"No, ma'am," replied Sam; "he's dead." "Have you a mother?" "Yes, ma'am." "What does she do?" continued Aunt Deborah. "She sews, and I help her all I can, selling papers." "How can you pay me anything then?" [Illustration: "THERE SAT AUNT DEBORAH EARNESTLY KNITTING." [SEE NEXT PAGE.]] "Please, ma'am, I'll tell Mother all about it, and she'll be willing for me to pay you all I make." "Well, now, we'll see if you are a boy to keep his word," said Aunt Deborah. "How much must I pay?" Sam inquired anxiously. "Let me see." Aunt Deborah put on her spectacles and made a critical survey of the room. "Window--fifty cents; vase--one dollar--I wouldn't have had it broken for five!--That'll do--one dollar and a half. I shan't charge you for the dent in the furniture." "I'll try to pay you something on it every week," said Sam. "There are some days when I don't make anything; but when I do, I'll save it for you." "Very well," said Aunt Deborah; "you may go now." He thanked her, and went slowly out, while Aunt Deborah began to pick up the fragments strewn over the floor. "Oh, wait a moment!" she cried. Sam came back. "Take this stone out with you, and be careful what you do with it, next time," she said. "By the way, if you wish to keep out of trouble, you'd better not keep company with that Flipper boy--" Aunt Deborah had a rather poor memory for names--"if I had him, wouldn't I give him a lesson!" She uttered the last sentence with such a relish, that Sam was glad enough to get away. He was afraid she might conclude to bestow upon him the salutary lesson which she had proposed to give "Flipper," as she called him. Sam hurried home as fast as he could. His mother, a pale, delicate woman whose wan features and sunken eyes showed the effects of too hard work, heard his simple tale, wiped away his tears and encouraged him in his resolve to pay for the damage he had done. From that day, Sam began to be very diligent, and to earn pennies in every honest way possible to him. And every week he carried some small amount to Aunt Deborah. "That boy has some good in him," she said when he had brought his first installment. And though she grew more kind toward him every time he came, occasionally giving him a glass of milk, a sandwich or a cake, she rarely failed to warn him against the influence of that "Flipper" boy. His young companions laughed at him for paying his money to Aunt Deborah, and called him a coward for not running away when they ran; but all they said did not turn him from his purpose. One evening he went with a cheerful heart to pay his last installment. As he passed the window of the sitting-room he glanced in. There sat Aunt Deborah, earnestly knitting. The lamplight fell upon her sober face and Sam wondered if she ever looked really smiling and pleasant. "It doesn't seem as though she would be so stiff with a fellow," he said to himself. Then, in response to her "Come in," he entered the room and handed her his money.