can get along now,
sir; for I suppose I must keep it, as you say you didn't send
it, and use it for the children's sake, and thank God for his good
mercy,--since I don't know, and never shall, where it came from,
now."

"Mrs. Miller," he said quickly, "you spoke in this way before;
and I don't know what you refer to. What do you mean by--_it?_"

"Oh! I forgot, sir: it puzzles me so. You see, sir, I was sitting
here after I got home from your house, thinking what I should do,
when Mrs. Flanagan came up stairs with a letter for me, that she said
a strange man left at the door for Mrs. Miller; and Mrs. Flanagan
couldn't describe him well, or understandingly; and it had no
direction at all, only the man inquired who was the landlord, and
if Mrs. Miller had a sick child, and then said the letter was for
me; and there was no writing inside the letter, but there was fifty
dollars. That's all, sir. It gave me a great shock, sir; and I
couldn't think who sent it, only when you came to-night, I thought
it was you; but you said it wasn't, and I never shall know who
it was, now. It seems as if the hand of God was in it, sir, for
it came when everything was darkest, and I was in despair."

"Why, Mrs. Miller," he slowly answered, "this is very mysterious.
The man inquired if I was the owner of the house--oh! no--he only
inquired who was--but then he knew I was the--oh! bother! I'm getting
nowhere. Let's see. Why, it must be some one you know, or that
knows your circumstances."

"But there's no one knows them but yourself; and I told you," she
replied; "no one else but the people in the house. It must have
been some rich person, for the letter was a gilt-edge sheet, and
there was perfume in it, sir."

"Strange," he murmured. "Well, I give it up. All is, I advise you to
keep it, and I'm very glad some one did his duty by you in your hour
of need, though I'm sorry it was not myself. Here's Mrs. Flanagan."

There was a good deal done, and a great burden lifted off an humble
heart--nay, two!--before Dr. Renton thought of going home. There
was a patient gained, likely to do Dr. Renton more good than any
patient he had lost. There was a kettle singing on the stove, and
blowing off a happier steam than any engine ever blew on that railroad
whose unmarketable stock had singed Dr. Renton's fingers. There
was a yellow gleam flickering from the blazing fire on the sober
binding of a good old Book upon a shelf with others, a rarer medica