"Here is a little thing I can do;" and ashamed of the selfish impulse, she gathered several of her finest flowers and offered them, saying cordially:-- "I think you would like these. Please take them, and by and by when there are more, you shall have prettier ones." "Oh, thank you! I did want some for mamma. She is ill, and will be so pleased," was the grateful answer, given with a little courtesy, and a smile that made the wistful face a very happy one. "Do you live near by?" asked Abby, seeing at once from the child's speech and manner that she was both well-bred and grateful. "Just around the corner. We are English, and papa is dead. Mamma kept school in another place till she was too ill, and now I take care of her and the children as well as I can." The little girl of twelve, in her black frock, with a face far too old and anxious for her years, was so innocently pathetic as she told the sad story, that Abby's tender heart was touched, and an impetuous desire to do something at once made her exclaim:-- "Wait a minute, and I'll send something better than flowers. Wouldn't your mother like some wine jelly? I helped make it, and have a glassful all my own." "Indeed she would!" began the child, blushing with pleasure; for the poor lady needed just such delicacies, but thought only of the children's wants. Waiting to hear no more, Abby ran in to get her offering, and came back beaming with benevolent good-will. "As it is not far and you have that big basket, I'll go with you and help carry the things, if I may? My mother will let me, and my father will come and see you, I'm sure, if you'd like to have him. He takes care of everybody, and is the best and wisest man in all the world." Lucy Mayhew accepted these kind offers with childish confidence, thinking the young lady a sort of angel in a coal-scuttle bonnet, and the two went chatting along, good friends at once; for Abby had most engaging manners, and her cheerful face won its way everywhere. She found the English family a very interesting one, for the mother was a gentlewoman, and in sore straits now,--being unable to use her accomplishments any longer, and failing fast, with no friends to protect the four little children she must soon leave alone in a strange land. "If _they_ were only cared for, I could go in peace; but it breaks my heart to think of them in an asylum, when they need a home," said the poor lady, telling her greatest anxiety to this sympathetic young visitor; while Lucy regaled the noses of the eager little ones with delicious sniffs of the pink and blue hyacinths. "Tell father all about it, and he'll know just what to do. He always does, and every one goes to him. May he come and see you, ma'am?" said Abby, longing to take them all home at once. "He will be as welcome as an angel from Heaven, my child. I am failing very fast, and help and comfort are sorely needed," answered the grateful woman, with wet eyes and a heart too full for many thanks.