patient and steady of rats. While Bright-eyes,
full of fun, made many a joke at the expense of the blind, crabbed old
rat, who had been so fond of talking, and now could scarcely utter a
squeak-- of eating, and now could not nibble a nut,-- Oddity never
thought the sufferings of another the subject for a smile, or the
peevishness and infirmities of age any theme for the ridicule of the
young. He had been often laughed at himself; that was perhaps the reason
why he never gave the same pain to others.

I was really glad to escape back to my shed from the atmosphere of a
peevish temper. I was accompanied to it by Oddity.

"And now, dear old rat," said I, when we were alone, "how go on our
little ragged friends? What has become of Bob and Billy?"

"They still live, or rather starve, in the old shed," said he; "but now
they go out each day together. I expect them here every minute."

"So then they are as poor as ever?" inquired I.

"I have heard something of occasional treats of warm soup at the school,
but I don't think that they get anything certain. I suppose that now and
then, when some good folk sit down to a comfortable meal, beside a
roaring fire, they just happen to remember that seventy or eighty
half-famished children are gathered together in a street near, and send
them a welcome supply. But both Bob and Billy have hope now, if they
have nothing else; they expect soon to be able to do something for
themselves, and to be helped on by the kind friends whom they have found
at the school."

"Has Bob brought home any more red handkerchiefs with white spots?"
inquired I.

"Not a rag of one," answered my companion; "but he brings back something
which puzzles my brain-- something white, with black marks upon it. He
and little Billy sit poring over it by the hour. They don't eat it, they
don't smell it, they don't wear it: I can't make out that it is of any
use to them at all; and yet they seem as much pleased, as they study it
together, as if it were a piece of Dutch cheese!"

"What are these odd things scattered about the shed?" said I; "I don't
remember seeing them before."

"Ah! I forgot to say the little one is beginning to make baskets, and
neat fingers he has about it: it seems quite a pleasure to the child.
The very talk of the boys is growing different now; the elder--"

He stopped at the sound of a distant cough, which became more
distressing every minute, till our two poor boys entered the shed,
and