On their way home they encountered another gentleman, this time a real one, with high hat and distinguished cape coat, whom Jennie immediately recognized. This was the honorable Senator himself, newly returned from Washington, and anticipating a very unprofitable Christmas. He had arrived upon the express which had enlisted the attention of the children, and was carrying his light grip for the pleasure of it to the hotel. As he passed he thought that he recognized Jennie. “Is that you, Jennie?” he said, and paused to be more certain. The latter, who had discovered him even more quickly than he had her, exclaimed, “Oh, there is Mr. Brander!” Then, dropping her end of the basket, with a caution to the children to take it right home, she hurried away in the opposite direction. The Senator followed, vainly calling three or four times “Jennie! Jennie!” Losing hope of overtaking her, and suddenly recognizing, and thereupon respecting, her simple, girlish shame, he stopped, and turning back, decided to follow the children. Again he felt that same sensation which he seemed always to get from this girl—the far cry between her estate and his. It was something to be a Senator to-night, here where these children were picking coal. What could the joyous holiday of the morrow hold for them? He tramped along sympathetically, an honest lightness coming into his step, and soon he saw them enter the gateway of the low cottage. Crossing the street, he stood in the weak shade of the snow-laden trees. The light was burning with a yellow glow in a rear window. All about was the white snow. In the woodshed he could hear the voices of the children, and once he thought he detected the form of Mrs. Gerhardt. After a time another form came shadow-like through the side gate. He knew who it was. It touched him to the quick, and he bit his lip sharply to suppress any further show of emotion. Then he turned vigorously on his heel and walked away. The chief grocery of the city was conducted by one Manning, a stanch adherent of Brander, and one who felt honored by the Senator’s acquaintance. To him at his busy desk came the Senator this same night. “Manning,” he said, “could I get you to undertake a little work for me this evening?” “Why, certainly, Senator, certainly,” said the grocery-man. “When did you get back? Glad to see you. Certainly.” “I want you to get everything together that would make a nice Christmas for a family of eight—father and mother and six children—Christmas tree, groceries, toys—you know what I mean.” “Certainly, certainly, Senator.” “Never mind the cost now. Send plenty of everything. I’ll give you the address,” and he picked up a note-book to write it. “Why, I’ll be delighted, Senator,” went on Mr. Manning, rather affected himself. “I’ll be delighted. You always were generous.” “Here you are, Manning,” said the Senator, grimly, from the mere necessity of preserving his senatorial dignity. “Send everything at once, and the bill to me.”