On the next morning, Mr. Levering felt something better.  Sleep had left his mind more tranquil.  Still there was a pressure on his feelings, which thought could trace to that unlucky dollar.  About an hour after going to his store, Mr. Levering saw his customer of the day previous enter, and move along towards the place where he stood behind his counter.  His heart gave a sudden bound, and the color rose to his face.  An accusing conscience was quick to conclude as to the object of her visit.  But he soon saw that no suspicion of wrong dealing was in the lady’s mind.  With a pleasant half recognition, she asked to look at certain articles, from which she made purchases, and in paying for them, placed a ten dollar bill in the hand of the storekeeper.

“That weight shall be off my conscience,” said Mr. Levering to himself, as he began counting out the change due his customer; and, purposely, he gave her one dollar more than was justly hers in that transaction.  The lady glanced her eyes over the money, and seemed slightly bewildered.  Then, much to the storekeeper’s relief, opened her purse and dropped it therein.

“All right again!” was the mental ejaculation of Mr. Levering, as he saw the purse disappear in the lady’s pocket, while his breast expanded with a sense of relief.

The customer turned from the counter, and had nearly gained the door, when she paused, drew out her purse, and emptying the contents of one end into her hand, carefully noted the amount.  Then walking back, she said, with a thoughtful air—­

“I think you ’ve made a mistake in the change, Mr. Levering.”

“I presume not, ma’am.  I gave you four and thirty-five,” was the quick reply.

“Four, thirty-five,” said the lady, musingly.

“Yes, here is just four, thirty-five.”

“That’s right; yes, that’s right,” Mr. Levering spoke, somewhat nervously.

“The article came to six dollars and sixty-five cents, I believe?”

“Yes, yes; that was it!”

“Then three dollars and thirty-five cents will be my right change,” said the lady, placing a small gold coin on the counter.  “You gave me too much.”

The customer turned away and retired from the store, leaving that dollar still on the conscience of Mr. Levering.

“I’ll throw it into the street,” said he to himself, impatiently.  “Or give it to the first beggar that comes along.”

But conscience whispered that the dollar wasn’t his, either to give away or to throw away.  Such prodigality, or impulsive benevolence, would be at the expense of another, and this could not mend the matter.

“This is all squeamishness,” said Mr. Levering trying to argue against his convictions.  But it was of no avail.  His convictions remained as clear and rebuking as ever.