“Do?” repeated the harsh voice of Hepsy. “Go home and set yourself to work. Them shoes has got to be stitched before you go to bed, so, budge, I say.” There was no alternative but submission, and with a swelling heart Mildred followed the hard woman up the hill and along the narrow path and into the cheerless kitchen, where lay the shoes which she must finish ere she could hope for food or rest. “Let me take them upstairs,” she said; “I can work faster alone,” and as Hepsy made no objection, she hurried to her little room beneath the roof. Her head was aching dreadfully, and her tears came so fast that she could scarcely see the holes in which to put her needles. The smell of the wax, too, made her sick, while the bright sunlight which came in through the western window made her still more uncomfortable. Tired, hungry, and faint, she made but little progress with her task, and was about giving up in despair, when the door opened cautiously and Oliver came softly in. He was a frail, delicate boy, and since his mother’s death Hepsy had been very careful of him. “He couldn’t work,” she said; “and there was no need of it either, so long as Mildred was so strong and healthy.” But Oliver thought differently. Many a time had he in secret helped the little, persecuted girl, and it was for this purpose that he had sought her chamber now. “Grandmother has gone to Widow Simms’s to stay till nine o’clock,” he said, “and I’ve come up to take your place. Look what I have brought you;” and he held to view a small blackberry pie, which his grandmother had made for him, and which he had saved for the hungry Mildred. There was no resisting Oliver, and Mildred yielded him her place. Laying her throbbing head upon her scanty pillow, she watched him as he applied himself diligently to her task. He was not a handsome boy; he was too pale,—too thin,—too old-looking for that, but to Mildred, who knew how good he was, he seemed perfectly beautiful, sitting there in the fading sunlight and working so hard for her. “Clubs,” she said, “you are the dearest boy in all the world, and if I ever find out who I am and happen to be rich, you shall share with me. I’ll give you more than half. I wish I could do something for you now, to show how much I love you.” The needles were suspended for a moment, while the boy looked through the window far off on the distant hills where the sunlight still was shining.