making money fast.--If he does not take care,
we shall have other work to do with him by and by, poor fellow!"

"I and some others did the same for a poor play-writer once. He had a
Christmas piece to write, and [not] being an original genius, it was
not so easy for him to find a subject as it is for most of his class. I
saw the trouble he was in, and collecting a few stray Shadows, we
acted, in dumb-show of course, the funniest bit of nonsense we could
think of; and it was quite successful. The poor fellow watched every
motion, roaring with laughter at us, and delight at the ideas we put
into his head. He turned it all into words, and scenes, and actions;
and the piece came off with a splendid success."

"But how long we have to look for a chance of doing anything worth
doing," said a long, thin, especially lugubrious Shadow. "I have only
done one thing worth telling ever since we met last. But I am proud of
that."

"What was it? What was it?" rose from twenty voices.

"I crept into a dining-room, one twilight, soon after Christmas-day. I
had been drawn thither by the glow of a bright fire shining through red
window-curtains. At first I thought there was no one there, and was on
the point of leaving the room, and going out again into the snowy
street, when I suddenly caught the sparkle of eyes. I found that they
belonged to a little boy who lay very still on a sofa. I crept into a
dark corner by the sideboard, and watched him. He seemed very sad, and
did nothing but stare into the fire. At last he sighed out,--'I wish
mamma would come home.' 'Poor boy!' thought I, 'there is no help for
that but mamma.' Yet I would try to while away the time for him. So out
of my corner I stretched a long shadow arm, reaching all across the
ceiling, and pretended to make a grab at him. He was rather frightened
at first; but he was a brave boy, and soon saw that it was all a joke.
So when I did it again, he made a clutch at me; and then we had such
fun! For though he often sighed and wished mamma would come home, he
always began again with me; and on we went with the wildest games. At
last his mother's knock came to the door, and starting up in delight,
he rushed into the hall to meet her, and forgot all about poor black
me. But I did not mind that in the least; for when I glided out after
him into the hall, I was well repaid for my trouble by hearing his
mother say to him,--'Why, Charlie, my dear, you look ever so much
better since