CHAPTER VIII.
JOHNNY'S NEW FATHER.
HE cold weather came on early this year. As he ran shivering home from school, Johnny saw, at almost every house, the preparations for winter. Here was a pile of wood, and there a large heap of coal, suggestive of warmth and comfort. Two days more and the important question about the factory would be decided. If Mrs. Miles went away, it would be very desolate. God only knew how they should be able to get along.
He thought of all this one night as he was returning from the factory, and to comfort himself began humming his favorite tune,—
"I have a Father in the promised land."
As he came in sight of the cottage, he wondered at the bright light which reflected from the windows; but he wondered still more at the scene presented within.
Their one table was set in the middle of the floor, and spread with such abundance as he had never seen there. His mother was hurrying to and fro, and intent on the cakes she was frying, while at the same time she talked with a well-dressed man who sat near the fire holding Ella in his lap.
"I haven't forgotten your favorite dish," she said, with an arch smile. "You liked rye fritters best, while Dexter preferred buckwheats."