Mr. Easy felt disturbed at this intrusion, for so he felt it.  He knew the lad to be the son of a poor widow, who had once seen better circumstances than those that now surrounded her.  Her husband had, while living, been his intimate friend, and he had promised him at his dying hour to be the protector and adviser of his wife and children.  He had meant to do all he promised, but not being very fond of trouble, except where stimulated to activity by the hope of gaining some good for himself, he had not been as thoughtful in regard to Mrs. Mayberry as he ought to have been.  She was a modest, shrinking, sensitive woman, and had, notwithstanding her need of a friend and adviser, never called upon Mr. Easy, or even sent to request him to act for her in any thing, except once.  Her husband had left her poor.  She knew little of the world.  She had three quite young children, and one, the oldest, about sixteen.  Had Mr. Easy been true to his pledge, he might have thrown many a ray upon her dark path, and lightened her burdened heart of many a doubt and fear.  But he had permitted more than a year to pass since the death of her husband, without having once called upon her.  This neglect had not been intentional.  His will was good but never active at the present moment.  “To-morrow,” or “next week,” or “very soon,” he would call upon Mrs. Mayberry; but to-morrow, or next week, or very soon, had never yet come.

As for the widow, soon after her husband’s death, she found that poverty was to be added to affliction.  A few hundred dollars made up the sum of all that she received after the settlement of his business, which had never been in a very prosperous condition.  On this, under the exercise of extreme frugality, she had been enabled to live for nearly a year.  Then the paucity of her little store made it apparent to her mind that individual exertion was required, directed toward procuring the means of support for her little family.  Ignorant of the way in which this was to be done, and having no one to advise her, nearly two months more passed before she could determine what to do.  By that time she had but a few dollars left, and was in a state of great mental distress and uncertainty.  She then applied for work at some of the shops, and obtained common sewing, but at prices that could not yield her any thing like a support.

Hiram, her oldest son, had been kept at school up to this period.  But now she had to withdraw him.  It was impossible any longer to pay his tuition fees.  He was an intelligent lad—­active in mind, and pure in his moral principles.  But like his mother, sensitive, and inclined to avoid observation.  Like her, too, he had a proud independence of feeling, that made him shrink from asking or accepting a favor, or putting himself under an obligation to any one.  He first became aware of his mother’s true condition, when she took him from school, and explained the reason for so doing.  At once his mind rose into the determination to do something to aid his mother.  He felt a glowing confidence, arising from the consciousness of strength within.  He felt that he had both the will and the power to act, and to act efficiently.