"I want just one dollar from you, and as much more from some eight or nine as benevolent as yourself." At the words "poor widow," the countenance of Malcolm fell, and when his visiter ceased, he replied in a changed and husky voice, clearing his throat two or three times as he spoke, "Are you sure she is deserving, Mr.Lyon ?" The man's manner had become exceedingly grave.
"None more so," was the prompt answer.

"She is in poor health, and has three children to support with the product of her needle.

If any one needs assistance it is Mrs.Arnold." "Oh! ah! The widow of Jacob Arnold." "The same," replied Andrew Lyon.
Malcolm's face did not brighten with a feeling of heart-warm benevolence.

But, he turned slowly away, and opening his money-drawer, _very slowly_, toyed with his fingers amid its contents.

At length he took therefrom a dollar bill, and said, as he presented it to Lyon,--sighing involuntarily as he did so-- "I suppose I must do my part.