"So you have really worked a week, a sober man, John?" Mr. Lankford
said.

"Indeed, I have. Since last Sunday morning, no kind of intoxicating
liquor has passed my lips."

"How much have you earned this week, John?"

"Here is the foreman's account of my work, sir. It comes to twelve
dollars."

"Still a fast workman. You will yet recover yourself, and your
family will again be happy, if you persevere."

"O, sir, they shall be happy! I _will_ persevere!"

Another pause ensued, and then Jarvis said, while the color mounted
to his cheek--

"If you are willing, Mr. Lankford, I should like you to deduct only
one-half of what I owe you for those furs I took from you, from this
week's wages. My family are in want of a good many things; and I am
particularly desirous of buying a barrel of flour to-night."

"Say nothing of that, John. Let it be forgotten with your past
misdeeds. Here are your wages--twelve dollars--and if it gives you
as much pleasure to receive, as it does me to pay them, then you
feel no ordinary degree of satisfaction."