g them outside.

"Nobody's takin' care on 'im, ma'am," replied Martha, somewhat shyly.
"I locked 'im in, an' he's takin' care of hisself."

"Would you like to give grandfather anything in particular, little
woman, if a fairy were to offer to give it you?"

"Oh, wouldn't I just?"

"Yes? What would you ask for?"

Martha pursed her little mouth and knitted her brows in thought for a
minute. Then she said slowly, "I'd ask for a mug of hot soup, an' a
blanket, an' some coals, and--oh! I forgot, a teapot, for ours is
cracked an' won't 'old in now."

"Do you live far from this hall?" asked Tom.

"No, sir, quite close."

"Come, Matty, you and I will go with this little one and see
grandfather. What is your name, child?"

"Martha Burns, sir."

"Well, Martha, give me your hand, and come along."

They were soon in the shabby little room,--for Martha was eager to give
the food to the old man. Of course Jack Frost and Sons were still in
possession, but there had come another visitor during the child's
absence, whom they were scarce prepared to meet.

Death sat beside the lowly bed. He had not yet laid his hand on his
victim, but his chill presence was evidently felt.

"Darling, I'm glad you've come," said the old man, faintly. "I've been
longing so for you. Give me your hand, dear. I'm so cold--so cold."

He shivered as he spoke until the miserable bed shook. Poor Martha
forgot the food in her anxiety, for a striking change had come over
gran'father--such as she had never seen before. She took his thin hand
in hers, and began to weep softly.

But Matilda Westlake did not forget the food. She took up the tin can
in which it had been brought there, and poured some of the still warm
contents into a cracked soup plate that stood on the table. Finding a
pewter spoon, she at once put her hand under the pillow, and raising the
old man's head gently, began to feed him like a child. Meanwhile Tom
Westlake took off his thick overcoat and spread it over the bed. Then
he went out, bought some sticks and coal from a neighbour, and,
returning, soon kindled a fire in the rusty grate.

The old man did not seem surprised. His face wore a dazed, yet
thoroughly pleased, look as he quietly accepted these attentions. All
the time he kept fast hold of Martha's hand, and smiled to her once or
twice. It was evident that he relished the soup. Only once he broke
silence to thank them and say, "Jesus sent you, I suppose?