22 -4 Story for the Holidays. [Jan., 



The boy's voice trembled, and his face was suffused. He felt that 

 he had ventured too much. The printei'^ looked at him for a mo- 

 ineut or two, and then said : 



' Does your mother want shoes badly ? ' 



' Oh yes, sir. She does n't earn much by washing and ironing 

 when she can do it; but she sprained her wrist three weeks ago, and 

 hasn't been able to do anything but work a little about the house 

 since.' 



' And are your wages all she has to live upon ?' 



' They are now.' 



.'You have a little sister, I believe?' 



' Yes sir.' 



' Does she want shoes also ?' 

 .'She has had nothing but old rags on her feet for a month.' 



'Indeed!' 



The printer turned to his desk, and sat and mused for half a minute 

 while John stood with his heart beating so loud that he could hear 

 its pulsations. 



' Give me that order,' the man at length said to the boy, who 

 handed the slip of paper. He tore it up, and then wrote a new order. 



' Take this,' he said, presenting it to John. ' I have told the 

 shoe-maker to give you a pair for your mother, yourself, and your 

 little sister ; and here is the half-dollar, my boy, you must have that 

 also.' 



John took the order and the money, and stood for a few moments 

 looking into the printer's face, while his lips moved as if he were try- 

 ing to speak ; but no sound came therefrom. Then he turned away 

 without uttering a word. 



' John is very late to-night,' said the poor widow Elliott, as she 

 got up and went to the door to look out in the hope of seeing her 

 boy. Supper had been ready for at least an hour, but she did n't 

 feel like eating anything until John came home. Little Netty had 

 fallen asleep by the fire, and was now snugly covered up in bed. As 

 Mrs. Elliott opened, the door, the cold air pressed in upon her, bear- 

 ing its heavy burden of snow. She shivered like one in a sudden 

 ague tit, and shutting the door quickly, murmured : 



' My poor boy, — it 's a dreadful night for him to be out and so 

 thinly clad — wonder why he stays so late away !' 



The mother had scarcely uttered these words, when the door was 



