Kornicker waited to hear no more, but seizing the pitcher, darted out to a pump, and in a very few minutes came back again with it filled to the brim. The girl's eye grew even more lustrous than before, as she saw it, and she attempted to rise, but was unable. 'You must excuse ceremony,' said Kornicker, as he placed his arm under her back and supported her while he held the pitcher to her lips. 'Nursing isn't in my line.' The girl swallowed the water greedily, and then sank back on the pillow exhausted. 'Have you a doctor?' inquired Kornicker, placing the pitcher on the floor. 'No,' answered she feebly; 'I have no money: the last went yesterday. I'm deserted by all now.' 'Not quite,' exclaimed Kornicker, slapping his hand earnestly on his knee, while he experienced a choking sensation about the throat; 'not while I'm left. I'm sorry I a'nt a woman, for your sake; but as I don't happen to be, I hope you'll make no objections on that score; I'll look after you as if you were my own sister.' It was the first word of kindness that the girl had heard for a long time, and the tears came in her eyes. 'There, there, don't cry,' said Kornicker. 'It bothers me; I don't know what to do when women cry. But you haven't a doctor; that will never do. Keep up your heart,' said he, rising; 'I'll return presently.' Saying this, and without waiting for a reply, he left the room. Arriving in the street, his first impulse was not only to feel in his pockets, but with the utmost care to turn them inside out, and to examine them narrowly. 'Not a copper--pockets to let!' said he, restoring them to their former condition, after a long and unsuccessful search. 'But this girl must be looked after; that's settled. Now then,' said he, in a very meditative mood, 'who's able to do it and _will_?' This seemed a question not easily answered, for he stood for more than a minute in profound thought, in endeavoring to solve it; but apparently making up his mind, he hurried along the street. The direction which he took was toward the upper part of the city, and he was some time in reaching his destination, which was no other than Harry Harson's house. He crossed the court-yard and knocked at the door, which was opened by Harson. 'I want a word with you,' said Kornicker, abruptly. Harson told him to come in; led the way to his sitting-room, and pointing to a chair, told him to be seated. 'I haven't time,' said Kornicker, shaking his head. 'Do you know me?' 'I've seen you, but I can't recollect where.' '_Here_,' said Kornicker, 'here, in this room. I breakfasted here. I'm Michael Rust's clerk.' 'Then you can scarcely expect a cordial reception from _me_,' said Harson, coldly.