sharp jerks, in unison with the sound. The door was thrust open,
although no human form was perceptible on the other side of the
half-window. Hepzibah, nevertheless, stood at a gaze, with her
hands clasped, looking very much as if she had summoned up an evil
spirit, and were afraid, yet resolved, to hazard the encounter.

"Heaven help me!" she groaned mentally. "Now is my hour of need!"

The door, which moved with difficulty on its creaking and rusty
hinges, being forced quite open, a square and sturdy little urchin
became apparent, with cheeks as red as an apple. He was clad
rather shabbily (but, as it seemed, more owing to his mother's
carelessness than his father's poverty), in a blue apron, very
wide and short trousers, shoes somewhat out at the toes, and a
chip hat, with the frizzles of his curly hair sticking through
its crevices. A book and a small slate, under his arm, indicated
that he was on his way to school. He stared at Hepzibah a moment,
as an elder customer than himself would have been likely enough
to do, not knowing what to make of the tragic attitude and queer
scowl wherewith she regarded him.

"Well, child," said she, taking heart at sight of a personage so
little formidable,--"well, my child, what did you wish for?"

"That Jim Crow there in the window," answered the urchin, holding
out a cent, and pointing to the gingerbread figure that had attracted
his notice, as he loitered along to school; "the one that has not a
broken foot."

So Hepzibah put forth her lank arm, and, taking the effigy from