towards it, mother?"

"Only five dollars, and it's eight. I don't see where the other three
dollars are coming from, unless,"--and here her glance rested on the
plain gold ring on her finger.

"Pledge your wedding-ring, mother!" exclaimed Mark. "Surely you don't
mean that?"

"I would rather do it than lose our shelter, poor as it is."

"There must be some other way--there must be."

"You will not receive any wages till Saturday."

"No, but perhaps we can borrow something till then. There's Mrs. Mack
up-stairs. She has plenty of money, though she lives in a poor way."

"There isn't much hope there, Mark. She feels poorer than I do, though I
am told she has five thousand dollars out at interest."

"Never mind. I am going to try her."

"Eat your supper first."

"So I will. I shall need all the strength I can get from a good meal to
confront her."

Half an hour later Mark went up-stairs and tapped at the door of the
rooms above his mother's.

"Come in!" said a feeble quavering voice.

Mark opened the door and entered. In a rocking chair sat, or rather
crouched, a little old woman, her face seamed and wrinkled. She had
taken a comforter from the bed and wrapped it around her to keep her
warm, for it was a chilly day, and there was no fire in her little
stove.

"Good evening, Mrs. Mack," said Mark. "How do you feel?"

"It's a cold day," groaned the old lady. "I--I feel very uncomfortable."

"Why don't you have a fire then?"

"It's gone out, and it's so late it isn't worth while to light it
again."

"But it is worth while to be comfortable," insisted Mark.

"I--I can keep warm with this comforter around me, and--fuel is high,
very high."

"But you can afford to buy more when this is burned."

"No, Mark. I have to be economical--very economical. I don't want to
spend all my money, and go to the poor-house."

"I don't think there's much danger of that. You've got money in the
savings bank, haven't you?"

"Yes--a little, but I can't earn anything. I'm too old to work, for I am
seventy-seven, and I might live years longer, you know."

"Don't you get interest on your money?"

"Yes, a little, but it costs a good deal to live."

"Well, if the interest isn't enough, you can use some of the principal.
I can put you in the way of earning twenty-five cents."

"Can you?" asked the old woman eagerly. "How?"

"If you'll lend me three dollars till Saturday--I get my wages
then--I'll pay you twenty-five ce