"Poor child," wailed she. "He had no supper but a crust of bread and a cup of cold water. He cried himself to sleep with cold and hunger. Oh, Heaven! that we should have come to this!" "And the room is very cold," added Harry, glancing around him. "It is. Our wood is all gone but two great logs. Katy could not bring them up." "I worked for an hour trying to split some pieces off them," said Katy, the lame girl. "I will fix them, marm," replied Harry, who felt the strength of ten stout men in his limbs at that moment. "But you have had no supper." "No." "Wait a minute. Have you a basket?" Katy brought him a peck basket, and Harry rushed out of the house as though he had been shot. Great deeds were before him, and he was inspired for the occasion. In a quarter of an hour he returned. The basket was nearly full. Placing it in a chair, he took from it a package of candles, one of which he lighted and placed in a tin candlestick on the table. "Now we have got a little light on the subject," said he, as he began to display the contents of the basket. "Here, Katy, is two pounds of meat; here is half a pound of tea; you had better put a little in the teapot, and let it be steeping for your mother." "God bless you!" exclaimed Mrs. Flint. "You are an angel sent from Heaven to help us in our distress." "No, marm; I ain't an angel," answered Harry, who seemed to feel that Julia Bryant had an exclusive monopoly of that appellation, so far as it could be reasonably applied to mortals. "I only want to do my duty, marm." Katy Flint was so bewildered that she could say nothing, though her opinion undoubtedly coincided with that of her mother. "Here is two loaves of bread and two dozen crackers; a pound of butter; two pounds of sugar. There! I did not bring any milk." "Never mind the milk. You are a blessed child." "Give me a pitcher, Katy. I will go down to Thomas's in two shakes of a jiffy." Mrs. Flint protested that she did not want any milk--that she could get along very well without it; but Harry said the children must have it; and, without waiting for Katy to get the pitcher, he took it from the closet, and ran out of the house. He was gone but a few minutes. When he returned he found Katy trying to make the teakettle boil, but with very poor success. "Now, Katy, show me the logs, and I will soon have a fire." The lame girl conducted him to the cellar, where Harry found the remnants of the old box which Katy had tried to split. Seizing the axe, he struck a few vigorous blows, and the pine boards were reduced to a proper shape for use. Taking an armful, he returned to the chamber; and soon a good fire was blazing under the teakettle. "There, marm, we will soon have things to rights," said Harry, as he rose from the hearth, where he had stooped down to blow the fire. "I am sure we should have perished if you had not come," added Mrs. Flint, who was not disposed to undervalue Harry's good deeds. "Then I am very glad I came."