to hand in yer pockets, nor yet my set of tools in pawn, nor yet a pint o' beer and a good hunk of bread and meat for a starvin' feller! May be ye could tell me the way to the nearest pub, and stand me a drink there!"

Roy thrust his hand immediately into his pocket, and pulled out amongst a confused mass of boys' treasures a sixpence.

"I'll give you this if it will do you good," he said, holding it up proudly. "I've kept it a whole two days without spending it. It will give you some beer and bread and cheese, I expect. Is there anything else we can do for you?"

"If you go to Mr. Selby, the rector, he'll put you in the way of work," shouted out Dudley, as the man catching the sixpence flung down to him slouched off with muttered thanks.

"No parsons for me," was the rejoinder.

The boys watched his figure disappear down the road, and then Roy said reflectively,—

"Too many opportunities like that would empty our pockets."

"And I wonder if it will really do him good," said Dudley; then glancing over into the garden, he added: "Here comes Aunt Judy, she's calling us."

Down the winding gravel path came their aunt; a strikingly handsome woman. She looked up at her little nephews and laughed when she came to the wall.

"Oh, you imps, do you know I've been hunting for you everywhere! You will have a fall like Humpty Dumpty if you choose such high perches. Now what comfort can you find, may I ask, in such a blazing breakneck seat? Do you find broken bottles a soft cushion?"

"We've cleared those rotten things away here," said Dudley, preparing to clamber down; "it's our watch tower, and we've a first-rate view, you just come up and see!"

"Thank you, I would rather not attempt the climb. What have you been talking about? Jonathan looks as grave as a judge."

Roy looked down at his aunt without moving.

"If you won't laugh or tell granny, we'll tell you, because you never split if you say you won't."

"All right, I promise."

"Well, you see, this morning Mr. Selby gave us this for our copy: 'As ye have opportunity do good unto all men,' and he told us of a King somebody—I forget who—who used to write down at the end of each day on a slate,—if he hadn't done any good to any one,—'I've lost a day.' We thought it would be a good plan to start this afternoon and see what we could do. We tried on old Hal first, but he didn't seem to like it. He was uncovering some of the frames, and so we went and uncovered all of them, and then he said we had spoilt some of his seedlings, and nearly went into a fit with rage. I turned the hose on him to cool him down. He is asleep in the wheelbarrow now; we can see him from here. We really came up here to get out of his way, his language was awful!"

"Come down, you monkey. I can't carry on a conversation with you so far above me. Softly now. Bless the boys, how they can stick their toes into such a wall is past my comprehension! Granny wants to see you before your tea, so come along. And who else has been benefited by your good deeds?"

They were walking toward the house by this time, each boy hanging on to one of her arms. It was easy to see the affection between them.

Dudley eagerly poured out the story of the tramp, and Miss Bertram listened sympathetically.

"Never send a man to a public house, boys—and never give him money for beer. Perhaps he may have come down in the world through love of it. You know I am always ready to give any one a relief ticket. That's the best way to help such cases."

"Yes, but that would be your doing not ours."

"Money is a difficult way of helping," said Miss Bertram; "don't get into the habit of thinking money is the only thing that will do people good. It too often does them harm."

"Oh, I say! that's hard lines on me, when my last sixpence has gone, and I was going to get a stunning ball old Principle has in his shop!"

Miss Bertram laughed at Roy's woe-begone little face.

"Never mind," she said, consolingly; "your intentions were good, and you must buy your experience by mistakes as you go through life. Now go into granny softly, both of you, and talk nicely to her. She will be one person you can do good to, by brightening her up a little."

Dudley made a grimace at Roy; but both boys entered the house, and crept into a cool half-darkened drawing-room on tiptoe, with hushed voices and sober demeanor. A stern looking old lady sat upright in her easy chair, knitting busily. She greeted the boys rather coldly.

"What have you been doing with yourselves? I sent for you some time ago. Do you not remember that I like you to come to me every afternoon about this hour?"

"Yes, granny," said Roy, climbing into an easy chair opposite her; "we were coming only we didn't know it was so late: we were busy talking."

"Boys' chatter ought not to come before a grandmother's wishes."

There was silence; then Dudley struck in boldly:

"We were talking about good things, granny. It wasn't chatter. Roy and I are going to look out for opportunities every day of our lives. Do you think an opportunity is the same as an adventure? I don't think you have adventures of doing good, do you?"

"Yes," asserted Roy, bobbing up and down in his chair excitedly; "King Arthur and his knights did always. They never rode through a wood without having an adventure, and it was always doing good, wasn't it, granny?"

Conversation never slackened when the boys were present, and Mrs. Bertram, though shrinking at all times from their high spirits and love of fun, yet looked forward every day to their short visit. She was a confirmed invalid, and rarely left the house, and her daughter Julia in consequence took her place as mistress over the household.

Three years before, Roy and Dudley arrived within a month of each other, to find a home with their grandmother. Roy, whose proper name was Fitzroy, came from Canada, both his parents having died out there. Dudley's father had died when he was a baby, but his mother had married again in India; and upon her death which occurred not long after, his stepfather had sent him home to his grandmother. From the first day that they met, the boys were sworn friends; and their aunt dubbed them "David" and "Jonathan" after having been an unseen witness of a very solemn vow transacted between them under the shadow of the pines, only a week after their meeting.

Roy's delicate health was a cause of great anxiety to his grandmother, and if it had not been for Miss Bertram's wise tact and judgment, he would have been imprisoned in one room and swathed in cotton wool most of the year round. He had the advantage of having an old nurse who had brought him up from his birth, and had come from Canada with him; and she was as vigilant and experienced in managing his ailments as could be desired. Poor little Roy, with his uncertain health, was heir to a very large property of his father's not far away; and the responsibilities awaiting him, and the knowledge that he would have so much power in his hands, perhaps had the effect of making him weigh life more seriously than would most boys of his age.

Later on after their visit to their grandmother was over, and tea had been finished in the nursery, he wandered into his own little room, and leaning out of his window, looked up into the clear sky above.

"I feel so small," was his wistful thought, "and heaven is so big; but I'll do something big enough to get, 'Well done good and faithful servant,' said to me when I die, I hope. And I'll try every day till I do it!"

II

A SONG

"Come here, boys. I have had some new music from town, and here is a song that you will like to listen to, I expect."

It was Miss Bertram who spoke, and her appearance in the nursery just saved a free fight. Wet afternoons were always a sore trial to the boys: their mornings were generally spent at the Rectory under Mr. Selby's tuition, but their