"Why, Jim," she said, quite brightly, a happy smile lighting up her thin, worn face, "you'll soon be a man. Fancy you able to help me like this!" "When I'm a man, mother," the boy answered fondly, "I'll work for you so that you won't need to slave like you do now. I mean to save my money, and grow rich. It must be grand to be rich, I think." "Money doesn't always bring happiness, Jim. When I was in service as a girl, I lived with some very rich people, and they were most miserable—never helped others, or gave to the poor. Of course, all rich folks ain't like that." "Miss Morris, for instance, mother?" "Oh, I don't think she's at all well off, Jim. I've heard tell that the vicar has as much as he can do to make both ends meet." "Why, mother, I thought he must be rich! And Miss Morris somehow looks rich, don't you think?" Mrs. Lethbridge smiled at her little son's astonishment, and, after a few moment's thought, she said— "Well, Jim, perhaps you're right in one way. I think, somehow, Miss Morris does look rich, and I'll tell you why I believe it is. She is rich in love, for where is there one in the parish who doesn't bless her for her sweet ways, and love her dearly? I think she's one of those the vicar preached about last Sunday, who lay up for themselves treasures in heaven, and that's what gives her that happy, contented look that makes one think she's got everything she wants." "Maybe that's it," Jim agreed. The other children had gone to bed, and Mrs. Lethbridge and her elder son were alone. They had their frugal supper, and, glancing at the clock, the mother saw it was nearly ten. "I think you had better go to bed, my boy," she remarked, "for you must be very tired, I know." "Shan't I wait up with you till father comes, mother?" "No; it will be more than an hour before then. He is sure to be late," she added with a sigh. "It's a shame," Jim grumbled, "that father should keep you waiting for him like this, when he's only amusing himself at the 'White Hart,' and he'll stay there till they turn him out at eleven o'clock. He's always the last to go. Do let me sit up with you for company, mother." "No, Jim," with decision in her tones, "I shall be a great deal happier to know you're in bed resting. Remember, one hour's sleep before twelve, is better than two after, and boys like you should have long nights." "Ain't you very tired, mother?" "Well, a little, my dear. Kiss me now, like a good lad, and be off to bed." Jim complied, somewhat reluctantly, and then stole softly upstairs, so as not to awaken the sleeping children, and into the little room he shared with his brother.