do it for that,' said Paul, putting it aside.

'Then you must have some supper, that I declare.'

And she brought out a slice of cold bacon, and some bread, and warmed
some beer at the fire. She would go without bacon and beer herself to-
morrow, but that was nothing to her. It was a real pleasure to see the
colour come into Paul's bony yellow cheeks at the hearty meal, which he
could not refuse; but he did not speak much, for he was tired out, and
the fire and the beer were making him very sleepy.

Alfred rapped above with the stick that served as a bell. It was to beg
that Paul would come and be thanked; and though Mrs. King was a little
afraid of the experiment, she did ask him to walk up for a moment.

Grunt went he, and in rather an unmannerly way, he said, 'I'd rather
not.'

'Pray do,' said Mrs. King; 'I don't think Alfred will sleep easy without
saying thank you.'

So Paul complied, and in a most ungainly fashion clumped up-stairs and
stood at the door. He had not forgotten his last reception, and would
not come a step farther, though Alfred stretched out his hand and begged
him to come in.

Alfred could say only 'Thank you, I never thought any one would be so
kind.'

And Paul made gruff reply, 'Ye're very welcome,' turned about as if he
were running away, and tumbled down-stairs, and out of the house, without
even answering Mrs. King's 'Good-night.'

Harold had wakened at the sounds. He heard all, but he chose to seem to
be asleep, and, would you believe it? he was only the more provoked!
Paul's exertion made his neglect seem all the worse, and he was
positively angry with him for 'going and meddling, and poking his nose
where he'd no concern. Now he shouldn't be able to get the stuff
to-morrow, and so make it up; and of course mother would go and dock
Paul's supper out of his dinner!'

If such reflections were going on upon one side of the partition, there
were very different thoughts upon the other. The stranger's kindness had
done more than relieve Alfred's pain: the warm sense of thankfulness had
softened his spirit, and carried off his selfish fit. He knew not how
kind people were to him, and how ungrateful he had been to punish his
innocent mother and sister, and so much to magnify a bit of
thoughtlessness on Harold's part; to be angry with his mother for not
driving him out when she thought it might endanger his health and life,
and to say such cruel things on purpose to wound her. A