looked on when he was setting these very doors."

"What is his name?" asked Aunt Madge, looking very much interested, and
taking out her note-book and pencil. "What street and number?"

"Cyrus Brooks, Number Blank, Blank Street, ma'am. Before the accident,
we lived on Thirty-third Street, in very good shape; but, little by
little, we were obliged to sell off, and finally had to move into pretty
snug quarters. But we've always got enough to eat, such as it was,"
added the good woman, trying not to show much she enjoyed her lunch.

"I am very glad Providence has sent you here, Mrs. Brooks," said Aunt
Madge, warmly. "I know Colonel Allen will seek you out when he comes
home next week; but I shall not wait for that; I shall write him this
very night."

Mrs. Brooks' heart was so full that she had to cry into a coarse purple
handkerchief of Bennie's, which happened to be in her pocket, and felt
very much ashamed because she could not find her voice again, or any
words in which to tell her gratitude. It was just as well, though. Mrs.
Allen knew words were not everything. It gave her pleasure to fill a
huge basket with nice things--wine and jelly for the sick man, plain
food for the family, and a pretty woolen dress for Maria, which had been
intended for Mrs. Fixfax, the housekeeper.

The children looked on delighted, while the basket was filled with
these articles, then passed over to Nathaniel, who was going home with
Mrs. Brooks. It was amusing to watch Nathaniel, with the monstrous
burden in his hands trying to help Mrs. Brooks down the front steps; for
Aunt Madge was not enough of a fine lady to send the pair around by the