dreadful, do you?"

Sara did not know. Just then the usual sweetness of her nature seemed
turning to gall. If she could have put her thoughts into words, she
would have said it seemed as if some awful Thing, instead of the God of
love, sat up aloft mocking at her wretchedness; and she felt for the
instant, as she crossed the floor after the old broom, an impotent rage,
almost scorn, of this mighty power which could stoop to deal such
malignant blows against a helpless girl.

It was but a moment,--one of those fierce, instantaneous rebellions of
the natural heart, which overcome us all at times of utter
wretchedness,--then, just as she laid hands on the broom, there came a
cry, a choked, wondering cry from Morton,--"Sara! O Sara!"

She turned; what now?

The boy, in removing the larger fragments of the glass from the boards
at the back of the frame, had come across something slipped in between,
and now held it up with shaking hands and shining eyes. It was a neat
pile of greenbacks, laid out straight and trim, with a paper band pinned
around them. Sara looked, comprehended, and felt like falling on her
knees in repentant gratitude!

But, instead, she sprang towards him, and caught the package from his
hands. Twice she counted it; could it be possible? Here were three
hundred dollars; a sum that seemed like a fortune to the girl.

Three hundred dollars between them and suffering; and the Thing up aloft
became instantly a Friend, a Father, and a God!