“I should have thought of this before,” remarked Andrew Lyon.  “There are hundreds of people who are willing enough to give if they were only certain in regard to the object.  Here is one worthy enough in every way.  Be it my business to present her claims to benevolent consideration.  Let me see.  To whom shall I go?  There are Jones, and Green, and Tompkins.  I can get a dollar from each of them.  That will be three dollars—­and one from myself, will make four.  Who else is there?  Oh!  Malcolm!  I’m sure of a dollar from him; and, also, from Smith, Todd, and Perry.”

Confident in the success of his benevolent scheme, Mr. Lyon started forth, early on the very next day, for the purpose of obtaining, by subscription, the poor widow’s rent.  The first person he called on was Malcolm.

“Ah, friend Lyon,” said Malcolm, smiling blandly.  “Good morning!  What can I do for you to-day?”

“Nothing for me, but something for a poor widow, who is behind with her rent,” replied Andrew Lyon.  “I want just one dollar from you, and as much more from some eight or nine as benevolent as yourself.”

At the words “poor widow,” the countenance of Malcolm fell, and when his visiter ceased, he replied in a changed and husky voice, clearing his throat two or three times as he spoke,

“Are you sure she is deserving, Mr. Lyon?” The man’s manner had become exceedingly grave.

“None more so,” was the prompt answer.  “She is in poor health, and has three children to support with the product of her needle.  If any one needs assistance it is Mrs. Arnold.”

“Oh! ah!  The widow of Jacob Arnold.”

“The same,” replied Andrew Lyon.

Malcolm’s face did not brighten with a feeling of heart-warm benevolence.  But, he turned slowly away, and opening his money-drawer, very slowly, toyed with his fingers amid its contents.  At length he took therefrom a dollar bill, and said, as he presented it to Lyon,—­sighing involuntarily as he did so—­

“I suppose I must do my part.  But, we are called upon so often.”

The ardor of Andrew Lyon’s benevolent feelings suddenly cooled at this unexpected reception.  He had entered upon his work under the glow of a pure enthusiasm; anticipating a hearty response the moment his errand was made known.

“I thank you in the widow’s name,” said he, as he took the dollar.  When he turned from Mr. Malcolm’s store, it was with a pressure on his feelings, as if he had asked the coldly-given favor for himself.

It was not without an effort that Lyon compelled himself to call upon Mr. Green, considered the “next best man” on his list.  But he entered his place of business with far less confidence than he had felt when calling upon Malcolm.  His story told, Green without a word or smile, drew two half dollars from his pocket, and presented them.

“Thank you,” said Lyon.

“Welcome,” returned Green.