'No, Harry, she is one of the thoughtless ones mother tells us so much
about. If you had seen her when she gave me this money,' putting the
silver piece into her brother's hand, 'you would never call her
unfeeling.'

'Did you tease her for it?'

'No, I didn't ask her again, for I did feel a little vexed--yes, a good
deal so, at first, but, Harry, I don't feel vexed now, I am sorry for
her. There was a tear in her eye, I am pretty sure, though she was
ashamed to have me see it, and her lips quivered, and she looked--oh, so
sad, when she told me her mother was dead; I wish you could have seen
her, Harry.'

'I would rather not see her again, for I can't bear proud people--'
Effie was about interrupting her brother in defence of the little
stranger girl, but at that moment a new object attracted their
attention. It was a fine sleigh drawn by a pair of beautiful gray
horses, that, with proudly arched neck and flowing mane, stepped
daintily, as if perfectly aware of the fact that they were gentlemen's
horses, and carried as fashionable a load as New York afforded. A little
girl leaned quite over the side of the sleigh, and smiled and nodded to
Effie, then waving her handkerchief, to attract still more attention,
dropped something upon the ground. It was the child they had seen at the
toy-shop. Harry flew to pick up the offering, and gave it to his sister.

'Now, what do you think of her?' inquired Effie, as her eye lighted on
the self-same purse she had seen but a little while before; 'I knew she
must be kind-hearted--did you ever see anything so generous? Here is
ever so much money, and all for the poor woman and her sick baby--why