"It is the lady's privilege to relieve you--her highest privilege!" The little boy here began to cry from mere misery, and the woman roused herself to say, "For shame, Tom! before the lady," and then collapsed, too weak to care for what might happen next in the world.

Smilash looked impatiently at Miss Wilson, who hesitated, and said to him: "What do you expect me to do ?" "To help us," he replied.

Then, with an explosion of nervous energy, he added: "Do what your heart tells you to do.

Give your bed and your clothes to the woman, and let your girls pitch their books to the devil for a few days and make something for these poor little creatures to wear.

The poor have worked hard enough to clothe THEM.