the written words of purest compassion; and in her innocent blue eyes
stood self-forgetful tears.

Even the boy Jerome, with the pride of poverty to which he had been
born and bred, like a bitter savor in his heart, stared at her a
moment, his eyes dilated, his mouth quivering, and half advanced his
hand to take the gift so sweetly offered. Then all at once the full
tide of self rushed over him with all its hard memories and
resolutions. His eyes gave out that black flash of wrath, which the
poor little Lucina had feared, yet braved and forgot through her fond
pity, he dashed out the back of his hand so roughly against that
small tender one that all the silver pieces were jostled out to the
floor, and rushed out of the door.

Squire Eben Merritt made an indignant exclamation and one threatening
stride after him, then stopped, and caught up the weeping little
Lucina, and sought to soothe her as best he might.

"Never mind, Pretty; never mind, Pretty," he said, rubbing his rough
face against her soft one, in a way which was used to make her laugh.
"Father 'll buy you a parrot that will talk the roof off."

"I don't--want a parrot, father," sobbed the little girl. "I want the
boy to have shoes."

"Summer is coming, Pretty," said Squire Eben, laughingly and
caressingly, "and a boy is better off without shoes than with them."

"He won't--have any--for next winter."