from everybody else.
Other mothers who had little boys like me, always took their little boys
with them when they went to walk. All the sunshiny days they went
walking up and down--walking up and down; and the mothers were not cross
like Betty, and the little boys were not lonesome like me, but had such
red, chubby cheeks, and looked happy 'most all the time. The first day I
found this out, when Betty took me away from the window, and stood me up
before the glass to comb my hair, and I looked in and saw what a face I
had, I cried and cried. Then the mothers would smile and look pleased
whenever their little boys spoke to them, and seemed to love them so
much, that I wanted them to love me too; and I used to throw little
things out of the window sometimes, so that they would look up and smile
at me.'

Ah! the young, tender heart, living, as yet, only by the affections,
that required such a wealth of love to fill it! The little outcast heart
depending on casual passers by for a stray word or look of comfort,
striving to feed itself on such poor, miserable crumbs as these! It made
the mother's face grow white with anguish to think of _that_.

'Well, about just such a time every morning, when Charley had gone to
school, and I sat by the window as lonesome as lonesome could be, on the
sidewalk under the window there always came a lady who was kinder to me
than the other ladies, who _always_ looked up and smiled. Such a
beautiful lady, ma, with a face as kind as pa's, and a great deal more
smiling; you'd love her if you saw her; I know you would--you couldn't
help it. And ma,' and here Harry's enthusiasm died out, and his voice
took a sadder tone, 'she's got a little boy, just about as big as I am,
and she always takes him with her when she goes out, just like the other
ladies. And--and ma'--the low voice had a frightened tone in it, as if
the little one feared he was venturing too far.

'Yes, Harry.'

'I thought--that--that--'

'What, darling?'

'That if you would go out to walk yourself sometimes, and take us with
you, Charley and me, that we shouldn't be so different from everybody
else, and it wouldn't be quite so lonesome here.'

A long pause followed--a frightened pause on Harry's part. Venturing,
after a little while, to look into his mother's face, its sadness,
unmixed with anger reassured him, and he proceeded:

'That was the lady who sent you the flower. She lives in a little white
house just across the ro