"Look here, now," urged Mr. Miles; "I'm going to start a subscription for the benefit of the widow. It would make your heart ache to see how very destitute she is of everything. I want your name down, of course; I must have it. So here goes,—'Allen Manning, one dollar and a half.' There, you'll be glad whenever you think of having made a child happy and comfortable."
"Well, if you say so, I suppose I must."
"Thank you. Now I want your wife to join with mine and just make the widow's hovel a little more tenantable. They'll work together finely, I know. Mrs. Miles says she is sure a little nourishing food will do more for the poor soul than a shop-full of medicine. You see, the poor creature thinks herself in a decline."
Mr. Manning tied up the bundle and handed it to Johnny; and then the two started off for home, the boy having looked the thanks his trembling lips refused to utter.
"Now, Johnny," said Mr. Miles, "here's your medal; wear it around your neck as long as you are a truthful boy. When you tell your first lie, bring it to me."
"I don't dare to tell lies, sir; mother says God hates liars; but 'those that speak the truth are his delight.'"
"That's true doctrine; and here we are."
Mrs. Miles opened the door when she heard her husband's voice, and said, in a pleasant tone, and manner,—