done one thing worth telling ever since we met last But I am proud of that."
"What was it? What was it?" rose from twenty voices.
" I crept into a dining room, one twilight,-soon after Christmas-day. I had been drawn thither by the glow of a bright fire shining through red Window-curtains. At first I thought there was no one there, and was on the point of leaving the room and going out again into the snowy street, when I suddenly caught the sparkle of eyes. 1 found that they belonged to a little boy who lay very still on a sofa. I crept into a dark corner by the sideboard, and watched him. He seemed very sad, and did nothing but stare into the fire. At last he sighed out;—'I wish mamma would come home.' ' Poor boy!' thought I, ' there is no help for that but mamma.1 Yet I would try to while away the time for him. So out of my