“On ⸺ Street.”
“Oh! that is not far off. I will myself show you the way, if you will remain a few minutes longer.”
Mr. Dinsmoor rang the bell, and ordered a plate of cake and apples, as he conjectured they would not be unacceptable to his little visitor.
Meanwhile, Lizzie crept to her mother’s side, and whispered,—
“Willie is poor,—isn’t he?”
“Yes. What makes you ask?”
“I thought he must be, because his clothes look so thin, and patched. Don’t you think he would like a Christmas present, mother?”
“Yes, my darling. Have you any thing to give him?”
“I thought, mother, perhaps you would let me give him my five-dollar gold-piece. I think that would be better than any playthings. May I give it?”
“Yes, my child, if you are really willing. But are you quite sure that you would not regret it afterwards?”