she went to a closet, found a basket, in which she placed a snowy
napkin, some biscuit, some cold chicken, and a few delicious little
cakes. In her pocket she put a little flask of some strong cordial she
had found of service on her many errands of charity.

How proud Joe was to be her escort! but how meekly he walked behind the
lady whose footsteps he thought were those of a real gentlewoman, the
only one to whom he would accord this compliment, although he passed
many elegant dames in gay attire.

The little gray figure, with its neat, quiet simplicity, was his
embodiment of elegance, for somehow Joe had detected the delicate
perfume of a sweet nature and a loving heart--a heart full of Christian
charity and unselfishness.

They walked for some distance, and the day was so warm that Miss
Schuyler moderated her usual rapid pace to suit the old man's feebler
steps. Off the Avenue a long way, up another, down a side street, until,
amid a crowded, disagreeable neighborhood, Joe stopped.

"You had better lead me still, Joe. The boy might be frightened or
annoyed at seeing a stranger: I dare say he's nervous. Go up, and I will
wait outside the door while you ask him if I may come and see him. Wait,
there's a flower-stall a little way from here; I will get a bunch. Take
my basket, and I will be back in a few moments. I am glad I thought of
the flowers; children always like them."

She hastened off, while Joe leaned on his cane and muttered blessings
upon her; but some rude boys beginning to chaff him, he turned on them
with his usual crustiness, and quite forgot his beatitudes.

Miss Schuyler came back in a few minutes with a lovely bunch of bright
blossoms embosomed in geranium leaves.

"Now, then, Joe, this shall be my card; take it in, and tell Phil I am
coming."

"God bless you, Miss Rachel!" was all Joe could reply.

Miss Rachel had her own way of doing things. It was nothing new for her
to carry flowers and dainties to the sick poor. She had been much with
sick people, and she knew that those who have no luxuries and few
necessaries care for the things which do not really sustain life quite
as much as do those who can command both.

CHAPTER III

PHIL HAS A VISITOR

Phil was alone, as indeed he was always, except on Sundays, or the few
half-holidays that came to Lisa. Once in a while Lisa begged off, or
paid another woman for doing an extra share of work in her place, if
Phil was really too ill f