"'No,' Tom said, he didn't suppose they were; probably they were only going to leave him long enough to get him thoroughly scared; but if he was not much mistaken they were the scared ones this time. Toby, when he went over to the boarding-house, saw two or three fellows skulking around the coal house, and he walked boldly up to them and said: 'If you are looking for Master Andrews, he is in Miss Peabody's library eating nuts and apples;' Toby's a sharp fellow; he said the way they scampered was worth a dollar. "I suppose that evening's work was about the best thing that ever happened to 'Master Andrews.' Miss Harriet all but adopted him; she had him with her on Sundays, and holidays, and to spend the evening as often as she could get up an excuse for his coming. He told me once, with the great tears in his eyes, that she was the best friend a fellow ever had in the world. 'And to think,' he said, 'that very morning of the day she found me in her coal shed, I had joined in the laugh the boys had over her because she walked so straight and looked like a soldier! I tell you I never laughed at her again.'" "What became of the boys who treated him so meanly? Were they expelled?" "No; little Andrews plead for them, and got them forgiven; he said they didn't mean to be ugly, only darkness and rain were nothing but fun to them and they could not understand his dreadful fright. No, they really grew to be better boys under his influence; and one Thanksgiving Day Miss Harriet had them all to dinner, to please Andrews. One of them, the tallest and handsomest, actually cried when he was telling me about how frightened little Andrews was, and how sorry he felt for him afterwards. He slipped out, unknown to the others, to let him out of the coal shed; but it was too late; fortunately, Miss Harriet had found him. Oh! he wasn't a very bad boy, only a thoughtless one; he grew to be a splendid man; and young Andrews and he were friends as long as he lived." "Are they both dead?" "Oh, no; Andrews died when he was a young man; he was a good noble man, and died bravely because he wasn't afraid to run into danger to help save a life; but the other one is down in the library reading his paper, and I ought to go this minute and read it for him." Grandma fumbled for her spectacles, and went off smiling. "There!" said Rollo, "I had a feeling it was Grandpa, all the time. Just think of Grandma calling him 'a horrid, awful boy!'" PANSY. POEM FOR RECITATION. THE TWO GREAT CITIES. SIDE by side the two great cities, Afar on the traveller's sight. One, black with the dust of labor, One, solemnly still and white. Apart, and yet together, They are reached in a dying breath; But a river flows between them, And the river's name is--Death.