“Let us go up alone,” said the boy, shivering. “Good-night, sir; Anna and I had better go up alone. We thank you all the same.” Young Savage watched them sadly as they went up the dark staircase, hand-in-hand, slowly and mournfully, like criminals mounting a gallows. The young man’s heart went with them every step; and he returned home with strange tenderness brooding in all his thoughts. Up one flight of stairs after another those two young creatures crept, pausing more than once to cling together and comfort each other. At last they reached the door of the room, and stood there breathless, without daring to turn the latch. A glow of light came through the crevices, and they could hear the childish voice of little Joseph chatting to his grandmother with unusual glee. “Hark! I think I hear ’em; something stirred outside,” they heard him saying. “I’ll open the door—I’ll open the door.” They heard the quick patter of his feet coming that way, and turned the latch. “There, didn’t I say so? Here they are! Look, Anna! look at grandma in her new shawl. I made her put it on; and the cap, too. Isn’t she grand? Isn’t she just the handsomest, darlingest old grandma——” “Joseph, dear,” said the old lady, “hush! hush! or we’ll never let you go out again.” “But isn’t she splendid?” cried the boy; “and just look at me. A pocket here, and here, in the trousers, too; bright buttons everywhere. Oh! how I love that old man! Why, we’ve got a pint of peanuts left! Don’t she look like a lady?” It was, indeed, a bright contrast from the dark staircase, and from the usual gloom of the apartment. Joseph had lighted two tallow-candles, and kindled a good fire, by which he had been a full hour admiring his grandmother, who had the soft worsted shawl over her shoulders, and a cap of delicate lace on her head. She did, in truth, look like a lady, every inch of her. Joseph, also, was resplendent in his new clothes; the very buttons seemed to illuminate the poverty of the room with gleams of gold. “I tell you what we’ll do,” said the happy child, pointing to his old garments piled on a chair, with the frontless cap lying on the top. “We’ll give those things to some poor boy that hasn’t got friends to take him to fairs and put him in pictures, like us. We mustn’t be mean, if we are rich.” Robert went away to a corner of the room, and pretended to be very busy untying the bundle which held his own old clothes; but his hand shook so violently that he gave it up, and stood looking mournfully at his grandmother, with no heart to speak. Anna was a long time in taking off her shawl and bonnet. She was afraid of revealing the sorrow that seemed to have turned her face into marble. Robert saw how she shrank away and shivered when those kind old eyes were turned upon her. He was, in truth, a brave boy, even with that terrible sense of desolation upon him. Lifting up his young head, and choking back the sobs that swelled in his throat, he went up to that dear old woman.