Late that night, the mother was awakened by a noise under her window. She threw up the sash, when Henry's voice pleaded,—
"O mother! Do let me in. I'm sick and so hungry."
"Lie down, wife; it is better that I should go to him."
"COME IN, MY POOR BOY."
Henry shrank back when he saw his father.
"Come in, my poor boy," said the man, putting out his hand, "come in."
He led the wondering child to the stove, where he soon kindled a fire, then went to the closet and brought out the best food it contained.
Henry ate a little and began to cry.
"I'm sorry, father. I'll take the greatest whipping you'll give me, if you'll only let me come home. I stole your keys, and your money, too, and I broke teacher's knife."