"You will excuse the trouble," said Chester, turning with his burden toward the Mayor as he went out, "the case seemed so urgent!" "Oh, it is all excused," replied his honor, bowing stiffly as he walked towards the door, "but I shall remember--never doubt that!" he muttered with a smile, in which all the inward duplicity of his nature shone out. That instant a carriage drove up to the door, and after some bustle a lady entered, followed by a young lad, who paused a moment on the upper step and gave some orders to the coachman in a clear, cheerful voice, that seemed out of place in that house. "Why don't you come in?" cried the lady, folding her rose-colored opera-cloak closely around her, "you fill the whole house with cold." "In a moment--in a moment," cried the boy, breaking into a snatch of opera music as if haunted by some melody; "but pray send Tim out a glass of wine, or he will freeze on the box this Greenland night." "Nonsense! come in!" cried the mother, entering the drawing-room and approaching the fire. Here she threw back her opera-cloak, revealing a rich brocade dress underneath, lighted up with jewels and covered as with a mist of fine lace! "he'll do well enough--come to the fire!" she continued, holding out her hands in their snowy gloves for warmth. The lady had not noticed Chester, who stood back in the hall, that she might pass. Applicants of all kinds were so common at her dwelling, even at late hours, that she seldom paused, even to regard a stranger. But the noble-looking lad was far more quick-sighted. As he turned reluctantly to close the door, Chester advanced with the little girl in his arms, and would have passed. "What is this?--what is the matter?--is she sick?" inquired the boy, earnestly. "She is a poor, homeless child, half frozen and almost famished," answered Chester. "Homeless on a night like this!--hungry and cold!" exclaimed the lad, throwing off his Spanish cloak and tossing his cap to the hall table. "Come back, till she gets thoroughly warm, and I'll soon ransack the kitchen for eatables; a glass of Madeira now to begin with. Lady Mother, come and look at this little girl--it's a sin and a shame to see anything with a soul reduced to this." "What is it, Fred?" cried the lady, sweeping across the drawing-room; "oh, I see, a little beggar girl! Why don't you let the man pass? He's taken her up for something, I dare say." "No," said Chester with a faint hope of getting food; "it is want, nothing worse--she is frozen and starved." "What a pity, and the authorities make such provision for the poor, too! I declare, Mr. Farnham, you ought to stop this sort of thing--it is scandalous to have one's house haunted with such frightful objects." Young Farnham drew toward his mother, flushed and eager. "If the girls are in bed, let me go down and search for something, the poor child looks so forlorn."