there's company in the parlour--Miss Carry's Christmas
party."

"Ask her to please pay me--at least a part," said old Ann hastily. "I
don't see how I can do without the money. I counted on it."

"I'll ask her," said the pert young woman, turning to go upstairs; "but
it's no use."

Returning in a moment, she delivered the message. "She has no change
to-night; you're to come in the morning."

"Dear me!" thought 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.

"G