"Not at all; but I'm out making my New Year's calls."
"And it's an honor, indade, that you should call on me. Sit down, sir, if you please."
And she cleared off a chair, wiping it with her apron to insure cleanliness.
Philip chatted with her five minutes, inquiring about her family and circumstances. As he rose to go he took out ten dollars and handed it to her.
"Is it for me?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes, Mrs. Flaherty, a New Year's gift."
I should hardly venture to reproduce the grateful thanks which were showered upon Philip by the enthusiastic recipient of his gift, and how she invoked all the saints in the calendar to shield him from harm and fill his path with blessings.
Philip next went to a bookstore, and purchased a series of juveniles illustrated with bright, attractive pictures, and taking the horse cars again was landed near a quiet little street of no pretensions as regards fashion. He ascended the steps of a plain, wooden house of two stories, and rang the bell. It was the house of a widow, who made a scanty living by keeping boarders of an humble class. She had one boy of twelve, bright and athirst for knowledge, but an invalid, and not strong enough to go to school. There was nothing the lad loved like reading, but his mother could not afford to buy him books, and her friends were not many of them book owners. So he used to lie day after day on the old lounge, finding the hours weary and monotonous.
It was his mother who opened the door.
"Jimmy will be so glad to see you, Mr. Marden," she said. "You'll find him on the sofa, as usual."