At the auction of Mr. Dinsmoor’s house and furniture, the whole property, without exception, was knocked off to a young man, who seemed apparently of twenty-two or three years of age. He was able to secure it at a price much beneath its real value; for times were hard, and money scarce, so that he had but few competitors. Mr. Dinsmoor did not hear his name, and the pressure of sad thoughts prevented his making the inquiry. Possession was to be given in one week. Meanwhile, Mr. Dinsmoor sought out a small house in an obscure part of the town, which, in point of elegance and convenience, formed a complete contrast to the one he had formerly occupied. He felt, however, that it would be all his scanty salary as clerk—for he had secured a situation in that capacity—would enable him to afford. Lizzie looked, with a rueful face, at the piano, as a dear friend from whom she must henceforth be separated, it being quite too costly a piece of furniture to be retained in their reduced circumstances. Her proficiency in music, for which she had great taste, made her regret it doubly, since she might with it have added to the resources of the family by giving music lessons. On the last evening in which they were to remain in the old house, their sad thoughts were broken in upon by a ring at the bell. “Can they not even leave us to enjoy the last evening in quiet?” said Charles, half petulantly. Immediately afterwards, there entered a young man, in whom Mr. Dinsmoor recognized the purchaser of the house. “I need not bid you welcome,” said he, smiling faintly, “since you have a better right here now than myself. Had I been told, three months since, that this would be, I would not have believed it; but we cannot always foresee. I shall be prepared to leave to-morrow.” “I shall be better satisfied if you will remain,” said the young man, bowing. “What do you mean?” “Simply, that as this house and furniture are now mine, to do with as I like, I choose to restore you the latter, and offer you the use of the former, rent free, as long as you choose to occupy it.” “Who, then, are you,” asked Mr. Dinsmoor, in increasing surprise, “who can be so kind to utter strangers, with no claim upon you?”