The cash boy and his mother lived in a westside tenement house.

Just in front of the house, Scott met Willie Mead with a loaf of bread which he was bringing home from a neighboring bakery. His eye lighted up with pleasure when he saw Scott.

"Do you live here, Willie?" asked Scott.

"Yes, we live on the fourth floor."

"I have brought a gentleman with me who may be able to help your mother. We will follow you upstairs."

"You may not like to climb so high, sir," said the cash boy, turning to Mr. Lawton.

"I think I can stand it for once," rejoined Seth Lawton. "I am a little more scant of breath than when I was a young man, but I am still good for a climb."

Willie started ahead and the two visitors followed him.

"We will stop here on the landing till you have told your mother she is to have visitors," said Seth, considerately.

The boy opened a door and entered a rear room. He reappeared in a short time, and said: "Come in, please."

The room was neat, but the scanty and well-worn furniture showed evidences of dire poverty.

Mrs. Mead, a woman of forty, though poorly dressed, had a look of refinement, though her face was sad and anxious.

As she watched the entrance of the visitors her eyes seemed riveted upon Seth Lawton. She took a step forward.

"Surely," she said, "I cannot be deceived. This is Seth Lawton."

"You know me?" said Seth, in amazement.

"Yes, and you ought to know me. We were born in the same village."

"Mary Grant!" ejaculated Seth, after a brief scrutiny.

"That was my name. Now I am Mary Mead. I married, but my husband is dead. But sit down. It does me good to see an old friend."

"It seems incredible," said Seth, as he took the proffered seat. "We met last in England, and now again under strange and unexpected circumstances." Seth Lawton seemed moved, but his tone was one of satisfaction.

"Yes, Seth, much has happened since we parted."

"How long have you lived in America?"

"Ten years."

"And when did your husband die?"

"Three years since. He left me nothing but the children, and it has been a sad and sorrowful time. We have lived, but there have been times when we have been on the verge of starvation. And you, how has it been with you?"

"I have no right to complain. I have lived comfortably. You know Ezra Little?"

"Yes, it was at my request that he took Willie into his store. But the two dollars and a half a week, which he pays him, seems very small."

"I should think so. Didn't he know how poor you were?" asked Seth, indignantly.

"Yes, but he said he could not favor one cash boy more than the rest."

"Then he might have made you a present."

"I don't think it ever occurred to him, Seth. But how did you find me? Did he give you my address?"

"No, that was not likely. Scott Walton—you must have known his mother, my cousin Lucy—works in the same store. It was he who heard of your trouble and reported it to me. Now tell me how you are situated."

"We are likely to be turned out of these poor rooms, because we cannot pay the rent. My eldest boy, Sam, has been sick, and as he earned six dollars a week, it took most of our income from us. Next week I think he will be able to go to work again."

"This is a poor place for you, Mary."

"We are glad of even this shelter. We are too poor to be particular."

"Your income consists only of what the two boys earn?"

"I earn something by sewing, but I have no sewing machine, and the prices paid are very low. Still, every little helps."

"If you had a whole house and kept lodgers, you could make a better income."

"No doubt, and I think I could do it if I had the means. But with no capital, that is out of the question," she finished, with a sigh.

"I have a proposal to make to you. I have a room in a house on West Sixteenth Street. It is a moderate sized house, and is to let furnished. My present landlady is desirous of giving up the house, as she wishes to be with her mother in the country, but she is tied by a lease. Suppose you take it off her hands?"

"I should like nothing better, but you can judge whether an offer from one so poor as myself would be accepted."

"Don't trouble yourself about that," said Seth Lawton, quietly. "I will arrange it all, and will retain my room. I may say that the rooms are all taken, so that you would be sure of an income at once."

"I should like the arrangement very much, and I should like especially to have you with me, Seth; but it seems like a dream."

"We will make it a reality. I will see Mrs. Field this evening, and call on you again to-morrow. When does your month here expire?"

"In three days."

"The time is short, but it is sufficient. You will hear from me very soon. Meanwhile accept this small favor." He drew from his pocket a ten-dollar note, and handed it to the widow.

"You are too kind, Seth," she said, gratefully. "You look poor yourself, and——"

"I never was in the habit of dressing very handsomely," said Mr. Lawton, smiling, "and just at present I look shabbier than usual. Perhaps I have an object in it. At any rate, it is a fact. The help I offer you will not embarrass me in the least."

"What a difference between you and Ezra Little," said Mrs. Mead. "He has never offered me a dollar, though he knew me as well as you."

"He acts according to his nature, Mary. Scott is an orphan—his father died on the ship that brought them over from England—but Ezra treats him as meanly as he has treated you and your boy. He makes him work for his board, and has refused him a suit of clothes, though he stood in need of it."

Mr. Lawton remained for half an hour. Then he rose, and went downstairs, followed by Scott.

"It is strange you should have met an old acquaintance, Cousin Seth," said Scott.

"More than an acquaintance, Scott. It may seem strange to you that an old fellow like me should ever have been in love, but the time was when I was in love with Mary Grant, and asked her to be my wife."

"And she refused you?"

"Yes, Scott; I was fifteen years her senior, and she liked the man, whom she soon after married, better. It was this disappointment chiefly that led to my leaving England. I am very glad to have met Mary again. Though years have passed I have not lost my attachment for her. I am glad indeed that I can do the poor woman a service."

His voice softened as he spoke, and it was clear that his early romance was not dead.

"Mr. Mead was a handsome man," continued Seth. "You can judge of that, for the boy Willie looks like him. He made a good husband, I presume, but he had not the knack of succeeding in life."

"Like Mr. Little."

"Yes, like Ezra Little."

It occurred to Scott that the same thing might be said of Seth Lawton himself, but he would not, of course, speak of it. He was beginning to have a sincere respect and regard for Cousin Seth.

What matter if he were poor—at least compared with Ezra Little—he evidently had a kind heart, and was inclined to be generous beyond his means.

"All cannot become rich," said Scott. "I wish you had Mr. Little's money, though."

"Don't wish that, Scott, for without that Ezra would be poor indeed. It is all that he has to boast of."

"I am afraid it will be the same with Loammi."

"With this difference: Ezra, with all his faults, is enterprising and industrious, and I don't think his son will be either. In the race of life you may eclipse him, after all."

"It doesn't seem much like it now."

"No, but you are young yet, and time often works wonders."

"Won't it cost a good deal to set up Mrs. Mead in her new business?" asked Scott, thoughtfully.

"Not very much. She will enter into a house fully furnished and equipped, and with a sure and prompt income from a good set of lodgers."

"I hope she will succeed."

"I think she will. If Ezra would pay you wages, in place of giving you a home in his house, you might take a room there, too."

"I wish I could."

"Well, it may come about some time. But look, there is Loammi."

Yes, it was Loammi, sporting a light cane, and evidently on very good terms with himself.

"Good-evening, Loammi," said Cousin Seth.

"Good-evening, Mr. Lawton," responded Loammi, patronizingly. "Are you and Scott taking a walk?"

"Yes; and you?"

"Oh, I have been to call on a schoolmate. His father's awful rich."

"We, too, have been to make a call—on the mother of one of your father's cash boys."

Loammi turned up his nose.

"You keep fashionable company," he said.

"We are not fashionable, like you, Loammi," said Scott, smiling.

"No, of course not," answered Loammi, in a matter-of-course tone. "Well, ta, ta!"

"I wonder how that boy will turn out!" said Cousin Seth, thoughtfully.