It was not easy to bring a smile to the face of the little Shepherd those days. A number of his friends had died and others were sick and he was helpless. Moreover, his mother had told him of the disappearance of Pauline and that her parents feared she was in great trouble. This had worried him, and the more because his mother had declared that the girl was probably worse than dead. He could not quite understand it and his happy spirit was clouded. The good Father cheered him with merry jests. Near the end of their talk the boy said: "There's one thing in this room that makes me unhappy. It's that gold piece in the drawer. It does nothing but lie there and shiver and talk to me. Seems as if it complained of the cold. It says that it wants to move around and get warm. Every time I hear of some poor person that needs food or fuel, it calls out to me there in the little drawer and says, 'How cold I am! How cold I am!' My mother wishes me to keep it for some time of trouble that may come to us, but I can't. It makes me unhappy. Please take it away and let it do what it can to keep the poor people warm." "Well done, boys!" Mr. Bloggs seemed to say with a look of joy as if he now perceived that the enemy was in full retreat. "There's no worse company, these days, than a hoarded coin," said the priest. "I won't let it plague you any more." Father O'Neil took the coin from the drawer. It fell from his fingers with a merry laugh as it bounded on the floor and whirled toward the doorway like one overjoyed and eager to be off. "God bless you, my boy! May it buy for you the dearest wish of your heart." "Ha ha!" laughed the little tin soldier for he knew the dearest wish of the boy far better than the priest knew it. Mr. Singleton called soon after Father O'Neil had gone away. "The top of the morning to you!" he shouted, as he came into Bob's room. "It's all right top and bottom," Bob answered cheerfully. "Is there anything I can do for you?" the minister went on. "I'm a regular Santa Claus this morning. I've got a thousand dollars that Mr. Bing sent me. It's for any one that needs help." "We'll be all right as soon as our load of wood comes. It will be here to-morrow morning," said the Shepherd. "I'll come and cut and split it for you," the minister proposed. "The eloquence of the axe is better than that of the tongue these days. Meanwhile, I'm going to bring you a little jag in my wheelbarrow. How about beefsteak and bacon and eggs and all that?" "I guess we've got enough to eat, thank you." This was not quite true, for Bob, thinking of the sick, whose people could not go to market, was inclined to hide his own hunger. "Ho, ho!" exclaimed Mr. Bloggs, for he knew very well that the boy was hiding his hunger. "Do you call that a lie?" the Shepherd asked as soon as the minister had gone.