Taking a seat in the unlighted shop, the lad looked through the open door on the passers-by, and his heart grew sad at the thought, that among them all there was no one who cared for him.  Naturally of a gentle and loving spirit, he longed for suitable companionship on which he might lavish his wealth; but, except the Burtons, with whom he could spend but little time, there was no one from whose influence gleams of sunshine could steal in upon his heart and cheer its desolation.  “I have always heard it said,” was his musing thought, “that if one were kind and affectionate, he would be sure to receive love in return.  I do all I can to please Mr. and Mrs. Walters, but I am certain I shall never be able to win their love, and I am so lonesome.”

By this time the twilight had deepened almost into night, rendering objects nearly indistinct.  The passing crowd had gradually grown less, but our hero neither noticed the increasing gloom nor the comparative quiet of the street, until aroused by the sound of music.  Some German street musicians still abroad were playing the sweet and touching air, “Why, O why, my heart, this sadness?” and the sounds awoke a different train of meditation.  How often had he heard that strain at home, and now, how vividly the happy scenes of the once happy times enjoyed there came up before him!  The poverty, privation, toil, and sorrow borne there, lost half their magnitude; every joy was reflected back ten-fold.  He felt as does some sailor on a stormy sea, and looked back to its shelter from the jealousies, trials, and turmoils of the world, as the storm-tossed mariner would have regarded the quiet haven he had left for ever; the recollection of all that had once been his within those humble walls was too much for his lately acquired heroism; the long-sealed fountain was opened, and he wept as he had not done for many months.

It was not until the music died faintly down the long street that he recovered his calmness.  The tears, however, had proved salutary; and when he wiped them away he felt but the more resolute in his determination to do right, let the sacrifice cost what it might, than ever.  “I will be contented,” was his mental resolve, “I will endeavour to grow up good and useful, trying to fulfil worthily the duties required by my heavenly Father.  I have murmured much; a good, faithful servant does his master’s will cheerfully, but I have not done so.”

Something rubbing against his feet disturbed his train of thought.  What could it be?  He looked down to discover, and in the dim and uncertain light saw a small object moving about on the floor.  Again it came near:  first a gentle mewing, then a low purring sound was heard; and next, something, which he knew at once was a kitten, jumped up into his lap, and, as if glad to have found a resting-place, nestled down to take a comfortable nap.