“Man’s extremity is the devil’s opportunity.”  It was so in the present case, Green had a number of collections to make on that day, and his evil counsellors suggested his holding back the return of two of these, amounting to his indebtedness, and say that the parties were not yet ready to settle their bills.  This would enable him to get rid of Bland, and gain time.  So, acting upon the bad suggestion, he made up his return of collections, omitting the two accounts to which we have referred.

Now it so happened that one of the persons against whom these accounts stood, met Mr. Phillips as he was returning from dinner in the afternoon, and said to him,—­

“I settled that bill of yours to-day.”

“That’s right.  I wish all my customers were as punctual,” answered Mr. Phillips.

“I gave your young man a check for a hundred and five dollars.”

“Thank you.”

And the two men passed their respective ways.

On Mr. Phillips’s return to his store, Martin rendered his account of collections, and, to the surprise of his employer, omitted the one in regard to which he had just been notified.

“Is this all?” he asked, in a tone that sent a thrill of alarm to the guilty heart of his clerk.

“Yes, sir,” was the not clearly outspoken answer.

“Didn’t Garland pay?”

“N-n-o, sir!” The suddenness of this question so confounded Martin, that he could not answer without a betraying hesitation.

“Martin!” Astonishment, rebuke, and accusation were in the voice of Mr. Phillips as he pronounced his clerk’s name.  Martin’s face flushed deeply, and then grew very pale.  He stood the image of guilt and fear for some moments, then, drawing out his pocket book, he brought therefrom a small roll of bank bills, and a memorandum slip of paper.

“I made these collections also.”  And he gave the money and memorandum to Mr. Phillips.

“A hundred and fifty dollars withheld!  Martin!  Martin! what does this mean?”

“Heaven is my witness, sir,” answered the young man, with quivering lips, “that I have never wronged you out of a dollar, and had no intention of wronging you now.  But I am in a fearful strait.  My feet have become suddenly mired, and this was a desperate struggle for extrication—­a temporary expedient only, not a premeditated wrong against you.”

“Sit down, Martin,” said Mr. Phillips, in a grave, but not severe, tone of voice.  “Let me understand the case from first to last.  Conceal nothing, if you wish to have me for a friend.”

Thus enjoined, Martin told his humiliating story.

“If you had not gone into the way of temptation, the betrayer had not found you,” was the remark of Mr. Phillips, when the young man ended his confession.  “Do you frequent these eating and drinking saloons?”

“I go occasionally, sir.”

“They are neither safe nor reputable, Martin.  A young man who frequents them must have the fine tone of his manhood dimmed.  There is an atmosphere of impurity about these places.  Have you a younger brother?”