"Do you know what Beckey Cross said about him? She said that he was
nothing but skin and grief, and that he never made any shadow. But
poor Scrimp, though he is such a miser, has a heart, and can do a
very kind thing."

"How did you find out that, Miss Dolly?" said the rosy-cheeked girl.
"Did he ever ask you to take care of his heart? if such a thing
could be found. Perhaps it is your fault that poor Scrimp is nothing
but skin and grief."

Miss Dolly drew herself up, and looked in a very dignified manner at
the young village belle. "I never kept company with Mr. Scrimp, and
never should wish to with such a thread paper of a man as him; but I
stick to it, he has a heart, and I'll tell you how I diskivered it.
You know poor Mrs. Fowler, whose house is just out of the town, near
two miles from old Scrimp's. I was there to see the poor woman the
other day. You know her husband was killed last winter by the
falling of a tree before the woodcutters thought it was ready to
fall. You know she has one little boy, who she sets every thing by,
and they are pretty poor, though the parish does help them.

I sat with her some time, and heard all her troubles and
misfortings. At last, she spoke of all the kind things she'd had
done for her by different people; among others, she told me of a
kind act of old Scrimp's.

"One day," says she, "my little boy, only four years old, did not,
as usual, come in at supper time. I went out to look for him in the
wood where he goes to play; but he was not there. Night came on, and
no Willie. I was half crazy with fear. I was at my wits' ends. I had