"Did you indeed, 'm? Well, I hope she treated you civil, 'm, though it don't be much in her line. She's a Mis' Mooney, 'm. I know _her_, but she don't know _me_ anny more sence she's riz in the wurrld. She moved out of this house whin I moved into it, but none of us ladies here is good enough for her to 'sociate with _now_, 'm! You see her husband was in the rag, sack, and bottle business, 'm, 'n a wealthy gintleman friend set him up in a fish-cart, an' it's kind of onsettled her, 'm! Some folks can't stan' prosperity. If 't bed bin grad_joo_al like, she might have took it more natcheral; but it come all of a suddent, an' she's that purse-proud now, 'm, that she'll be movin' up on Nob Hill ef she don't hev no stroke o' bad luck to show 'er her place! Good day, 'm!" I carved my way through the tin cans and bottles again under the haughty eye of my Duchess of the fish-cart, and in a few minutes Patsy and I were again in Silver Street. When we entered the room he looked about with an expression of entire content. "It's all here!" he said with a sigh, as if he had feared to find it a dream. The chair with its red cushion pleased him greatly; then, after a few moments' talk to make him feel a little at home, we drew up to the picture, and I took his cleanest hand in mine, and told him the story of Victor, the brave St. Bernard dog. It was an experience never to be repeated and never to be forgotten! [Illustration: "THE STORY OF VICTOR."] * * * * * As you sit at twilight in the "sweet safe corner of the household fire," the sound of the raindrops on the window-pane mingling with the laughing treble of childish voices in some distant room, you see certain pictures in the dying flame,--pictures unspeakably precious to every one who has lived, or loved, or suffered. I have my memory-pictures, too; and from the fairest frame of all shines Patsy's radiant face as it looked into mine long ago when I told him the story of Victor. CHAPTER VI. A LITTLE "HOODLUM'S" VIRTUE KINDLES AT THE TOUCH OF JOY. "If you make children happy now, you will make them happy twenty years hence by the memory of it." The next morning when I reached the little tin shop on the corner,--a blessed trysting-place, forever sacred, where the children waited for me in sunshine, rain, wind, and storm, unless forbidden,--there on the step sat faithful Patsy, with a clean and shining morning face, all glowing with anticipation. How well I remember my poor lad's first day! Where should I seat him? There was an empty space beside little Mike Higgins, but Mike's character, obtained from a fond and candid parent, had been to the effect "that he was in heaven any time if he could jest lay a boy out flat"! And there was a place by Moses, but he was very much of a fop just then, owing to a new "second-hand" coat, and might make scathing allusions to Patsy's abbreviated swallow-tail.