"Yes, sir," answered Paul, gravely. He took the bundle and trudged out into the snow.
When he reached home, his mother looked in surprise at his bundle. "Where have you been, dear?"
"I went to town, mama," Paul answered. He put the note into her hand. She opened it and read:—
"MRS. MAY: This little man has bought a wrap for you. He says he is your protector. For his sake keep the wrap and let him work to pay for it. It will be a great pleasure to him. He has the making of a fine man in him. WILLIAM MARTIN."
Paul was astonished to see tears in his mothers eyes; he had thought she would be so happy, and she was crying. She put her arm about him and kissed him. Then she put on the wrap and told how pretty she thought it.
When the snow stopped falling, Paul went down to the store and cleaned the snow from the front walk. He did not know that Mr. Martin's hired man swept it again, for the little arms were not strong enough to sweep it quite clean.
The days passed, and one morning Paul had a very sore throat.
"You mustn't get up today, dear," his mother said. When she brought his breakfast, she found him crying. "What is making you cry? Is your throat hurting much?"
"No, mama. Don't you see it is snowing, and I can't go and clean the walk?" cried Paul.
"Shall I write a note to Mr. Martin and explain why you are not there?"