ught Ann, as she plodded back through the streets, "it'll
be even worse than I expected, for there's not a morsel to eat in
the house, and not a penny to buy one with. Well--well--the Lord will
provide, the Good Book says, but it's mighty dark days, and it's hard to
believe."

Entering the house, Ann sat down silently before the expiring fire. She
was tired, her bones ached, and she was faint for want of food.

Wearily she rested her head on her hands, and tried to think of some way
to get a few cents. She had nothing she could sell or pawn, everything
she could do without had gone before, in similar emergencies. After
sitting there some time, and revolving plan after plan, only to find
them all impossible, she was forced to conclude that they must go
supperless to bed.

Her husband grumbled, and Katey--who came in from a neighbour's--cried
with hunger, and after they were asleep old Ann crept into bed to keep
warm, more disheartened than she had been all winter.

If we could only see a little way ahead! All this time--the darkest the
house on the alley had seen--help was on the way to them. A kind-hearted
city missionary, visiting one of the unfortunate families living in
the upper rooms of old Ann's house, had learned from them of the
noble charity of the humble old washerwoman. It was more than princely
charity, for she not only denied herself nearly every comfort, but she
endured the reproaches of her husband, and the tears of her child.

Telling the story to a party of his friends this Christmas Eve, their
hearts were troubled, and they at once emptied their purses into his
hands for her. And the gift was at that very moment in the pocket of the
missionary, waiting for morning to make her Christmas happy. Christmas
morning broke clear and cold. Ann was up early, as usual, made her fire,
with the last of her coal, cleared up her two rooms, and, leaving her
husband and Katey in bed, was about starting out to try and get
her money to provide a breakfast for them. At the door she met the
missionary.

"Good-morning, Ann," said he. "I wish you a Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, sir," said Ann cheerfully; "the same to yourself."

"Have you been to breakfast already?" asked the missionary.

"No, sir," said Ann. "I was just going out for it."

"I haven't either," said he, "but I couldn't bear to wait until I had
eaten breakfast before I brought you your Christmas present--I suspect
you haven't had any yet."

Ann