“I am sorry,” Mr. Easy said, “but the place was filled this morning.  I was a little too late.”

The boy was unable to control his feelings.  The disappointment was too great.  Tears gushed from his eyes, as he turned away, and left the counting-room without speaking.

“I’m afraid I’ve done wrong,” said Mr. Easy to himself, as he stood, in a musing attitude, by his desk, about five minutes after Hiram had left.  “If I had seen about the situation when he first called upon me, I might have secured it for him.  But it’s too late now.”

After saying this, the merchant placed his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, and commenced walking the floor of his counting-room backward and forward.  He could not get out of his mind, the image of the boy as he turned from him in tears, nor drive away thoughts of the friend’s widow, whom he had neglected.  This state of mind continued all the afternoon.  Its natural effect was to cause him to cast about in his mind for some way of getting employment for Hiram, that would yield immediate returns.  But nothing presented itself.

“I wonder if I couldn’t make room for him here?” he at length said—­“He looks like a bright boy.  I know Mr.—­is highly pleased with him.  He spoke of getting four dollars a week.  That’s a good deal to give to a mere lad.  But I suppose I might make him worth that to me.  And now I begin to think seriously about the matter, I believe I cannot keep a clear conscience, and any longer remain indifferent to the welfare of my old friend’s widow and children.  I must look after them a little more closely than I have heretofore done.”

This resolution reliever the mind of Mr. Easy a good deal.

When Hiram left the counting-room of the merchant, his spirits were crushed to the very earth.  He found his way back, how he hardly knew, to his place of business, and mechanically performed the tasks allotted to him, until evening.  Then he returned home, reluctant to meet his mother, and yet anxious to relieve her state of suspense, even if in doing so, he should dash a last hope from her heart.  When he came in, Mrs. Mayberry lifted her eyes to his, inquiringly; but dropped them instantly—­she needed no words to tell her that he had suffered a bitter disappointment.

“You did not get the place?” she at length said, with forced composure.

“No—­it was taken this morning.  Mr. Easy promised to see about it.  But he didn’t do so.  When he went this afternoon, it was too late.”

Hiram said this with a trembling voice, and lips that quivered.

“Thy will be done!” murmured the widow, lifting her eyes upward.  “If these tender ones are to be taken from their mother’s fold, oh, do thou temper for them the piercing blast, and be their shelter amid the raging tempests.”

A tap at the door brought back the thoughts of Mrs. Mayberry.  A brief struggle with her feelings, enabled her to overcome them in time to receive a visitor with composure.  It was the merchant.