Of all this, the boy with the dark eyes had taken quick cognizance.  And he comprehended all.  Scarcely a moment had his glance been removed from the countenance or form of Mr. Everett, while the latter walked with uneasy steps the floor of his office.

As the afternoon waned, the broker’s mind grew calmer.  The first excitement produced by the loss, passed away; but it left a sense of depression and disappointment that completely shadowed his feelings.

Intent as had been the lad’s observation of his employer during all this time, it is a little remarkable that Mr. Everett had not once been conscious of the fact that the boy’s eyes were steadily upon him.  In fact he had been, as was usually the case too much absorbed in things concerning himself to notice what was peculiar to another, unless the peculiarity were one readily used to his own advantage.

“John,” said Mr. Everett, turning suddenly to the boy, and encountering his large, earnest eyes, “take this note around to Mr. Legrand.”

John sprang to do his bidding; received the note and was off with unusual fleetness.  But the door which closed upon his form did not shut out the expression of his sober face and humid glance from the vision of Mr. Everett.  In fact, from some cause, tears had sprung to the eyes of the musing boy at the very moment he was called upon to render a service; and, quicker than usual though his motions were, he had failed to conceal them.

A new train of thought now entered the broker’s mind.  This child of his old friend had been taken into his office from a kind of charitable feeling—­though of very low vitality.  He paid him a couple of dollars a week, and thought little more, about him or his widowed mother.  He had too many important interests of his own at stake, to have his mind turned aside for a trifling matter like this.  But now, as the image of that sad face—­for it was unusually sad at the moment when Mr. Everett looked suddenly toward the boy—­lingered in his mind, growing every moment more distinct, and more touchingly beautiful, many considerations of duty and humanity were excited.  He remembered his old friend, and the pleasant hours they had spent together in years long since passed, ere generous feelings had hardened into ice, or given place to all-pervading selfishness.  He remembered, too, the beautiful girl his friend had married, and how proudly that friend presented her to their little world as his bride.  The lad had her large, dark, spiritual eyes—­only the light of joy had faded therefrom, giving place to a strange sadness.

All this was now present to the mind of Mr. Everett, and though he tried once or twice during the boy’s absence to obliterate these recollections, he was unable to do so.

“How is your mother, John?” kindly asked the broker, when the lad returned from his errand.

The question was so unexpected, that it confused him.

“She’s well—­thank you, sir.  No—­not very well, either—­thank you, sir.”