One morning in November, business took Mr. Thornton to one of the banks of the city. While he stood waiting for his account to be balanced, he heard a low, clear voice not far from him that thrilled and interested him at once, because there was trouble in the tones. One needed only to be in misfortune to possess strong attractions for Mr. Thornton. A young girl stood at the counter below, conversing with one of the bank officers. The interview was not intended to be public, but the tones of one speaker were gruff and loud naturally, and could not easily be softened, while those of the other were clear and penetrating as a flute. "Mr. Haines," she said, "would you not be so kind as to allow us to remain in our—in your house for the winter? We can pay a small rent, and it will relieve us of much embarrassment and distress if you will." The voice matched the face, pure, true, and sweet, and the brown eyes looked pleadingly into the dead eyes of the speaker. Not a muscle of his face changed as he said, "The time cannot possibly be extended beyond what I mentioned—Christmas week." How could he speak of the glad Christmas-tide, the blossoming out of "peace on earth, good will to men," in that stony way and with that eager face before him! "Sir," she said, and a little flash came into the eyes now, "I would never ask it for myself, but my grandfather is growing old. It is very hard for him to be turned out of the home where he has lived for forty years. Will you not have pity on an old man?" "My plans are all made; I regret that I cannot accommodate you, Miss Winthrop. You must excuse me now, as I have an engagement," was the answer to the appeal, in the same business-like tones that he would have used if reading from his ledger. Then he walked away, and she stood for a moment, indignation, mortification and disappointment struggling together in her face. As she turned to go, her eyes met Mr. Thornton's; such true, kind eyes they were; if only this man were Mr. Haines! And Mr. Thornton, looking down at her, thought, "If only she were a little girl, or an old lady, I could go to her and say, 'Tell me your trouble, won't you?' But now, how can I help her?"