That evening there was to be at this house a large party.  Extra servants had been employed that day, and all was bustle and preparation.

“Sarah,” called the lady, a few minutes after, to her housekeeper—­“Sarah, Dr. H—­was here just now, and said that the poor woman who lives next door is sick and out of fuel.  Tell John to take her in an armful of wood, and do you just step in and see what more she is in want of.”

“Yes, ma’am,” responds Sarah, and muttering to herself some dissatisfaction at the order, descends to the kitchen, and addresses a sable man-servant, and kind of doer-of-all-work-in-general, in doors and out,

“John, Mrs.—­says you must take an armful of wood in to Mrs. Warrington; I believe that is the woman’s name who lives next door.”

“Who? de woman whose husband in de (sic) Penetentiary?”

“Yes, that’s the one, John.”

“Don’t love to meddle wid dem guess sort of folks, Miss Sarah.  ’Druder not be gwine in dere,” responds the black, with a broad grin at his own humour.

“Well, I don’t care whether you do or not,” responds Sarah, and glides swiftly away, satisfied to do one part of her order and forget the other, which related to her going in to see the poor woman herself.  Mrs.—­shifted off the duty on her housekeeper, and she contented herself by forgetting it.

Little William, who was present with his mother when the doctor called, was, like all children, a true republican, and had often played with the child of the sick woman.  He had seen his little playmate but a few times since the cold weather set in; but had all his sympathies aroused, at the doctor’s recital.  Being rather more suspicious of the housekeeper than his mother, and no doubt for good reasons best known to himself, he followed on to the kitchen, and was an ear-witness to what passed between John and the sub-mistress of the mansion.

“Come, John, now that’s a good fellow,” said he to the negro, after the housekeeper had retired, “take in some wood to poor Mrs. Warburton.”

“’Fraid, Massa Billy, ’deed.  ’Fraid of (sic) penetentiary—­ha! ha!! ha!!!”

“She can’t help that, though, John.  So come along, and take the wood in.”

“’Fraid, i’deed, Massa Billy.”

“Well, if you don’t, I’ll take it in myself, and dirty all my clothes, and then somebody will find it out, without my turning tell-tale.”

John grinned a broad smile, and forthwith, finding himself outwitted, carried in the wood, and left it in the middle of the floor, without saying a word.

Towards evening, just before the company assembled, little William, not at all disposed to forget, as every one else had done, the poor sufferers next door, went to the housekeeper’s room, where she was busy as a bee with preparations for the party, and stationed himself in the door, accosted her with—­

“Miss Sarah, have you been in to see Mrs. Warburton, as ma told you, to-day?”