“What?” asked Livingstone.

“Something to make mamma well:  to help papa pay for the house.  He says it’s that ’at keeps her ill, and she says if she were well he could pay for it:  and I just pray to God for it every day.”

Livingstone caught his breath quickly as if from a sudden pain.  The long years of Clark’s faithful service flashed before him.  He shivered at the thought of his own meanness.  He was afraid those great eyes might see into his heart.  He almost shrivelled at the thought.

“Well, let’s take a sleigh-ride and see if any other shops are open.  Then we can return.”

He spoke a few words aside to Mr. Brown.  The shopkeeper’s eyes opened wide.

“But you say you haven’t money enough with you, and I don’t know you?”

Livingstone smiled.

“Why, man, I am worth—­” He stopped short as a faint trace of seven figures appeared vaguely before his eyes.  “I am worth enough to buy all this square and not feel it,” he said, quickly correcting himself.

“That may be all so, but I don’t know you,” persisted the shopkeeper.  “Do you know anybody in this part of the town?”

“Well, I know Mr. Clark.  He would vouch for me, but—.”

The shopkeeper turned to the child.

“Kitty, you know this gentleman, you say?”

“Yes.  Oh, he’s all right,” said Kitty decisively.  “He’s my papa’s employer and he gave him fifty dollars last Christmas, ’cause my papa told me so.”

This munificent gift did not appear to impress Mr. Brown very much, any more than it did Livingstone, who felt himself flush.

“Business is business, you know?” said the shopkeeper,—­an aphorism on which Livingstone had often acted, but had never had cited against him.

The shopkeeper was evidently considering.

Livingstone was half angry and half embarrassed.  He felt as he had not done in twenty years.  The shopkeeper was weighing him in his scales as he might have done a pound of merchandise, and Livingstone could not tell what he would decide.  There was Kitty, however, her eyes still filled with light.  He could not disappoint her.  She, too, felt that he was being weighed and suddenly came to his rescue.

“He’s an awful kind man,” she said earnestly.  “He hasn’t got any little children of his own, and he’s going to give things to little poor children.  He always does that, I guess,” she added.

“Well, no, I don’t,” said Livingstone, looking at the shopkeeper frankly; “but I wish I had, and I’ll pay you.”

“All right.  She knows you and that will do,” said Mr. Brown.

Kitty, with the light of an explorer in her eyes, was making new discoveries on the shelves, and the two men walked to the back of the shop where the shopkeeper wrote a list of names.  Then Livingstone and Kitty got into the sleigh and drove for a half-hour or so.

On their return Mr. Brown was ready.