ticed that the old gentleman bit his lip and looked down on the
ground, and she thought he must be rather kind, because he did not ask
any more questions, and did not look at her mother's sad face.

At this moment Maurice roused himself from his heavy sleep, and looked
round in stupid, slumbering wonder upon the stranger who seemed to have
made himself so much at home.

Janet ran to his side, and eagerly whispered the news, while Maurice
rubbed his eyes and took a good look at the new-comer.

"Hum! not much stuff in that little chap," said Mr. Smith.

"He has been very ill," replied the mother, looking anxiously at her
youngest child.

"Doctor's bill to pay, I suppose?"

"Yes," she answered hastily.

"Make haste, boy, and get well--sick boys are expensive things."

"What a queer man," said little Maurice.

"Come, Maury, come to mother's room, and I'll put you neat," said Ellen
kindly, as she took his little thin hand and led him away.

Then Mr. Smith put on his spectacles and drew the paper from his pocket,
and spoke no more until tea-time.

After that meal was over, the mother went out to deliver her parcel of
work, and the two little girls sat down with their sewing.

Suddenly their lodger spoke: "Do you like stories, children?"

"Yes, oh yes!" they answered eagerly, while a look of pleasure came over
Maurice's pale, shy face.

"What shall it be about?"

"Do you know much about the country, sir?" said Janet.

"Yes, my girl, more than most folks."

"Please, then, tell us about that," said Ellen.

The old man looked satisfied, and began a long description of the
country delights of his boyhood. The children listened attentively to
them; it was like some fairy tale, or a story of enchanted ground.

"Father used to tell us things like that," said little Janet.

"Did he?" said the old man quickly. "Did your father love the country?"

"Yes; but he ran away and left it, because he thought he would like the
town better," replied Ellen.

"And did he?" asked the stranger, while he looked keenly into the little
girl's face.

"No," she answered thoughtfully. "He said it wasn't right of him, and
that he had often wished himself back again there;--but I don't believe
father ever did what was wrong."

"Hum!" Mr. Smith suddenly looked away towards the fire and cleared his
throat violently; as he did so, his eyes rested on little Maurice, who
was sitting on his little stool in the chimney-corner, with the