“He was at the door just now,” said William, as he looked up and down the street; “but he must have gone home with his chips, as I do not see him.”

“Very well,” was the answer, “send him to-morrow.”

A person entering now interrupted the conversation, and our hero departed on his way.  As he turned the corner he found little Ned, who, not yet tired of gathering sticks, was adding to the weight of his basket by some spoils from a lumber-yard.  He delivered the message from Professor Stewart, and having given him the shilling just received, he bade him buy bread for his grandmother, and once more set off at a round pace for home.

His steps were, however, not so rapid as to banish thought, and although he dreaded the reproach he would meet, when, if questioned, he should tell how he had disposed of the money, he never for a moment swerved from his determination to tell the whole truth, let the consequences be what they might.  He was not, however, so much taken up with his own affairs that he had no sympathy for others.  The figure of little Ned Graham, in his thin clothing, thankful for the slight warmth afforded by the worn linen trousers which left his meager limbs bare more than half way from the knee, came still between him and the dark shadows which his own trials cast upon his naturally bright and hoping spirit.  “I am wrong to be so depressed,” he said to himself; “we may see blessings in every lot, if we are willing to do so; and poor little Ned is as bright as a lark because he can get wood for the carrying, although he was shivering with cold, and his face looked pinched as if he were only half fed.  Stay; let me see; I wonder if I cannot make some sort of shoes for him!  There is a pile of old boots and shoes in the back shop, which Mr. Walters said were not worth mending, and he would have carted away.  I will ask him about them, and if he has no use for the things, I will make a pair out of the best of them.”

There is no better cure for our selfish sorrow than to plan or execute something to alleviate the sufferings of others, and now the impulsive and naturally energetic spirit of our little shoemaker experienced a sudden rebound at the prospect of what he could do, which beguiled him back to at least comparative happiness, and lightened for a time his bondage of depression.

Smile not, dear young reader, that the task was so easily accomplished.  It costs but little to bestow happiness or comfort on another; but small as is the outlay, nothing brings better interest, as our poor hero experienced in the sunshine poured in so suddenly on his lately clouded spirit.