"If possible," said the cooper, laughing.

"Is there any tenement vacant in this neighborhood?" asked Mrs. Harding.

"Yes, there is one in the next block belonging to Mr. Harrison."

"It is a better one than this."

"Yes; but Harrison only asks the same rent that we have been paying. He is not so exorbitant as Colman."

"Couldn't we get that?"

"I am afraid if he knows that we have failed to pay our rent here, that he will object."

"But he knows you are honest, and that nothing but the hard times would have brought you to this pa.s.s."

"It may be, Martha. At any rate, you have lightened my heart a little. I feel as if there was some hope left, after all."

"We ought always to feel so, Timothy. There was one thing that Mr.

Colman said that didn't sound so well, coming from his lips; but it's true for all that."

"What do you refer to?"

"I mean that about not distrusting Providence. Many a time have I been comforted by reading the verse: 'Never have I seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.' As long as we try to do what is right, Timothy, G.o.d will not suffer us to want."

"You are right, Martha. He is our ever-present help in time of trouble.

When I think of that, I feel easier."

They retired to rest thoughtfully but not sadly.

The fire upon the hearth flickered and died out at length. The last sands of the old year were running out, and the new morning ushered in its successor.

CHAPTER VII

THE NEW YEAR'S GIFT

"Happy New Year!" was Jack's salutation to Aunt Rachel, as with an unhappy expression of countenance she entered the sitting room.

"Happy, indeed!" she repeated, dismally. "There's great chance of its being so, I should think. We don't any of us know what the year may bring forth. We may all be dead and buried before the next new year."

"If that's the case," said Jack, "let us be jolly as long as life lasts."

"I don't know what you mean by such a vulgar word," said Aunt Rachel, disdainfully. "I've heard of drunkards and such kind of people being jolly; but, thank Providence, I haven't got to that yet."

"If that was the only way to be jolly," said Jack, stoutly, "then I'd be a drunkard; I wouldn't carry round such a long face as you do, Aunt Rachel, for any money."

"It's enough to make all of us have long faces," said his aunt, sourly, "when you are brazen enough to own that you mean to be a miserable drunkard."

"I didn't say any such thing," said Jack, indignantly.

"Perhaps I have ears," remarked Aunt Rachel, sententiously, "and perhaps I have not. It's a new thing for a nephew to tell his aunt that she lies. They didn't use to allow such things when I was young. But the world's going to rack and ruin, and I shouldn't wonder if the people was right that say it's coming to an end."

Here Mrs. Harding happily interposed, by asking Jack to go round to the grocery in the next street, and buy a pint of milk for breakfast.

Jack took his hat and started with alacrity, glad to leave the dismal presence of Aunt Rachel.

He had scarcely opened the door when he started back in surprise, exclaiming: "By hokey, if there isn't a basket on the steps!"

"A basket!" repeated his mother, in surprise. "Can it be a New Year's present? Bring it in, Jack."

It was brought in immediately, and the cover being lifted, there appeared a female child, apparently a year old.

All uttered exclamations of surprise, each in itself characteristic.

"What a dear, innocent little thing!" said Mrs. Harding, with true maternal instinct.

"Ain't it a pretty un?" exclaimed Jack, admiringly.

"It looks as if it was goin' to have the measles," said Aunt Rachel, "or scarlet fever. You'd better not take it in, Martha, or we may all catch it."

"You wouldn't leave it out in the cold, would you, Rachel? The poor thing might die of exposure."

"Probably it will die," said Rachel, mournfully. "It's very hard to raise children. There's something unhealthy in its looks."

"It don't seem to me so. It looks plump and healthy."

"You can't never judge by appearances. You ought to know that, Martha."

"I will take the risk, Rachel."

"I don't see what you are going to do with a baby, when we are all on the verge of starvation, and going to be turned into the street this very day," remarked Rachel, despondently.

"We won't think of that just now. Common humanity requires us to see what we can do for the poor child."

So saying, Mrs. Harding took the infant in her arms. The child opened its eyes, and smiled.

"My! here's a letter," said Jack, diving into the bottom of the basket.

"It's directed to you, father."

The cooper opened the letter, and read as follows:

"For reasons which it is unnecessary to state, the guardians of this child find it expedient to intrust it to others to bring up. The good account which they have heard of you has led them to select you for that charge. No further explanation is necessary, except that it is by no means their intention to make this a service of charity. They, therefore, inclose a certificate of deposit on the Broadway Bank of five hundred dollars, the same having been paid in to your credit. Each year, while the child remains in your charge, the same will in like manner be placed to your credit at the same bank. It may be as well to state, further, that all attempt to fathom whatever of mystery may attach to this affair will prove useless."

The letter was read in amazement. The certificate of deposit, which had fallen to the floor, was picked up by Jack, and handed to his father.

Amazement was followed by a feeling of grat.i.tude and relief.