have some more money."

Perhaps Mrs. Kent thought it singular that a young girl, like Fanny,
should happen to have so much money about her, but she did not ask any
questions; and perhaps she did not think that one who had been so kind
to her could do anything wrong.

"Now, you will come into the house and see poor Jenny. She will want to
thank you for what you have done," said Mrs. Kent, leading the way to
the door.

Fanny could not refuse this reasonable request, but she felt very
strangely. She found herself commended and reverenced for what she had
done, and she could not help feeling how unworthy she was. Conscious
that she had performed a really good deed, she could not reconcile it
with her past conduct. It was utterly inconsistent with the base act
she had done in the morning; and in the light of one deed the other
seemed so monstrous that she almost loathed herself.

She followed Mrs. Kent into the room where the sick girl was reclining
upon the bed. There was no carpet on the floor, and the apartment was
very meagerly furnished with the rudest and coarsest articles. Jenny
was pale and emaciated; the hand of death seemed to be already upon
her; but in spite of her paleness and her emaciation, there was
something beautiful in her face; something in the expression of her
languid eyes which riveted the attention and challenged the interest of
the visitor.

"Jenny, this is the young lady whom God has sent to be our friend,"
said Mrs. Kent, as they approached the bedside.

Fanny shuddered. "Whom God had sent"--she, a thief! She wanted to cry;
she wanted to shrink back into herself.

"May I take your hand?" asked Jenny, in feeble tones.

Fanny complied with the request in silence, and with her eyes fixed on
the floor. The sick girl took the offered hand in her own, which was
almost as cold as marble.

"Mother has prayed to Our Good Father, and I have prayed to Him all the
time for help," said Jenny, whose accents were hardly above a whisper.
"He has sent you to us, and you have saved us. Will you tell me your
name?"

"Fanny Grant."

"Fanny, I am going to heaven soon, and I will bear your name in my
heart when I go. I will bless you for your good deed while I have
breath, and I will bless you when I get to heaven. You are a good girl,
and I know that God will bless you too."

Poor Fanny! How mean she felt! As she stood in the presence of that
pure-minded child, already an angel in simple trust and confi