“No, miss; and father’s dying, and mother nearly stupid with the cold, and we haven’t had anything to eat to-day.” “Oh!” gasped Editha, horrified. “I thought, miss, if I could only beg a dime of some one,” the girl went on, encouraged by her sympathy, “I could buy a few coals and make father a little gruel—there _is_ a handful of meal left.” Her pitying heart prompted her to go at once to ascertain and relieve the necessities of these wretched people; but she knew it was not always safe for a lady to enter those poverty-stricken abodes alone, and particularly so late in the day. She was not sure either that the girl was telling her the truth, though she undoubtedly was an object of charity, and should not be left to suffer in her thin clothing—and there was no mistaking the look of hunger in her wan face. Looking up, she espied a policeman not far distant. She beckoned him, and he immediately responded to her summons. “Do you know much about the people in this street?” she asked. “Yes, miss; I know that they’re a miserable set, mostly,” he returned, politely touching his hat. “Miserable?—how?” “Why, so poor they can hardly keep soul and body together, while some of them are desperate and vicious.” “This girl tells me that her father is dying, and they have no fire, nor anything to eat. Do you know her?” Editha asked, calling his attention to her companion. “Oh, this is Milly Loker,” he said, recognizing her at once. “Yes, I know her well, and I reckon she’s told you the truth, for they’ve had a hard time of it along back.” “If this is the case I will go home with her and see what I can do to relieve their suffering. I am alone, and it is growing dark, so if you will please have an eye upon this vicinity for the next half-hour or so, I shall be obliged to you,” Editha said, as she turned to go with Milly. “Yes, miss; I’ll see that no harm comes to you, and the house is only a few steps from here,” he answered respectfully. “Thank you. And now, my poor child, I will see what I can do for your comfort,” Editha said, turning to the girl. She found her wiping away the great tears with a corner of her shawl, and her heart was deeply touched at the sight. Without saying anything in reply, she turned and walked toward a miserable-looking tenement-house only a few steps away. The door hung swinging upon one hinge, making a dismal, creaking noise that sent the chills anew over Editha. Passing up a flight of dirty, broken stairs, Milly opened another door, which led into a bare and wretched-looking apartment, having only one window, and that broken in several places, the holes being stuffed with rags. Upon a rude bed in one corner lay the wasted form of a man; his hollow and unshaven face making an unsightly spectacle against the not too clean pillow on which it lay.