"Let me help you," said Paul; and he drew a dollar from his pocket and passed it to the applicant. "A thousand thanks for your generous kindness!" said the stranger, gratefully; "but"--and here he glanced at Paul's humble place of business--"can you spare this money?" "Easily," said Paul. "I am doing very well, and saving up money every week." "Then I will accept it. There are some kind hearts in the world. I felt very much depressed by the refusal I just received. It was a great sacrifice of pride for me to ask help of any one, but the thought of my little daughter removed all my scruples. I could bear privation and hunger myself, but I could not bear to see her suffer." "Where do you live?" asked Paul. "In Centre street. It is a miserable place, but all I can afford." "May I ask your business?" "I am an artist. I came from England, my native country, some months since, hoping to better my fortune here. But I fell sick in a short time, and continued so until a week since." "You are not looking well." "I have overcome my disease, but I need nourishing food, and I have not been able to buy it." "How did you pay your expenses while you were sick?" "I brought over with me a small sum of money, and by great economy I made it last till a week since. I am unknown, and, though I have two pictures finished, I cannot sell them. I was told that America was a good country for the poor; but I do not find it so for me." "It may be, after you are known." "But what shall I do in the meantime?" Here an idea came to Paul. He had long intended to obtain a teacher of drawing for Jimmy. It would be a charity to employ this poor artist if he were competent. "Did you ever give lessons in drawing?" he asked. "Yes; I gave lessons in England. I would gladly find scholars here, but I am not known." "I have a little brother who has a great taste for drawing," said Paul. "You may begin with him." "Thank you," said the stranger, warmly. "You give me new hope. I will teach him gladly, and leave the price of the lessons to you." "If you will tell me where you live I will call there at noon. You will want to buy some food for your little girl." "Yes, poor little Mary, I must not leave her waiting any longer. I shall be very glad to see you at my poor room. It is No. -- Centre street, back room, third floor. Ask for Mr. Henderson." "I will be sure to call." The artist made his way to a baker's where he bought a loaf of bread. Also at a shop near by he obtained a pint of milk, and, provided with these, he hastened home to his hungry child. At noon, after taking lunch, Paul found his way to the address given him by the artist. The room was dark and scantily furnished. Mr. Henderson sat before an easel, trying to work. He got up hastily as Paul entered. "I am glad to see you, my good young friend," he said. "Take a seat." "Is this your little daughter?" asked Paul. "Come here, Mary, and speak to the gentleman," said her father.