“We sent a note to your brother?” said Mr. Twining, in a tone of surprise.

“Yes, sir, and here it is,” said she, extending it to him.

Mr. Twining glanced over it, and remarked, “This is your writing, Western;” then taking Charlie’s letter from the desk of Mr. Western, he asked, in a doubting tone, “Is this your own writing and composition?”

“My own writing and composing,” answered Charlie.

“And it is vewy cweditable to you, indeed,” said Mr. Western.

Both the gentlemen looked at the note again, then at Charlie, then at Esther, and lastly at each other; but neither seemed able to say anything, and evident embarrassment existed on both sides.

“And so you thought you would twy for the situation,” at last remarked Mr. Western to Charlie.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.  “I was and am very anxious to obtain some employment.”  “Have you a father?” asked Mr. Twining.

“Yes, sir; but he was badly injured by the mob last summer, and will never be able to work again.”

“That’s a pity,” said Western, sympathisingly; “and what have you been doing?”

“Nothing very recently.  I broke my arm last spring, and was obliged to go into the country for my health.  I have not long returned.”

“Do your pawents keep house?”

“Not at present.  We are staying with a friend.  Our house was burned down by the rioters.”

This conversation recalled so vividly their past trials, that Esther’s eyes grew watery, and she dropped her veil to conceal a tear that was trembling on the lid.

“How vewy unfortunate!” said Mr. Western, sympathisingly; “vewy twying, indeed!” then burying his chin in his hand, he sat silently regarding them for a moment or two.

“Have you come to any decision about taking him?” Esther at last ventured to ask of Mr. Twining.

“Taking him!—­oh, dear me, I had almost forgot.  Charles, let me see you write something—­here, take this seat.”

Charlie sat down as directed, and dashed off a few lines, which he handed to Mr. Twining, who looked at it over and over; then rising, he beckoned to his partner to follow him into an adjoining room.

“Well, what do you say?” asked Western, after they had closed the door behind them.  “Don’t you think we had better engage him?”

“Engage him!” exclaimed Twining—­“why, you surprise me, Western—­the thing’s absurd; engage a coloured boy as under clerk!  I never heard of such a thing.”

“I have often,” drawled Western; “there are the gweatest number of them in New Orleans.”

“Ah, but New Orleans is a different place; such a thing never occurred in Philadelphia.”

“Well, let us cweate a pwecedent, then.  The boy wites wemarkably well, and will, no doubt, suit us exactly.  It will be a chawity to take him.  We need not care what others say—­evewybody knows who we are and what we are?”