Gilbert found it very irksome to be without employment; besides, he was anxious to be vindicated as soon as possible from the malicious charge which had been made against him. He felt himself fortunate, however, in one respect; he was subjected to no privations, having his board and lodging paid by his guardian. Had Mr. Briggs suspected him, he was proud enough to have left his boarding-place, and relied upon his own exertions.

From the force of habit, and partly to fill up his time, Gilbert continued to go down-town daily. One day he met Mr. Vivian on Broadway, below the Astor House.

“Good-morning, Gilbert,” said the merchant, pleasantly. “Are you out on business?”

215“No, sir,” answered Gilbert. “I am out of business just at present.”

“I thought you were in the office of a stock-broker.”

“So I was; but I have lost my place.”

“Through no fault of your own, I am sure.”

“No, sir. I should not have lost my place if Mr. Sands had been in the city. During his absence the book-keeper, who has a dislike to me because I superseded his cousin, discharged me.”

“Come up this evening to my house, Gilbert. Then I shall be at leisure, and you can tell me all the details of the affair.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I am sure he won’t credit the charge against me,” thought Gilbert, and this thought encouraged him not a little.

Gilbert continued his walk. As he was passing Trinity church-yard, he was accosted by a little girl, of perhaps eight years old. “Won’t you buy some flowers, sir?—only five cents.”

Gilbert shook his head mechanically. Then he 216glanced at the little girl, and his sympathy was aroused. She was poorly dressed, with a fragile figure, and thin, pale face, which yet only lacked the roundness and rosy hue of health to be uncommonly pretty. She did not repeat her request, but she looked sad and depressed. Gilbert paused and spoke to her.

“Have you sold many flowers to-day, little girl?” he asked.

“No, sir; only three bunches,” she replied.

“Where do you get them?”

“I sell them for a woman.”

“How much does she give you for selling them?”

“Two cents a bunch.”

“Then you have only made six cents to-day. How long have you been standing here?”

“Ever since eight o’clock,” said the little girl, wearily.

“Don’t you get tired being on your feet so long?”

“I wouldn’t care for that if the people would only buy my flowers.”

“You are young to be sent out in this way. Haven’t you got a father to take care of you?”

217“Papa used to take care of me when he was well, and did not let me come out; but now he is sick, and we have no money, and I have to leave him,” said the little girl, sadly.

“Poor child!” said Gilbert, compassionately. “You are unfortunate. Where does your father live?”

“On Pearl Street, in a tenement house,” said the little flower-girl; “but I am afraid we will be turned out because we cannot pay the rent.”

“What is your name?”

“Emma Talbot.”

“Then, Emma, if you like, I will go around and see your father with you. Perhaps I can help him, or get some of my friends to help him. Can you come now?”

“When I have sold this bunch of flowers, sir.”

“As it is the last you have got, I will take it; so we needn’t wait.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,&rdquo............