“They are not worth a dollar,” replied Ernest; “but I can bring you more, if you like.”
“We have enough, my good boy. A dollar is not too much for them. And now, give me your name, and tell me where you live, for I shall wish to see more of you.”
“My name is Ernest Lawrence, Sir; and we live in one room of the large white house near the Baptist church.”
“Ah, yes, I know the place. Well, Ernest, tell your mother that I will call to see her to-morrow morning, about ten o’clock.”
“Thank you, Sir; I will not forget to tell her. She will be very much obliged to you for your kindness, and so will Rosy.”
“Who is Rosy?” asked Ellen, who had been an attentive listener to the conversation between her father and the little match boy.
“My sister, Miss,” replied Ernest, as he took up his basket, and made his best bow to the gentleman.
The next morning was a long one to the two children. Very early had Rosy assisted her mother in putting their little room in the neatest order; and two hours before the time when they might expect the gentleman, she was gazing eagerly from the window, hoping that he would soon arrive.
The right time came at last; and Mr. Burnap—for this was the name of Ernest’s benefactor—was seen ascending the steps. The children ran to the door to receive him, and show him the way to their room.
He spoke kindly to them both, and stroked Rosy’s golden curls; but he had not long to stay, and seemed anxious to have some conversation with their mother. So the children employed themselves quietly in another part of the room, and were careful not to speak a loud word, for fear of disturbing their guest.