It was early yet; and few people were stirring except the men, women, and children who were hurrying to enter the factory before the bell ceased to toll. Johnny hurried, too, for he remembered the scolding he had received the day before for being five minutes too late, and was just crossing the railroad track when his toe hit against something, which he stooped to pick up. It was a silver dollar; but he did not know it. He had never seen one. He thought it was a temperance medal, like what he had seen strung around the boys' necks. His eyes shone with pleasure; he had often wished for a medal, and he determined that when he reached the factory he would thread a piece of yarn through the hole and wear it outside his jacket. The place where Johnny worked was a stocking factory. His part was to wind the skeins of yarn upon the long spools, from which the men and large boys wove it into stockings. He had forgotten about his hunger now, and was tying a knot in the string he had put through the dollar, when a young woman came toward him. "What are you doing?" she asked. He held up the medal, saying, eagerly, "I found it." "It's a dollar, a silver dollar, Johnny." "Oh, goody!" cried the boy; "now I can have some new shoes. I thought it was a Father Matthew's medal; but I'd rather have a dollar. Oh, I'm so glad!" The woman looked in his pale face, and couldn't help saying, as she did so,-- "Are you hungry, child?" "Not very." "What did you have for breakfast?" His lips quivered, but he knew by her kind face that she was a friend; and he told her the whole story of his mother's long sickness; and how they had grown poorer and poorer, until there was nothing now but what he earned. "I knew Ella would be hungrier than I," he said, looking the woman full in the face with his clear blue eyes; "and so I didn't take the porridge." "Wait a minute; you sha'n't go to work so," was all she said; and then she was off through the door, down the long steps in a hurry. He pulled his stool close to the small wheel, on which was a large skein of fine yarn, and began to turn it with his foot, when the woman came back, bringing a small basket. "Here, Johnny, eat this and this," giving him a buttered biscuit and a piece of cold meat; "and carry the rest home. There is enough for you, your mother, and Ella, to have a good dinner." Poor Johnny was dumb with astonishment. He could scarcely realize that all this was for him; but as the woman waited to see him eat, he pulled the hard silver dollar from his pocket and held it out to her. "No! no!" she exclaimed; "give it to your mother. She'll know what to do with it, I dare say." That was a happy day for Johnny; almost the happiest he had ever known. He had begun it by giving up his own comfort for that of his mother and sister, and by-and-by God sent him friends to care for him. CHAPTER II. KIND FRIENDS.