is heart--for he had a heart,
and a warm one too--was touched, and his hand went to the waistcoat
pocket where the sixpence had been deposited in the morning. He was
disappointed to find so little there, and wondered whether it was worth
giving her. "If Ellen were here to add some of her 'kind words,'" he
thought, it might do very well; "however, I'll try."

Next time Mrs. Tourtel stopped to take breath he went and stood by the
poor girl, and said,--

"Miss Crawford is ill too and cannot come to see you, but she often
thinks of you. Perhaps this will buy you a small loaf of white bread, as
your mother says you cannot eat brown."

She only said, "_Mercie, monsieur_;" but the bright colour, which spread
itself over her pale face at the mention of Ellen's thought of her, told
Edward that he had said the right thing; and with a gentle "Good-by, I
hope you will soon be better," he left the cottage. He walked fast with
his head bent, as if to hide his face; but we must run after him, and
have a peep at it. He is smiling, and--can it be?--he is blushing!
Captain Crawford, who never turned pale before the Russians at Alma or
Inkermann, is now blushing scarlet before his own approving conscience
and the gratitude of a sick girl. The smile and blush were not gone when
he reached home, and Ellen saw both and smiled too, but wisely said
nothing. The ice on Edward's heart was broken; a few "kind words" had
flowed out and melted it. He went to sleep that night, and dreamed that
angels were saying "kind words" to him; Ellen went to sleep, too, and
dreamed of her brother reading the Bible to the dying on a battle-field;
and the sick girl lay awake all night, thinking how good it was of Miss
Crawford to think of her, and how good of the Captain to tell her so.

The Sixpence had done a good day's work; had a shilling been in its
place, it would probably have failed in accomplishing it; and Captain
Crawford, thinking money the best way to the heart of the poor, would
never have tasted the joy of soothing sad hearts by kindness. Alas!
little Sixpence, that you who have been such a blessing to-day, should
become a curse to-morrow; that you who have gone forth on errands of
mercy to-day, should dwell in scenes of drunkenness and theft to-morrow!

Early next morning Mrs. Tourtel went to market, and left the Sixpence
at a baker's shop in payment for a white loaf for her daughter. There it
spent the day--a quiet day--broken by few events. I