Go back to the fire." His voice was gentle; his ruddy countenance pale; two strange things in Abel Fletcher.
"Father, tell me what has befallen thee ?" "Nothing, my son, save that the Giver of all worldly goods has seen fit to take back a portion of mine.

I, like many another in this town, am poorer by some thousands than I went to bed last night." He sat down.

I knew he loved his money, for it had been hardly earned.
I had not thought he would have borne its loss so quietly.
"Father, never mind; it might have been worse." "Of a surety.

I should have lost everything I had in the world--save for--Where is the lad?
What art thee standing outside for?
Come in, John, and shut the door." John obeyed, though without advancing.

He was cold and wet.