"When did this occur?" he inquired.
"His messenger has been gone only a moment."
Mr. Everton stood for a few seconds irresolute, while his eyes took in the images of distress and destitution apparent on every hand. His feelings no one need envy. If his thoughts had been uttered at the time, his words would have been, "This is the work of my hands!" He still held out the money, but Ayres did not touch it.
"What does he offer you?" he at length asked.
"Twelve dollars a week," was replied.
"I will make it fifteen."
"I thank you," said Ayres, in answer to this, "but my word is passed, and I cannot recall it."
"Then take this as a loan, and repay me when you can."
Saying this, Everton tossed a small roll of bank bills upon the floor, at the feet of the young man, adding as he did so—"And if you are ever in want of a situation, come to me."
He then hurriedly retired, with what feelings the reader may imagine.