“A word about business before you go.  I discharged Timmins about a week ago, and I have kept his place for you.”

“By gracious!” exclaimed Bobby, thrown completely out of his propriety by this announcement.

“I think you will do better, in the long run, than you would to travel about the country.  I was talking with Ellen about it, and she says it shall be so.  Timmins’s salary was five hundred dollars a year, and you shall have the same.”

“Five hundred dollars a year!” ejaculated Bobby, amazed at the vastness of the sum.

“Very well for a boy of thirteen, Bobby.”

“I was fourteen last Sunday, sir.”

“I would not give any other boy so much; but you are worth it, and you shall have it.”

Probably Mr. Bayard’s gratitude had something to do with this munificent offer; but he knew that our hero possessed abilities and energy far beyond his years.  He further informed Bobby that he should have a room at his house, and that Ellen was delighted with the arrangement he proposed.

The gloomy, threatening clouds were all rolled back, and floods of sunshine streamed in upon the soul of the little merchant; but in the midst of his rejoicing be remembered that his own integrity had carried him safely through the night of sorrow and doubt.  He had been true to himself, and now, in the hour of his great triumph, he realized that, if he had been faithless to the light within him, his laurel would have been a crown of thorns.

He was happy—­very happy.  What made him so?  Not his dawning prosperity; not the favor of Mr. Bayard; not the handsome salary he was to receive; for all these things would have been but dross, if he had sacrificed his integrity, his love of truth and uprightness.  He had been true to himself, and unseen angels had held him up.  He had been faithful, and the consciousness of his fidelity to principle made a heaven within his heart.

It was arranged that he should enter upon the duties of his new situation on the following week.  After settling with Mr. Bayard, he found he had nearly seventy dollars in his possession; so that in a pecuniary point of view, if in no other, his eastern excursion was perfectly satisfactory.

By the noon train he departed for Riverdale, and in two hours more he was folded to his mother’s heart.  Mrs. Bright wept for joy now, as she had before wept in misery when she heard of her son’s misfortune.  It took him all the afternoon to tell his exciting story to her, and she was almost beside herself when Bobby told her about his new situation.

After tea he hastened over to Squire Lee’s; and my young readers can imagine what a warm reception he had from father and daughter.  For the third time that day he narrated his adventures in the east; and Annie declared they were better than any novel she had ever read.  Perhaps it was because Bobby was the hero.  It was nearly ten o’clock before he finished his story; and when he left, the squire made him promise to come over the next day.