Nelly took the poor foundling at once to her heart--clad him in her dead baby's clothes, and would not hear to his being taken to the almshouse. "God," she said, "knew what was the best almshouse for the pretty little cherub, when He sent it to cheer the lone cabin of the childless." As a matter of course, unlucky Philip took cold from the exposure of that stormy night, and had one of his fevers, which confined him several weeks. The first day that he was able to get out, he walked down to the bay, with his wife, to say good-bye to some friends, who were going to America. After the ship had set sail, they sat for a long time on the shore, watching it sadly and silently. "Ah, Nelly," said Philip at last, "if it weren't for my faver and your being burdened with that strange baby, sure we might work and earn enough to take us to America. Faith, that shipwreck was a misfortune to us, entirely!" "Sure, and it was no such thing," said Nelly; "what's a faver more or less to you, avourneen; and has it not given us a beautiful boy, to take the place of our little dead Phil? 'Twas the Lord sent him, and He'll not let him bring us any trouble." "The Lord,--why, Nelly, woman, do you suppose _He_ ever busies himself with the likes of us?" said the schoolmaster, bitterly. "Philip, avick, what do you mean?" exclaimed Nelly, in astonishment. "I mean," replied her husband, "that our cabin is so small and poor, and the castle near by so big and grand, that it's natural Providence should overlook us just, and attend to the affairs of the quality. It's the way of the world." "It may be the way of the world, but it's no the way with God, Philip. Our cabin is bigger than a sparrow's nest, afther all, and we--even you, miserable sinner, as ye are, 'are of more value than many sparrows.' 'The likes of us,' indade! Have ye ever come yet to sleeping in a stable in Bethlehem, among cows and sheep and asses? Answer me that! Ah, it's ashamed of you, I am, Philip O'Flaherty." The next morning, this poor couple sat down to a breakfast of only half a dozen potatoes and a little salt. "Philip, dear," said Nelly, sadly, when they had finished, "these are our last potatoes--I have sold all the rest to pay our rent, and the Doctor's little account, just." "Blessed Saints!" exclaimed Philip, "what'll we do?" "I'm afraid we must ask charity, till we can get work," said Nelly. "No, no! I can't do that! I will die first!" cried Philip; then laying his face down on the table, he burst into tears and sobbed out--"Oh Nelly, darling, I wish I were dead and out of your way!--sure I'm no use in the world."