" said Maggie, when Dr. Fisher had
gone.

"I don't seem to care about any supper," replied Leo, gloomily.

"You must eat your supper, Leo," added Maggie, as she placed the teapot
on the table. "There are some cold sausages I saved for _mon pere_. Sit
down, Leo. We must work now, and we need all the strength we can get."

Then she crept on tiptoe into the front room, and looked into the face
of the sleeper. He was still slumbering, and she returned to the table,
seating herself in her accustomed place, near the stove. Leo looked
heavy and gloomy, as well he might; for the sad event of that day
promised to blast the bright hopes in which his sanguine nature
revelled. He knew, and Maggie knew, that Andre Maggimore had made no
preparation for the calamity which had so suddenly overtaken him.

It was Wednesday, and the wages of the preceding week were more than
half used. He had no money, no resources, no friends upon whom he could
depend, to fall back on in the day of his weakness. The barber was
faithful and affectionate as a woman, but he had no business
calculation, and his forethought rarely extended beyond the duration of
a single week. While he owed no man anything, and never contracted any
debts, he had never saved a dollar beyond what he had invested in
furnishing the small house.

The dark day had come, and Leo was the first to see it. In another
week, or, at most, in two weeks, every dollar the barber had would have
been spent. It was plain enough to him that he could not continue to
attend school till exhibition day came, and he would lose the medal he
coveted, and for which he had worked most diligently. Maggie poured out
his cup of tea, and handed it to him. He was eating his supper; but his
head was bowed down.

"Leo," said she.

He looked up with a start, took his tea, and immediately lost himself
again.

"Leo!" added Maggie, in her peculiarly tender tones.

He looked up again.

"What are you thinking about, Leo?" she continued, gazing earnestly at
him. "I need not ask you, Leo. You are thinking of poor _mon pere_."

"I was thinking of him. I was thinking, too, that I should lose my
medal now," replied Leo, gloomily.

"Fie on your medal! Don't think of such a trifle as that!" she added,
gently rebuking the selfish thought of her brother.

"You don't quite understand me, Maggie."

"I hope you are not thinking of yourself, Leo--only of _mon pere_."

"I was thinking that he has worked for me,