"Never mind the milk. You are a blessed child."
"Give me a pitcher, Katy. I will go down to Thomas's in two shakes of a jiffy."
Mrs. Flint protested that she did not want any milk—that she could get along very well without it; but Harry said the children must have it; and, without waiting for Katy to get the pitcher, he took it from the closet, and ran out of the house.
He was gone but a few minutes. When he returned he found Katy trying to make the teakettle boil, but with very poor success.
"Now, Katy, show me the logs, and I will soon have a fire."
The lame girl conducted him to the cellar, where Harry found the remnants of the old box which Katy had tried to split. Seizing the axe, he struck a few vigorous blows, and the pine boards were reduced to a proper shape for use. Taking an armful, he returned to the chamber; and soon a good fire was blazing under the teakettle.
"There, marm, we will soon have things to rights," said Harry, as he rose from the hearth, where he had stooped down to blow the fire.
"I am sure we should have perished if you had not come," added Mrs. Flint, who was not disposed to undervalue Harry's good deeds.
"Then I am very glad I came."
"I hope we shall be able to pay you back all the money you have spent; but I don't know. Joseph has got so bad, I don't know what he is coming to. He is a good-hearted man. He always uses me well, even when he is in liquor. Nothing but drink could make him neglect us so."