And on the heels of this joyful letter came another delightful surprise. It was an overture of peace, and the carrier dove was Aaron Levi. The olive branch he bore was a message to the effect that "ol' man Schultzsky" wanted to see Miss Billy "to wunst." "What can he want of me?" thought the girl, hurrying out of the door in a state of high excitement. "It must be that he wants something done; if that's the case, perhaps he's not so awfully mad at me, after all." She crossed the street, and went quickly up to Mr. Schultzsky's door. The little Bohemian maid, who was rocking on the front porch, rose up uncertainly and fled around the house at her approach. Miss Billy entered without the ceremony of rapping, and made her way to the room in which she had found Mr. Schultzsky before. In appearance it was the same dark mildewed room of two weeks before, with the harness on the wall, and the picture of the beautiful woman hanging crookedly near the ceiling. In the half gloom she saw the old man still stretched on the hard bed with the weight of flatirons attached to his foot. His face in its gauntness and pallor showed the suffering he had endured; but the sunken eyes were bright, and he displayed his eagerness in the gesture with which he motioned her to the chair by his side. "I vant you to write a letter," he began in a weak voice. "It comes to me in the night if I haf no one to do for me I vill not soon get vell. Johanna is a child. She can speak not the English; she can order not the food. She can do nothing but rock herself in the chair and cry. Open the drawer in the table, and take the paper and ink. It is to my niece's oldest child--the letter." Not without trembling, because of her proximity to the strange old man, Miss Billy obeyed. "I am ready, Mr. Schultzsky," she announced. The old man fell to pondering. "To Frances Lindsay, my niece's child," he began at last. "I am in much trouble that my leg is broke and I cannot mofe. It is such warm weather, and such pain, I cannot get well unless you come by me. "I will pay it when you come, which you should do right away. "Your affectionate uncle, "ABRAHAM SCHULTZSKY." "Is that all?" asked Miss Billy, as the dictation ceased. "Yes," said the old man wearily. "The street number is on a piece of paper in the drawer. That's right." He closed his eyes, but turned slightly as Miss Billy rose to go, and held out his hand. "You are a smart girl," he said. "I thank you for what you haf done for me." Miss Billy gave his hand a little squeeze in her excitement. "I've been so sorry, Mr. Schultzsky," she said softly. "Can you ever, ever forgive me?" "It is nodding," responded Mr. Schultzsky shortly. "Goot-day." Miss Billy, thus dismissed, sped home as one whose feet were shod with wings. "All is forgiven, Blest be my soul,"