ow much he makes?"

"I think it's twelve dollars," she replied thoughtfully.

"And the other children?"

"Martha and Veronica don't do anything yet. They're too young. My
brother George works at Wilson's. He's a cash-boy. He gets three
dollars and a half."

"And how much do you make?"

"I make four."

He stopped, figuring up mentally just what they had to live on.
"How much rent do you pay?" he continued.

"Twelve dollars."

"How old is your mother?"

"She's nearly fifty now."

He turned a fork in his hands back and forth; he was thinking
earnestly.

"To tell you the honest truth, I fancied it was something like
that, Jennie," he said. "I've been thinking about you a lot. Now, I
know. There's only one answer to your problem, and it isn't such a bad
one, if you'll only believe me." He paused for an inquiry, but she
made none. Her mind was running on her own difficulties.

"Don't you want to know?" he inquired.

"Yes," she answered mechanically.

"It's me," he replied. "You have to let me help you. I wanted to
last time. Now you have to; do you hear?"

"I thought I wouldn't," she said simply.

"I knew what you thought," he replied. "That's all over now. I'm
going to 'tend to that family of yours. And I'll do it right now while
I think of it."

He drew out his purse and extracted several ten and twenty-dollar
bills--two hundred and fifty dollars in all. "I want you to take
this," he said. "It's just the beginning. I will see that your family
is provided for from now on. Here, give me your hand."

"Oh no," she said. "Not so much. Don't give me all that."

"Yes," he replied. "Don't argue. Here. Give me your hand."

She put it out in answer to the summons of his eyes, and he shut
her fingers on the money, pressing them gently at the same time. "I
want you to have it, sweet. I love you, little girl. I'm not going to
see you suffer, nor any one belonging to you."

Her eyes looked a dumb thankfulness, and she bit her lips.

"I don't know how to thank you," she said.

"You don't need to," he replied. "The thanks are all the other
way--believe me."

He paused and looked at her, the beauty of her face holding him.
She looked at the table, wondering what would come next.

"How would you like to leave what you're doing and stay at home?"
he asked. "That would give you your freedom day times."

"I couldn't do that," she replied. "Papa wouldn't allow it. He
knows I ought to work."

"That's true eno