“I am here, grandfather,” said little Joseph, lifting his beautiful eyes to the old man’s face, and stealing a hold on his grandmother’s hand as he spoke; “and so is Robert, only he’s so surprised.” “I’m so glad, you mean,” said Robert, coming into the light; “for now Josey can go to school; and Anna—hurra for sister Anna!” When the bustle, which followed this speech, died away, it was followed by a hysterical sob, piteous to hear, which came from a sofa in the little parlor, on which Miss Eliza had thrown herself. “What is the matter?” cried half a dozen voices—and the sofa was instantly surrounded. “What is the cause of this?” “Oh! leave me alone! leave me alone to my desolation!” she cried; “the last link is broken; there is no truth—no honor—no chivalry in the world!” Old Mr. Gould, as master of the house, felt himself called upon to offer some consolation for the disappointment, which he supposed had sprung out of her unreasonable hopes regarding his nephew; but as he came close to her, she sprang up and pushed him violently backward. “Touch me not, ingrate! household fiend! traitor! You have broken my heart, trifled with the affections of an innocent, loving, confiding, transparent nature. Do not dare to touch me. Turn those craven eyes on the antiquated being that you have preferred to my youth and confiding innocence.” She sat down, panting for breath, still pointing her finger at the astonished old man; while her brother stood appalled, and old Mrs. Halstead sat down in pale consternation. “I do not understand this,” said old Mr. Gould, looking dreadfully perplexed. “I do,” whispered the nephew, laughing. “It wasn’t me, but another chap she was after.” Just then a sharp ring came to the door. Robert opened it, and there stood his early friend, the newsboy, with a torn hat in his hand. “Excuse me for coming when you’ve got company, old fellow; but I’m awfully stuck—had my pockets picked. Look a-there! lost every cent I’ve got in the theatre jest as that new tragedy chap was a-dying beautifully! Broke up, if you can’t lend me something to start on in the morning.” The boy hauled out a very dirty pocket, and shook its emptiness in proof of the reality. “I haven’t got a dollar myself.” “Jest so. Can’t be helped. I’m up a stump this time and no mistake. Good-night, old fellow.” “Stop, stop a minute; I’ll ask my grandfather. Come back, I say.” The boy came back, and stood with one hand in the rifled pocket, waiting. “Grandfather! grandfather!” said Robert, breathless and eager, “I want some of those funds of my quarter in advance. I’ve got a friend out there in distress.” The old man laughed, everybody laughed except Miss Eliza, who stopped sobbing to listen, and Joseph, who said, “Oh, Robert! how can you! He hasn’t been our grandfather more than an hour!” Robert heeded nothing of this, but drew his grandfather to the door, and pointed out his friend.