Mrs. Jones's emotions were too great for words. This unexpected provision for herself and boy seemed truly providential. She might go the world over and not meet with such delicate and appreciative treatment. Still she hesitated. Her life in the squatter's cabin through so many years of deprivation and poverty placed her, in her own consciousness, in such painful contrast to the courtly and elegant Mrs. McElroy, that she felt diffident about accepting so responsible a trust. And she understood children well enough to know that the offspring of the rich often look down on those in humbler circumstances. Would the general's children respect her as they should, in order for her to assume such a relation towards them as their mother wished? These thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, and, in justice to them as well as herself, she felt that she would like to have that point put to rest. She was a woman of straightforward good sense, and therefore decided to be frank in the matter, and asked,-- "But would the arrangement be agreeable to your children, madam?" Mrs. McElroy had foreseen this, and was prepared with an answer. She rang the bell, and black Nancy appeared. "Send Alice and Willie here," she said; and in a moment the brother and sister came running in. "Children," said their mother, "I've been trying to persuade Mrs. Jones to stay with us, and take charge of you. How would you like that?" "O, that would be so nice!" said Alice, crossing to Mrs. Jones, and putting her arms around her neck--an action that was peculiar to her. "It would be real good in her, I'm sure," chimed in Willie; "and then I could have Robert to play with me,--he makes splendid popguns,--couldn't I, mother?" So it was settled, and in such a manner that Mrs. Jones was made to feel that she was conferring a favor, rather than having one conferred on her; and, in fact, the arrangement was mutually advantageous, as Mrs. McElroy had sincerely remarked. Mr. Payson now called to take leave of the widow, and ask if Tom would like to return with him. He was much pleased with the arrangement, expressing anew his sympathy with her in her bereavements, and, charging her to cling to the consolation of the gospel, he and Tom took their departure, the latter tenderly kissing his mother and Robert as he bade them good by. "You must come often and see your mother," said Mrs. McElroy, cordially; "you know we shall be like one family hereafter; and not only Robert and your mother will be lonesome without you, but the rest of the children will be glad to have you join them in their amusements and studies," to which assurance Alice and Willie looked their approval. As the wheels of the missionary's buggy rumbled out of the square, Mrs. Jones said with a sigh,--