"Come in, Pat; mother'll be glad to see ye," said Nannie, as he put the pail softly within the door, and was about retreating.

"Faith and that I will," said the woman warmly, opening the door wide, and setting a chair for the boy, who seemed nothing loth to enter.

It was pleasant to find a clean spot to sit down in after his day's labor, and the happy faces in that room had haunted him as a dream, too good to be real, since he had first seen Nannie and Winnie. His home was a disagreeable, shabby place, and his mother did not care to make it otherwise, and Pat felt it a great privilege to go occasionally to see his new friends. "It wasn't for nothing," thought he, "that I did the good deed by the girl; it's many a pleasant hour I've had here since that blessed night!" and he drew his chair up to the table where Nannie had the big Bible open reading aloud to her mother.

"I'll keep right on here where I was reading, Pat," said she, "because it's so beautiful," and she finished the description of the new Jerusalem in the Revelation of St. John.

"That isn't for such as me, Nannie—is it?" asked the poor boy, who had sat with his chin in his hand listening intently while the child was reading.

"Oh! yes," answered Nannie; "you should hear Mr. Bond talk about it, Pat. I couldn't believe that any of us would ever live in such a beautiful place; but he says 'tis just as we have a mind; that if we are good in this world, and do every thing that we know to be right, and try to keep from what we feel is wrong, and love God, we shall go there when we die; and I'm sure it is worth trying for—isn't it, Pat?" and Nannie closed the Book, and placed it reverently upon the stand in the corner.

Her mother had been busy getting the supper, but she heard the words of the blessed volume, and wiped away a tear with the corner of her apron as she thought of him who could have no part in that glorious city. But she mustn't let the children see her weep, so she put away her sorrow, and stirred about, talking cheerfully the while, and Pat felt that there was no place in the world like that neat cosey attic, and that Nannie Bates's lot was one to be envied indeed.

He didn't know how long she had pined in the damp and dreary cellar with nothing bright nor pretty near her, and how bitter all her days had been until just before he had befriended her—after Mr. Bond had provided her new home—for she had never told him any thing of the past. Indeed she scarcely ever dwelt upon it herself, for there was so much gladness for her now that she forgot all about any other time, and so her cheeks grew round and ruddy, and nobody would have thought her the same child that sat upon the steps of the great house in —— street one sunny day, some time before, with a pinched-looking little baby in her arms. Pat thought her the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and she fairly worshiped his great Irish face and the yellow hair that hung straight over his forehead. Winnie, too, would cling to him, and lay her little soft cheek to his red coarse face, and clasp her tiny arms about his neck, and play with the yellow locks as if they were the sunbeams themselves; and then she would jump and crow as he played bo-peep with her, and stretch out her wee hands and cry as he turned away and went tramping down the stairs. Pat knew how to win young hearts—there was always a cake of gingerbread in his pocket, or a stick of candy for Winnie, or a new rattle or something for Nannie, and both learned to watch for his coming with glad emotions.

He brought a rose-bush and a petunia for Nannie, and made a shelf for them by the window, and the beauteous buds came thick and fast, shedding out their fragrance in the sunny room, and making it still more delightful to Nannie. She would sit where the breeze wafted the pleasant odor to her, and, closing her eyes, fancy herself in Paradise, and she would watch the sun that she might catch every one of its warm rays for her plants.

She had never dreamed of getting so high up in the world as to have real flowers blooming in their own room. She thought such things were only for the rich; but she had yet to learn that there are many comforts and blessings that all may freely enjoy if they have only the taste and disposition, and that the poorest habitation may, at least, be made to bring forth the precious blossoms of hope and joy at the will of its inmates.