After leaving the shop of Mr. Mason, Jarvis seemed altogether
irresolute. He would walk on a few steps, and then pause to commune
with his troubled and bewildered thoughts.

"I will try Lankford," said he, at length, half-aloud; "he will give
me work, surely."

A brisk walk of some ten minutes brought him to the door of a small
hatter's-shop in a retired street. Behind the counter of this shop
stood an old man, busily employed in ironing a hat. There was
something benevolent in his countenance and manner. As Jarvis
entered, he looked up, and a shade passed quickly over his face.

"Good morning, Mr. Lankford," said Jarvis, bowing, with something
like timidity and shame in his manner.

"Are you not afraid to come here, John?" replied the old man,
sternly.

"I am ashamed to come, but not afraid. You will not harm me, I
know."

"Don't trust to that, John. Did you not steal, ay, that is the
word--did you not steal from me the last time I employed you?" The
old man was stern and energetic in his manner.

"I was so wicked as to take a couple of skins, Mr. Lankford, but I
did very wrong, and am willing to repay you for them, if you will
give me work. I was in liquor when I did it, and, when in liquor, I