“What money, child?” asked Miss Elinor, and Alice replied that “it was pay-day,” at the same time opening the little box and showing the pieces of money she had saved from her earnings. Miss Elinor did not know of the receipt lying in her brother’s writing-desk, but she resolved that not a penny should be taken from that box, and bidding Alice be seated on a little stool at her feet, she told her to wait until her brother came. Then when she saw how languid and tired Alice seemed, she put her head upon her lap, smoothing the long brown curls until the weary girl fell asleep, dreaming that it was her mother’s hand which thus so tenderly caressed her hair. For half an hour she slumbered on, and then Mr. Howland came, treading carefully and speaking low, as his sister, pointing to the sleeping girl, bade him not to wake her. “Look at her, though. Isn’t she pretty?” she whispered, and Mr. Howland, gazing upon the fair, childish face, felt that he had seldom seen a more beautiful picture. In a few words Miss Elinor told why she was there, adding, in conclusion: “But you won’t take it, of course. You are rich enough without it, and it will do them so much good.” “I never intended to take it,” Mr. Howland replied, and going to his library, he soon returned with the receipt, which he laid within the box. Just then a new idea presented itself to the mind of Miss Elinor. They would change the silver, she said, into a bill, which they could roll up with the receipt and put in Alice’s pocket while she slept. This plan met with her brother’s approval, and when at last Alice awoke, the box was empty, while Mr. Howland, to whom she told her errand, blushing deeply to think he had found her sleeping, replied indifferently: “Yes, I found it there, and I like your promptness.” At that moment Miss Elinor left the room, and when she returned, she bore a basket of delicacies for the blind man, who, even then, was standing in the open door at home and listening anxiously for the footsteps which did not often linger so long. He heard them at last, and though they were far down the street, he knew they were Alice’s, and closing the door he passed his hands carefully over the tea-table, which he himself had arranged, feeling almost a childish joy as he thought how surprised Alice would be. “Oh, father!” she exclaimed, when at last she came bounding in, “how could you fix it so nicely? and only think, Miss Elinor has sent you so many good things—here’s turkey, and cranberry sauce, and pie, and cheese, and jelly-cake, and white sugar—and everything. I mean, for once, to eat just as much as I want,” and the delighted girl arranged the tempting viands upon the table, telling her father, the while, how pleased Mr. Howland was at her promptness. “He gave you a receipt, I suppose?” Mr. Warren said, and Alice replied: