tyles understands his old sailor business better than
shoemaking," with a grim laugh, "and no Tory knows these waters as I
do."

"And it's all right, and the end will be all right?" faltered Sibyl,
anxiously.

"All right! You'll know for yourself by nightfall, perhaps; and now God
bless you, little mistress. You've done a great service; and if ever
Anthony Styles can sarve you, he'll do it with a whole heart,--God bless
you, God bless you!" and with these words Shoemaker Styles hurried off,
leaving Sibyl with the slipper still in her hand, and both of them quite
oblivious of that important trying-on process.

The day after the ball was a busy one for Sir Harry Willing, and it was
not until late in the afternoon that he felt himself at liberty to take
his accustomed saunter about town.

As he came in sight of the gilded boot, he smilingly thought: "I wonder
if Shoemaker Styles has done his duty by the little slipper; if he has,
I shall dance with my lady Sibyl at Madame Boutineau's this evening."

But Sir Harry did not dance at Madame Boutineau's that evening, for when
at nightfall he returned to his quarters, he was met by the disastrous
tidings that the long-looked for, eagerly expected British brig, loaded
with supplies for the King's army, had been captured off Lechmere's
Point by the Yankee rebels.

It was not many months after this capture that the British evacuated
Boston. When Sir Harry Willing took leave of Sibyl Merridew, he pleaded
for some token of remembrance.

"You will not promise yourself to me," he said in reproachful accents,
"but give me some token of yourself, some gage of amity at least."

"But what--what can I give you, Sir Harry?" asked Sibyl, not a little
touched and troubled.

"Give me the little slipper you wore that night we danced together at
the Province House."

"That--that slipper?" and Sibyl blushed and paled.

"Yes--ah, you will, you will."

A moment's hesitation; then with a strange smile, half grave, half gay,
Sibyl answered, "I will."

A LITTLE BOARDING-SCHOOL SAMARITAN.

CHAPTER I.

It was Saturday afternoon, and Eva Nelson and Alice King were sitting in
their little study parlor at the Hill House Seminary poring over their
lesson chapter for the next day. It was the tenth chapter of St. Luke,
with the story of the good Samaritan. At last Eva flung herself back and
exclaimed, "We _can't_ be good as they were in those Bible days, no
matter _what_ a