replied Joe, as if surprised at her question.

Mrs. Thompson looked rather strangely at her husband for sonic
moments, and then dropped her eyes. The subject was not again
referred to during the meal. At its close, Mrs. Thompson toasted a
slice of bread, and softened, it with milk and butter; adding to
this a cup of tea, she took them into Maggie, and held the small
waiter, on which she had placed them, while the hungry child ate
with every sign of pleasure.

"Is it good?" asked Mrs. Thompson, seeing with what a keen relish
the food was taken.

The child paused with the cup in her hand, and answered with a look
of gratitude that awoke to new life old human feelings which had
been slumbering in her heart for half a score of years.

"We'll keep her a day or two longer; she is so weak and helpless,"
said Mrs. Joe Thompson, in answer to her husband's remark, at
breakfast-time on the next morning, that he must step down and see
the Guardians of the Poor about Maggie.

"She'll be so much in your way," said Joe.

"I sha'n't mind that for a day or two. Poor thing!"

Joe did not see the Guardians of the Poor on that day, on the next,
nor on the day following. In fact, he never saw them at all on
Maggie's account, for in less than a week Mrs. Joe Thompson would as
soon leave thought of taking up her own abode in the almshouse as
sending Maggie there.

What light and blessing did that sick and helpless child bring to
the home of Joe Thompson, the poor wheelwright! It had been dark,
and cold, and miserable there for a long time just because his wife
had nothing to love and care for out of herself, and so became soar,
irritable, ill-tempered, and self-afflicting in the desolation of
her woman's nature. Now the sweetness of that sick child, looking
ever to her in love, patience, and gratitude, was as honey to her
soul, and she carried her in her heart as well as in her arms, a
precious burden. As for Joe Thompson, there was not a man in all the
neighborhood who drank daily of a more precious wine of life than
he. An angel had come into his house, disguised as a sick, helpless,
and miserable child, and filled all its dreary chambers with the
sunshine of love.

XVI.

WHICH WAS MOST THE LADY?

"DID you ever see such a queer looking figure?" exclaimed a young
lady, speaking loud enough to be heard by the object of her remark.
She was riding slowly along in an open carriage, a short distance
from the city, accomp