the
deacon, "when you hatched up that wonderful plan on the spur of the
moment, and tried it out on him. But for that, Hugh, he'd now be
locked up with his former mates, and headed for the Reform School at
full speed. As it is, he is free to walk the streets, and already
beginning to win the confidence of many good people in the town."

Ten minutes afterwards and the brawny smith threw his hammer aside,
and commenced to undo the thongs that fastened his leathern apron
about his loins.

"I've finished my stint, lad," he said; "and now we can go into the
house, where you'll meet my better-half. I've told her so much about
you, she is eager to make your acquaintance. As for this fine, manly
little chap here, who seems to spring straight into my heart the more
I look at him, as if he belonged there, she'll be half-tickled to
death at the chance to cuddle him in her motherly arms. Alas! lad,
it's been many a long, weary year since she had the privilege of
loving a child of her own. Sometimes when I see her sitting there,
so quiet like, and looking into the wonderfully brilliant sunset
skies, I seem to know what she is thinking about, and I feel for her.
It's harder on a mother, than anyone else, to lose her child as we
did our poor, reckless boy."

Hugh felt a queer sensation in the region of his heart when he heard
the big man speak so mournfully. He realized then as never before
how the heart of a parent can never fully recover from a cruel shock,
such as the loss of one who as a little child had come, it was hoped,
as a ray of sunlight in the lives of those who loved him.

The home of the smith adjoined his shop. There was, in fact, a door
that connected them, and through this Deacon Winslow now led his
thrice welcome guests. Presently they found themselves in what
seemed to be a cozy little sitting-room, where a wood-fire blazed
cheerily on the hearth.

Seated in one of those invalid wheel-chairs, which can be so easily
manipulated by the occupant, after becoming expert at the job, was a
most benign-looking and motherly old lady, with snow-white hair, and
a face that was one of the sweetest and most patient Hugh had ever
gazed upon.

He knew instantly that he was going to like Mrs. Winslow just as much
as he did her big husband. All the good things he had heard about
her benevolence must then be true, he concluded, as he looked on her
smiling face.

"Mother, here's my friend, Hugh Morgan, come out to