"Why, you know, Jem, as everything nearly is new what you got ready for our home." "Yes," said Jem, "yes, I know. I wonder how we could do?" "What is it for?" asked Meg. "Why, my girl, my heart's just achin' at a little feller I saw there in a attic. He's been lyin', his sister told me, ever since the first week in May, and he's like a skeleton. She don't seem to have much to give him, nor to live on herself neither, and he's got nothing on him but an old shawl, and the girl says as he's awful cold of nights. It's a frightful draughty place." Meg's happy eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Jem," she exclaimed, "can we give them one of ours?" "Well, ye see, Meg, it won't do for us to be giving away our things one by one; for if we began in this poor neighbourhood, we should not have a rag to our backs, as the sayin' is. But yet this little chap--" "Oh, yes, Jem, we ought not to 'pass by on the other side,' as the Bible says. Do let us give one of ours." "I was thinkin'," said Jem; "you know, Meg, you and me made up our minds when we was married to put by somethin' to give to our God out of every shillin' we earned--" "Yes, we did," answered Meg eagerly. "Now, though we haven't earned much yet," he went on, "yet we've had a deal give us; and 'sposin' I was to get a blanket for the poor little chap: how would that be?" "Oh, Jem, do! Will you take me out with you to get it?" Jem smiled; then turning grave again, he added: "But, sweetheart, I'm loth to sadden you with such tales when your dear heart's a bit sore at leavin' home. Eh, Meg?" Meg's tears were very near, but she answered as steadily as she could-- "It would be poor thanks to Him who's given me so much, Jem, to say as I was too happy to be made sorrowful by helping any one in need." Jem said no more, but went into the other room and fetched Meg's hat and jacket; but when they got outside in the brilliant light of the declining June sun, he said to himself, that he had never before seen his Meg look so beautiful. The blanket was bought, a very ordinary one--"all wool" as Jem had said, remembering his mother's bringing-up, but not so good as to be immediately noticed and perhaps stolen in the large lodging-house in which the children lived. Then they retraced their steps, and when they came to the court Jem stopped. "I'll soon be home, my girl; you go on without me." "Shan't I come too?" asked Meg. "If you'd like to, my dear; but it ain't a nice place." It was by this time getting dusk between the high houses, and Meg followed her husband in silence. It was the first time she had ever been into any crowded abode. A country cottage was the only experience she had had. Jem led the way up the dark and rickety stairs to the very top, and then stooped his head under a low doorway.