“But ain’t I going home to-day, Mr. Sharp?” said he, with a sudden, despairing resolution, looking up with tearful eyes, as he spoke.

“What’s that?” eagerly asked Mrs. Sharp, coming forward.  “What’s that, ha?”

The frightened boy slunk back, and stood with his eyes upon the floor.

“Go where, did he say, Mr. Sharp?”

“Go to see his mammy, to be sure!” replied the hatter, in a half-sneering tone of surprise.

“His mammy, indeed!  And pray what put that into his head, I should like to know?”

“Mr. Sharp told mother he would send me home to see her on New Year’s day,” the child ventured to says in explanation.

“Clear out!  Off with you, Mr. Assurance!” exclaimed Sharp, in an angry voice, at this, half raising his hand to strike the lad.  “How dare you!”

Henry started back trembling, at once conscious that all hope of seeing her he had so pined to meet for many long and weary days of suffering and privation, was at an end.  Slowly he left the house, shrinking in the cold blast, and went on his errand through the hard frozen snow.

“Did any one ever hear such impudence!” ejaculated Mrs. Sharp, in breathless surprise.  “Sent home on New Year’s day to his mammy!  A pretty how-do-you-do, upon my word! the dirty little ill-conditioned brat!”

“I believe, now I come to think of it,” said Sharp, “that I did say something of the kind to his mother, just to pacify her, though I had no thought of doing it; and, indeed, I don’t suppose she cares any great deal about seeing him.  She didn’t look as if she could keep soul and body together long.”

“If she wanted to see him so dreadful bad, why didn’t she keep him at home with her tied all the while to her apron string?” said the unfeeling woman.

“She would have had to work a little harder to have done that.  No doubt she was glad enough to get rid of the burden of supporting him.”

“Well, all that I can say is, that any mother who is not willing to work to take care of her children, don’t deserve to see them.”

“So say I,” returned the husband.

“And as to Henry’s going home, I wouldn’t hear to any such thing.  He’d not be a bit too good to trump up any kind of stories about not being treated well, so as to prevails upon her not to let him come back.  I know just how boys like him talk when they get a chance to run home.  Even when they do come back, they’re never worth a cent afterward.”

“Oh, no!  As to his going home, that is out of the question this winter,” replied Sharp.  “If his mother cares about seeing him, she’ll find her way out here.”

With a sadder heart than ever did poor Henry grope his way up into the cold garret that night, with but one thought and one image in his mind, the thought of home and the image of his mother.  He dreamed of her all night.  He was at home.  Her tender voice was in his ear, and his head rested on her bosom.  She clothed him in warmer garments, and set him beside her at the table, upon which was tempting food.  But morning came at last, and he was awakened from visions of delight to a more painful consciousness of his miserable condition by the sharp, chiding voice of his cruel mistress.  Slowly, with stiffened limbs and a reluctant heart did he arise, and enter upon the repulsive and hard duties of another day.