he dealer in curiosities did,
in these four words. I waited for him to speak again, but he rested his
chin upon his hand and shaking his head twice or thrice fixed his eyes
upon the fire.

While we were sitting thus in silence, the door of the closet opened,
and the child returned, her light brown hair hanging loose about her
neck, and her face flushed with the haste she had made to rejoin us.
She busied herself immediately in preparing supper, and while she was
thus engaged I remarked that the old man took an opportunity of
observing me more closely than he had done yet. I was surprised to see
that all this time everything was done by the child, and that there
appeared to be no other persons but ourselves in the house. I took
advantage of a moment when she was absent to venture a hint on this
point, to which the old man replied that there were few grown persons
as trustworthy or as careful as she.

'It always grieves me,' I observed, roused by what I took to be his
selfishness, 'it always grieves me to contemplate the initiation of
children into the ways of life, when they are scarcely more than
infants. It checks their confidence and simplicity--two of the best
qualities that Heaven gives them--and demands that they share our
sorrows before they are capable of entering into our enjoyments.'

'It will never check hers,' said the old man looking steadily at me,
'the springs are too deep. Besides, the children of the poor know but
few pleasures. Even the cheap delights of childhood must be bought and
paid for.

'But--forgive me for saying this--you are surely not so very
poor'--said I.

'She is not my child, sir,' returned the old man. 'Her mother was, and
she was poor. I save nothing--not a penny--though I live as you see,
but'--he laid his hand upon my arm and leant forward to whisper--'she
shall be rich one of these days, and a fine lady. Don't you think ill
of me because I use her help. She gives it cheerfully as you see, and
it would break her heart if she knew that I suffered anybody else to do
for me what her little hands could undertake. I don't consider!'--he
cried with sudden querulousness, 'why, God knows that this one child is
there thought and object of my life, and yet he never prospers me--no,
never!'

At this juncture, the subject of our conversation again returned, and
the old men motioning to me to approach the table, broke off, and said
no more.

We had scarcely begun our repast when there wa