"Didn't Garland pay?" "N-n-o, sir!" The suddenness of this question so confounded Martin, that he could not answer without a betraying hesitation. "Martin!" Astonishment, rebuke, and accusation were in the voice of Mr. Phillips as he pronounced his clerk's name. Martin's face flushed deeply, and then grew very pale. He stood the image of guilt and fear for some moments, then, drawing out his pocket book, he brought therefrom a small roll of bank bills, and a memorandum slip of paper. "I made these collections also." And he gave the money and memorandum to Mr. Phillips. "A hundred and fifty dollars withheld! Martin! Martin! what _does_ this mean?" "Heaven is my witness, sir," answered the young man, with quivering lips, "that I have never wronged you out of a dollar, and had no intention of wronging you now. But I am in a fearful strait. My feet have become suddenly mired, and this was a desperate struggle for extrication--a temporary expedient only, not a premeditated wrong against you." "Sit down, Martin," said Mr. Phillips, in a grave, but not severe, tone of voice. "Let me understand the case from first to last. Conceal nothing, if you wish to have me for a friend." Thus enjoined, Martin told his humiliating story. "If you had not gone into the way of temptation, the betrayer had not found you," was the remark of Mr. Phillips, when the young man ended his confession. "Do you frequent these eating and drinking saloons?" "I go occasionally, sir." "They are neither safe nor reputable, Martin. A young man who frequents them must have the fine tone of his manhood dimmed. There is an atmosphere of impurity about these places. Have you a younger brother?" "Yes, sir." "Would you think it good for him, as he emerged from youth to manhood, to visit refectories and billiard saloons?" "No, sir, I would do all in my power to prevent it." "Why?"