"Oh yes, sir, thank you, it's quite well," answered Martha, blushing through the dirt on her face, as she eyed the fallen food anxiously. "Tell me now, little one," continued Tom, sitting down on the bench and drawing the child gently towards him, "whom are you pocketing all these good things for?--not for yourself, I'm quite sure of that." "Oh dear, no, sir; it's for gran'father." "Indeed. Is grandfather very poor?" "Oh yes, sir, very, _very_ poor; an' he's got nobody but me to take care of him." "If that be so, who is taking care of him just now?" asked Matty, who had joined her brother, leaving another "worker" at the harmonium to play the people out,--a difficult thing to do, by the way, for the people seemed very unwilling to go. You see, among other things, Jack Frost and Sons could gain no footing in that hall, and the people knew only too well that the firm was in great force awaiting them outside. "Nobody's takin' care on 'im, ma'am," replied Martha, somewhat shyly. "I locked 'im in, an' he's takin' care of hisself." "Would you like to give grandfather anything in particular, little woman, if a fairy were to offer to give it you?" "Oh, wouldn't I just?" "Yes? What would you ask for?" Martha pursed her little mouth and knitted her brows in thought for a minute. Then she said slowly, "I'd ask for a mug of hot soup, an' a blanket, an' some coals, and--oh! I forgot, a teapot, for ours is cracked an' won't 'old in now." "Do you live far from this hall?" asked Tom. "No, sir, quite close." "Come, Matty, you and I will go with this little one and see grandfather. What is your name, child?" "Martha Burns, sir." "Well, Martha, give me your hand, and come along." They were soon in the shabby little room,--for Martha was eager to give the food to the old man. Of course Jack Frost and Sons were still in possession, but there had come another visitor during the child's absence, whom they were scarce prepared to meet. Death sat beside the lowly bed. He had not yet laid his hand on his victim, but his chill presence was evidently felt. "Darling, I'm glad you've come," said the old man, faintly. "I've been longing so for you. Give me your hand, dear. I'm so cold--so cold." He shivered as he spoke until the miserable bed shook. Poor Martha forgot the food in her anxiety, for a striking change had come over gran'father--such as she had never seen before. She took his thin hand in hers, and began to weep softly.