If Squire Davenport had not threatened to foreclose the mortgage, he would have felt justified in buying a present for his mother.

As it was, he feared they would have need of all the money that came in to meet contingencies.
The train reached Pentonville at five o'clock, and about the usual time Ben opened the gate and walked up to the front door of his modest home.

He looked so bright and cheerful when he entered her presence that Mrs.Barclay thought be must have found and been kindly received by the cousin whom he had gone up to seek.
"Did you see Mr.Peters ?" she asked anxiously.
"No, mother; he is in Europe." A shadow came over the mother's face.

It was like taking from her her last hope.
"I was afraid you would not be repaid for going up to the city," she said.
"I made a pretty good day's work of it, nevertheless, mother.

What do you say to this ?" and he opened his wallet and showed her a roll of bills.
"Is that Mr.Crawford's money ?" she asked.
"No, mother, it is mine, or rather it is yours, for I give it to you." "Did you find a pocketbook, Ben?
If so, the owner may turn up." "Mother, the money is mine, fairly mine, for it was given me in return for a service I rendered a lady in New York." "What service could you have possibly rendered, Ben, that merited such liberal payment ?" asked his mother in surprise.
Upon this Ben explained, and Mrs.Barclay listened to his story with wonder.
"So you see, mother, I did well to go to the city," said Ben, in conclusion.
"It has turned out so, and I am thankful for your good fortune.