"Oh! mother," said Nannie, throwing her hood upon the table and brushing the hair off from her flushed forehead, "school's so nice! Miss Coit's one of the dearest ladies; and she says I'll be one of her best scholars if I keep on as I've begun; and we have such beautiful singing, and Christmas is 'most here, and then we are to have a tree hung all over with presents for the children! Won't it be grand, mother?" and she laid her hand on her mother's arm to force her to stop working and attend to her.

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Bates, "it's glad I am for ye, Nannie; but what's that in your hand, child?" taking the paper and looking upon the little curl within.

"Oh! mother," replied Nannie in a sad tone, "it's May Minturn's, she that loved our baby, and she's gone where Winnie is; and her mother's such a pale sweet lady! She gave me this, because she said May and Winnie are as sisters up in heaven."

That was such a pleasant thought to Mrs. Bates. She was too sensible a woman to wish to do away with the distinctions which are productive of much good in this life, but it was a happiness to feel that in the other world, the good and pure could all mingle as brethren; that despoiled of the external marks of roughness which make so much difference here, the spirit could appear in its real loveliness so that it would be neither loathsome nor repulsive. She did not expect those who were fitted by the advantages of education and refinement for a high position in life, to stoop to an equality with those whose more humble stations were wisely allotted them. She appreciated their self-denial and kindness in seeking out the lowly ones, and aiding them in their efforts to struggle upward, and no taint of envy or hatred toward those whom God had chosen to place above her in this world, ever found its way to her heart. So with a meek and contented mind she pursued her quiet way, never murmuring because of blessings withheld, but grateful for the unmerited favors so richly heaped upon her. She had a great deal to be thankful for! Nannie was in a good way, and Pat was just like a son to her, doing her errands, and helping her about the wood and water as if she were his own mother. He had come to board with them now, for it had grown so bad in his own home, and he had vainly tried to make it better—so he left them altogether, and Mrs. Bates had a rough couch constructed, and she covered it with neat print; and there in the outer room Pat slept. He was up betimes in the morning, and had the fire made and the kettle on to boil, and then he heard Nannie study, while her mother got the breakfast ready; and by this means he acquired the same knowledge himself, for Pat was ready to learn, if he had been kept down all his life with no culture nor teaching.

His board helped them, and their kindness and affection helped him more than he had ever been aided since his birth, for he came to think he was of some consequence to somebody, and this makes a wondrous difference to a person. It made Pat particular in his manners and neat in his dress, and it brought a peculiar joy to his heart to know that the house was a gainer by his coming to it. Mr. Bond had got him a situation as porter in the establishment of one of his mercantile friends, and his employer thought every thing of the diligent and honest lad, and gave him good wages, so that he had a trifle to lay up, besides providing his board and clothing, and getting an occasional present for Mrs. Bates or Nannie. It was altogether a very thrifty household now, and Mr. Bond felt no uneasiness about going awhile to leave them.

He had had a lingering cough ever since his illness, and the doctor ordered change of air and a warmer climate, and so he must go. It was very hard to leave his snug room, and to turn away from the silent face that was ever looking upon him, and it cost him many a serious pang to give up the care of his favorite puss to the tender mercies of Mrs. Kinalden; but it would be wrong to tamper with his health, and he must crush all regrets and disinclinations, and perhaps he might return sooner than even his physician had hoped. He waited but one moment—after the carriage came to bear him to the boat bound for Cuba—to take his farewell of the objects of his deepest regard, and then went more gravely down stairs than was his wont.

Mrs. Kinalden felt a sort of sorrow as she closed the blinds of his room, making all dark, and then turned the key in the lock, while puss preceded her to her own sitting-room, and she bestowed sundry endearing epithets upon the animal, even patting her back in a friendly sort of way as she stooped to smooth the rug for her to lie upon. It was something to miss the step that for years had been heard in the house, and to see the place that he had so longed filled at table occupied by another.

Mrs. Kinalden had a heart after all, so you would have thought had you seen how often the silk handkerchief was applied to her eyes in the course of that day.