There was so much to be done that the lad feared he should miss seeing his little friend but at last one of the waiters asked him to scour a tray of knives, and he gladly took refuge with his brick and board out of the heated kitchen into the cool, shady court.
"Why, Harrison! how do you do? I have looked for you this long time," soon called out the familiar voice. "I went into the country yesterday, and we're all going out there for the summer. I wish you could go too."
"I wish I could," said the boy seriously.
"Have you bought the bonnet yet?"
"No; I never can buy one. My money was all stolen away. I had four dollars, enough to buy a real beauty: but it's all gone now."
Harrison's lips quivered, and the tears gushed to his eyes.
"Oh, that is too bad! I'm very sorry; don't cry." Ella, whose own eye-lashes were heavy with unshed tears, ran quickly to impart to her mother the sorrowful tale.
She was absent more than fifteen minutes, and the lad had nearly completed his task when she reappeared, jumping up and down for very gladness.
"Harrison!" she called out, "when you've done your work you must be sure and come to our room, number five in the long hall. Mother has something to give you. Oh, won't you be glad! Don't you forget, now."
The boy did not think it very likely he should forget; but, faithful to his employers, he gathered up his well-scoured knives and re-entered the kitchen, saying as he did so, "I'm so busy to-day, I don't know when I shall be ready to go home."