imes is hard, and my rent is a thousand dollars; but I couldn't see her
die there, so I took her in, and put a bed up in the basement, and let
her have it. 'Twas all I could do; but, poor thing! she won't want even
that long.'

'It was very good of you. How has she obtained food?'

'The little boy sells papers and ballads about the streets. The newsman
round the corner trusts him for 'em, and he's managed to make
twenty-five cents or more most every day.'

'Can't you give her another room? She should not die where she is.'

'I know she shouldn't, sir, but I hain't got another--all of 'em is
taken up; and besides, sir,' and she hesitated a moment, 'the noise up
here would disturb her.'

I had not thought of that; and expressing myself gratified with her
kindness, I passed down again to the basement. The sick girl smiled as I
opened the door, and held out her hand again to me. Taking it in mine, I
asked:

'Do you feel better?'

'Much better,' she said, in a voice stronger than before. 'I have not
felt so well for a long time. I owe it to you, sir! I am very grateful.'

'Don't speak of it, madam. Won't you have more of the broth?'

'No more, thank you. I won't trouble you any more, sir--I shan't trouble
any one long;' and her eyes filled, and her voice quivered; 'but, O sir!
my child! my little boy! What _will_ become of him when I'm gone?' and
she burst into a hysterical fit of weeping.

'Don't weep so, madam. Calm yourself; such excitement will kill you. God
will provide for your child. I will try to help him, madam.'

She looked at me with those deep, intense eyes. A new light seemed to
come into them; it overspread her face, and lit up her thin, wan
features with a strange glow.

'It must be so,' she said, 'else why were you led here? God must have
sent you to me for that!'

'No doubt he did, madam. Let it comfort you to think so.'

'It does, oh! it does. And, O my Father!' and she looked up to Him as
she spoke: 'I thank thee! Thy poor, sinful, dying child thanks thee;
and, oh! bless _him_, forever bless him, for it!'

I turned away to hide the emotion I could not repress. A moment after,
not seeing the little boy, I asked:

'Where is your son?'

'Here, sir.' And turning down the bed-clothing, she showed him sleeping
quietly by her side, all unconscious of the misery and the sin around
him, and of the mighty crisis through which his young life was passing.

Saying I would return on the following d