Next day the lad called at the hotel, and sure enough, the strange gentleman had arrived again. He appeared somewhat bothered, but quickly gathering up some of his soiled clothes, gave them to the lad, and bade him tell his mother to wash and return them that evening by all means. "Alas! that I cannot do," said the widow, as her son delivered the message. "My dear child, I have neither fire to dry them, nor money to procure the necessary fuel." "Shall I take the clothes back again, mother, and tell the gentleman you can't dry them in time for him?" "No, son. I must wash and dry them--we must have money to-day, or we'll freeze and starve--I must wash and dry these clothes," said the disconsolate widow, as she immediately went about the performance, while her son started to a neighboring coopering establishment, to get a basket of chips and shavings to make fire sufficient to dry and iron the clothes. The clothes were duly tumbled into a great tub of water, and the poor woman began her manipulations. After a time, in handling a vest, the widow felt a knot of something in the breast pocket. She turned the pocket, and out fell a little mass of almost pulpy paper. She carefully unrolled the saturated bunch--she started--stared; the color from her wan cheeks went and came! Her two little children, observing the wild looks and strange actions of the mother, ran to her, screaming: "Dear--dear mother! Mother, what's the matter?" "Hush-h-h!" said she; "run, dear children--lock the door--lock the door! no, no, never mind. I a--I a--feel--dizzy!" The alarmed children clung about the mother's knees in great affright, but the widow, regaining her composure, told them to sit down and play with their little toys, and not mind her. The cause of this sudden emotion was the unrolling of five five hundred dollar bills. They were very wet--nearly "used up," in fact--but still significant of vast, astounding import to the poor and friendless woman. She was amazed--honor and poverty were struggling in her breast. Her poverty cried out, "You are made up--rich--wash no more--fly!" But then the poor woman's honor, more powerful than the tempting wealth in her hands--triumphed! She laid the wet notes in a book, and again set about her washing.