he can—he may afford to be generous; he knows how to bestow his gifts in the right direction. Eugene, show your mother what I have allowed you to buy out of your savings for your attached and valued friend."
The boy, in the same manner as before, uncovered a parcel lying on the table, and thereby displayed a roll of rich and handsome silk.
"Is it not beautiful, mamma?" he exclaimed innocently; "it is for Marryott; this is her birthday you know."
Mrs. Trevor's lip quivered. She looked pale, and turned away her head.
When were her birthdays so remembered?
"May I take it to her, papa?"
"Yes, yes, take it away, boy!" said Mr. Trevor, rather impatiently; and Eugene, proudly shouldering his offering, marched off triumphantly with it to Marryott's apartments.
A silent pause ensued. It was broken by Mrs. Trevor, quietly suggesting the advisability of a more regular and impartial allowance being bestowed upon the two younger boys, remarking that she feared the present arrangement was likely to be prejudicial to the characters of both, perhaps to their future conduct through life.