‘We’ve been your neighbours a long while,’ said Ann, gently, ‘and I’m ashamed I never came to see you before. We’ve brought little Bell home, for it’s a dreadful night out of doors, not fit for a grown-up person, scarcely.’ ‘But the landlord says he’ll turn us out to-morrow,’ gasped the sick man. ‘No! no!’ answered Ann; ‘that’s all right. We’ve got the money ready for him, and now we’ll make you as comfortable as we can. Sam run down and bring me a light, that’s a good fellow.’ ‘I’m not going to live long,’ said the stranger, ‘and I’m afraid of being turned out, but I can never pay you back again. There’s no more work in me, and my money’s done; I can’t pay you.’ ‘Never mind,’ she answered, ‘we’re only doing as we’d be done by, so don’t you worry about it. Here’s Sam coming with a candle; and now I’ll put your bed straight.’ But when the light was brought in, and Ann looked down at the poor covering on the mattress, she uttered a little scream of amazement, and sank down on a box beside the bed of the sick man. Sam himself stood as still as a stone, staring, as she did, at the clothes which lay across the bed. There was his old wedding waistcoat; he knew it by a patch which Ann had put into it very carefully. Was it possible that the nine five-pound notes were still safely hidden in the lining? ‘That’s an old waistcoat of mine,’ he said, as soon as he could speak; ‘I never thought to see it again.’ ‘I bought it soon after I came here,’ answered the attic tenant; ‘an old-clothesman offered it for a shilling. It’s been a good warm waistcoat; but I’ve worn it for the last time.’ ‘I’ll give you a couple of blankets for it,’ said Sam, eagerly. ‘My wife sold it without asking me, and it was my wedding waistcoat, you see. I didn’t want to part with it.’ ‘Take it, and welcome, without any blankets,’ he answered; ‘you’ve done enough for me already.’ ‘No,’ said Ann, ‘I’ll bring the blankets.’ She was trembling with excitement, but she would not leave the poor man until she had stopped up the broken panes, made the bed comfortable, and wrapped him well up in some warm blankets. Then she went down to their own room, and found Sam waiting for her before opening the seam in the lining of the waistcoat. Even his hand shook, but he managed to unpick a few stitches, and draw out a crumpled bit of paper. Yes; they were all there, the nine five-pound notes he had never expected to touch again. ‘Oh, Sam!’ she cried, with tears in her eyes, ‘do you think you will love them again?’