“And I shall have to do without my new shoes.  My old ones are too shabby to go to church in; so I shall have to stay at home.”

“I am sorry for your disappointment, my child, but I care more for Mrs. Carr than I do for ourselves.  She has been here, and is in a great deal of trouble.  The doctor don’t think Annie will live till morning, and Mrs. Owrings hag refused to give Mary more than three dollars for her month’s work, every cent of which old Grimes took for rent.  I told her she might depend on getting what I owed her, and that I would send you over with it when you returned.  You had better go at once and tell her, Laura; perhaps she may be able to get some elsewhere.”

“How much is it, mother?”

“Half a dollar.”

“It seems hard that she can’t get that small sum.”

With a heavy heart Laura entered Mrs. Carr’s humble abode.

“Oh how glad I am that you have come, my dear!” exclaimed the poor woman.  “Annie has been craving some ice cream all day; it’s the only thing she seems to fancy.  I told her she should have it as soon as you came.”

Mrs. Carr’s eyes filled with tears as Laura told of her ill success.  “I care not for myself,” she said “but for that poor suffering child.”

“Never mind me, mother,” replied Annie.  “It was selfish in me to want it, when I know how hard you and Mary are obliged to work for every cent you get.  But I feel that I shall not bother you much longer; I have a strange feeling here now.”  And she placed her hand upon her left side.

“Stop!” cried Laura; “I’ll try and get some ice cream for you Annie.”  And off she ran to her mother’s dwelling.  “Mother,” said she, as she entered the house, “do you recollect that half dollar father gave me the last time he went to sea?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Well, I think I had better take it and pay Mrs. Carr.  Annie is very bad, and her mother says she has been wanting some ice cream all day.”

“It is yours, Laura, do as you like about it.”

“It goes hard with me to part with it, mother, for I had determined to keep it in remembrance of my father.  It is just twelve years to-day since he went away.  But poor Annie—­yes, mother, I will take it.”

So saying, Laura went to unlock the box which contained her treasure, but unfortunately her key was not where she had supposed it was.  After a half hour’s search she succeeded in finding it.  Tears coursed down her cheeks like rain as she removed from the corner of the little box, where it had lain for so many years, this precious relic of a dear father, who in all probability, was buried beneath the ocean.  Dashing them hastily away, she started again for Mrs. Carr’s.  The ice cream was procured on the way, and, just as the clock struck eight, she arrived at the door.  One hour has elapsed since she left.  But why does she linger on the threshold?  Why but because the sounds of weeping and mourning have