looking into Henry's face with an
air of relief and satisfaction after he had finished the first foot.

"It feels a good deal better," replied the child, his voice and the
expression of his countenance both indicating that he no longer
suffered so excruciatingly as he had but a short time previously.

The other foot was soon dressed in the same way. Doctor R--then went
back into the house and got a loose pair of stockings and a light
pair of shoes, belonging to one of the apothecary's children, from
their mother. These fitted Henry comfortably, and when he stood down
upon his feet he did not experience any pain.

"That feels a good deal better, don't it?" said the doctor, smiling.

"Yes, indeed it does," and Henry looked his gratitude; and yet,
blended with that look, was an expression that seemed to the doctor
an appeal for protection.

"You're afraid to go back now, ain't you, since you've stayed so
long?" he asked, in a tone meant to encourage the child's
confidence.

"Indeed I am. Mr. Sharp will be almost sure to beat me."

"What a very devil incarnate the man must be!" muttered Dr. R--to
himself, taking three or four strides across the floor. "I shall
have to take the little fellow home, and browbeat his master, I
suppose," he continued. Then addressing Henry, he said, aloud--

"Well, I'll take you home to him in my carriage, and settle all that
for you, my little man; so don't be frightened."

Acting upon this resolution, Dr. R--soon drove up before the
hatter's shop, and, lifting out Henry himself, led him into the
presence of his astonished master.

"What's the matter now?" asked the latter, roughly, and with a
forbidding aspect of countenance.

"The matter is simply this, sir," responded Doctor R--, firmly. "I
found this little boy of yours on the street absolutely unable to
get along a step further; and on taking him into the drug store
above, and examining his feet, I found them in a most shocking
condition! Why, sir, in twelve hours mortification would have
commenced, when nothing could have saved his life but the amputation
of both limbs." The sober earnestness of Doctor R--caused Sharp to
feel some alarm, and he said--

"I had no idea, doctor, that he was as bad as that."

"Well, he is, I can assure you, and it is a fortunate thing that I
happened to come across him. Why, I haven't seen so bad a case of
chilblains these ten years."

"What ought I to do for him, doctor?" asked Sharp, in r