Once Meg looked back and waved her hand,--then the green trees closed in upon her disappearing vehicle, and Helmsley was again alone, save for "Charlie," who, instinctively aware that some friend had left them, licked his master's hand confidentially, as much as to say "I am still with you." The air was cooler now, and Helmsley walked on with comparative ease and pleasure.

His thoughts were very busy.

He was drawing comparisons between the conduct of the poor and the rich to one another, greatly to the disadvantage of the latter class.
"If a wealthy man has a carriage," he soliloquised, "how seldom will he offer it or think of offering its use to any one of his acquaintances who may be less fortunate! How rarely will he even say a kind word to any man who is 'down'! Do I not know this myself! I remember well on one occasion when I wished to send my carriage for the use of a poor fellow who had once been employed in my office, but who had been compelled to give up work, owing to illness, my secretary advised me not to show him this mark of sympathy and attention.

'He will only take it as his right,' I was assured,--'these sort of men are always ungrateful.' And I listened to my secretary's advice--more fool I! For it should have been nothing to me whether the man was ungrateful or not; the thing was to do the good, and let the result be what it might.

Now this poor Meg Ross has no carriage, but such vehicle as she possesses she shares with one whom she imagines to be in need.