"Yes, rather; but I can go. So Joe brought her here?"
"Yes; and see these flowers—yes, you must have some. Put them in your belt, Lisa."
"Oh, flowers don't suit my old clothes, child; keep them yourself, dear. Well, it is a long lane that has no turning," she said, half to herself and half to Phil. "Perhaps God has sent us Miss Schuyler to do for you what I have not been able to; but I have tried—he knows I have."
"And I know it too, dear Lisa," said Phil, pulling her down to him, and throwing both arms around her. "No one could be kinder, Lisa; and I love this old garret room, just because it is your home and mine. Now get me my harp, and when you have put it in the window, you can go; and I will try not to have any pain, so that you won't have to rub me to-night."
"Dear child!" was all Lisa could say, as she did what he asked her to do, and then left him alone.
[to be continued.]
[THE END OF MY MONKEY.]
BY JIMMY BROWN.
I haven't any monkey now, and I don't care what becomes of me. His loss was an awful blow, and I never expect to recover from it. I am a crushed boy, and when the grown folks find what their conduct has done to me, they will wish they had done differently.