wer.

"That's right; now we'll sing 'Pull fer the shore.'"

When the windows had ceased to rattle from the vibrations of the
lusty chorus, Mrs. Wiggs lifted her hands for silence.

"O Lord!" she prayed earnestly, "help these here childern to be good
an' kind to each other, an' to their mas an' their pas. Make 'em
thankful fer whatever they 'are got, even if it ain't but a little.
Show us all how to live like you want us to live, an' praise God
from whom all blessin's flow. Amen."

As the last youngster scampered out of the yard, Mrs. Wiggs turned
to the window where Jim was standing. He had taken no part in the
singing, and was silent and preoccupied. "Jim," said his mother,
trying to look into his face, "you never had on yer overcoat when
you come in. You ain't gone an' sold it?"

"Yes," said the boy, heavily; "but 't ain't 'nough fer the rent. I
got to figger it out some other way."

Mrs. Wiggs put her arm about his shoulder, and together they looked
out across the dreary commons.

"Don't you worry so, Jimmy," said she. "Mebbe I kin git work
to-morrow, or you'll git a raise, or somethin'; they'll be some
way."

Little she guessed what the way was to be.

CHAPTER II

WAYS AND MEANS

"Ah! well may the children weep before you!
They are weary ere they run;
They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory
Which is brighter than the Sun."

THE cold wave that was ushered in that December morning was the
beginning of a long series of days that vied with each other as to
which could induce the mercury to drop the lowest. The descent of
the temperature seemed to have a like effect on the barrel of
potatoes and the load of coal in the Wiggses' parlor.

Mrs. Wiggs's untiring efforts to find employment had met with no
success, and Jim's exertions were redoubled; day by day his scanty
earnings became less sufficient to meet the demands of the family.

On Christmas eve they sat over the stove, after the little ones had
gone to bed, and discussed the situation. The wind hurled itself
against the house in a very frenzy of rage, shaking the icicles from
the window-ledge and hissing through the patched panes. The snow
that sifted in through the loose sash lay unmelted on the sill. Jim
had a piece of old carpet about him, and coughed with almost every
breath. Mrs. Wiggs's head was in her hands, and the tears that
trickled through her crooked fingers hissed as they fell on the
stove. It was the fi