, and then under circumstances he had never
forgotten. He stood irresolute a moment, then turned back and came under
the little awning. Tode's face glowed with pleasure as he flung aside
his grammar and came briskly forward to wait on his distinguished
guest.

"I'll take a glass of lemonade, if you please," began Mr. Birge,
preparing to feel his way cautiously into the heart of this bright eyed
boy, and find if he was indeed the one whose mother had prayed for him
but once in her life, and that on her dying bed.

"Yes, sir," answered Tode, promptly, giving the glasses little gleeful
chinks as he singled out the clearest.

"I see you keep a temperance establishment. I'm glad of that. I didn't
expect to find a place in this quarter of the city where a temperance
man could get any refreshment."

"Yes, sir, that's why I came down here to do business, 'cause there was
nothing but rum all around here, and I thought it was time they had the
other side of the story; and things _are_ improving some. The man that
kept the saloon right next to me drank himself to death, and broke down,
and the man that moved in is going to keep Yankee notions instead of
whisky."

By a few skillfully put questions Mr. Birge satisfied himself that the
brisk young person who talked about "doing business" and his small
acquaintance of the Albany cellar were one and the same; and by this
time, drink as slowly as he could, the lemonade was exhausted. So, bound
to be a valuable customer, he tried again.

"What nice things do you keep hidden under that dainty napkin? Cakes,
eh? Suppose I take one. Do they go well with lemonade?"

"First-rate, sir." And Tode's face was radiant with pleasure as he saw
not only one but three of Winny's delicious cream cakes disappear.

Then Mr. Birge took out his pocket-book. It was no part of his intention
just then and there to betray any previous knowledge of the boy's
history; the little scene in that life drama which he had helped enact
was too solemn and sacred, too fraught with what might be made into
tender memories, to be given by a stranger into the hands of a rough and
probably hardened boy; he could keep it to tell gently to this poor
fellow in the quiet of some softly-lighted room, when he should have
gained an influence over him for good, for he was a fisher of boys as
well as men, this good man; and he told himself that the Lord had thrown
this self-same boy into his path again, to give him a chance t