gave it to Susy, for she could not read it herself. It was written by one of the "selectmen" of a far-away town, and asked all kind people to take pity on the bearer, who was described as "a poor woman with a family of children." Susy laughed, and pointed out the word "woman" to Prudy.

"Why do you smile, little ladies? Isn't it writ right? 'Twas writ by a lawyer."

"I will carry it in to my grandmother," said Susy; and she entered the house, followed by all the children.

"Who knows but he's a griller?" said Jennie.

"Lem me see paper," cried Katie, snatching at it, and holding it up to her left ear.

"O, dear!" sighed she, in a grieved tone; "it won't talk to me, Susy. I don't hear nuffin 'tall."

"She's a cunning baby, so she is," said Dotty. "She s'poses writing talks to people; she thinks that's the way they read it."

Grandmamma Parlin thought the man was probably an impostor. She went herself and talked with him; but, when she came back, instead of searching the closets for old garments, as Dotty had expected, she seated herself at her sewing, and did not offer to bestow a single copper on the beggar.

"Susy," said she, "he says he is hungry, and I cannot turn him away without food. You may spread some bread and butter, with ham between the slices, and carry out to him."

"What makes her so cruel?" whispered Dotty.

"O, Grandma knows best," replied Prudy. "She never is cruel."

"What makes you put on so much butter?" said Jennie Vance; "I wouldn't give him a single thing but cold beans."

Dotty, whose Sunday school lesson was all the while ringing in her ears, looked at the judge's daughter severely.

"Would you pour cold beans into anybody's hands, Jennie Vance? Once my mamma gave some preserves to a beggar,—quince preserves,—she did."

Jennie only tossed her head.

"I'm going to give him some money," continued Dotty, defiantly; "just as cheerfully as ever I can."

"O, yes, because he called you the handsomest."

"No, Jennie Vance; because I am not stingy."

"Um isn't stinchy," echoed Katie.

"I've got some Christmas money here. I earned it by picking pins off the floor, six for a cent. It took a great while, Jennie, but I wouldn't be selfish, like some little girls."

"Now, little sister," said Prudy, taking Dotty one side, "don't give your money to this man. You'll be sorry by and by."

But there was a stubborn look in Dotty's eyes, and she marched off to her money-box as fast as she could go. When she returned with the pieces of scrip, which amounted in all to fifteen cents, the children were grouped about the beggar, who sat upon the door-step, the plate of sandwiches before him.

"Here's some money, sir, for your sick children," cried Dotty, with an air of importance.

"Blessings on your pretty face," replied the man, eagerly.

Dotty cast a triumphant glance at Jennie.

"Ahem! This is better than nothing," added the beggar, in a different tone, after he had counted the money. "And now haven't any of the rest of you little maidens something to give a poor old wayfarer that's been in the wars and stove himself up for his country?"

There was no reply from any one of the little girls, even tender Prudy. And as Dotty saw her precious scrip swallowed up in that dreadfully dingy wallet, it suddenly occurred to her that she had not done such a very wise thing, after all.

"Why don't you eat your luncheon, sir?" said Jennie Vance; for the man, after taking up the slices of bread and looking at them had put them down again with an air of disdain.

"I thought, by the looks of the house, that Christians lived here," said he, shaking his head slowly. "Haven't you a piece of apple pie, or a cup custard, to give a poor man that's been in prison for you in the south country? Not so much as a cup of coffee or a slice of beefsteak? No. I see how it is," he added, wiping his face and rising with an effort; "you are selfish, good-for-nothing creeters, the whole of you. Here I've been wasting my time, and all I get for it is just dog's victuals, and enough scrip to light my pipe."

With this he began to walk off, puffing. Dotty longed to run after him and call out, "Please, sir, give me back my money." But it was too late; and summoning all her pride, she managed to crush down the tears.

"Tell the people in this house that I shake off the dust of my feet against them," wheezed the stranger, indignantly. "The dust of my feet—do you hear?"

"What a wicked, disagreeable old thing!" murmured Jennie Vance.

"Dish-gwee-bly old fing!" cried "Flyaway," nodding her head till her hair danced like little tufts of corn-silk.

"I'm glad I didn't give him any of my money," said Jennie, loftily.

"So am I," returned Susy.

Prudy said nothing.

"I didn't see him shake his feet," said Dotty, changing the subject; "and the dust wouldn't come off if he did shake 'em."

"Have you any more Christmas money left, Dotty," said Jennie, twirling her gold ring on her finger.

"O, yes, ever so much at home. And I shall soon have more," added Dotty, with a great effort to be cheerful; "for people are always dropping pins."

"I've got any quantity of scrip," pursued Jennie; "and I don't have to work for it, either."

"O, dear," thought Dotty, "what's the use to be good? I 'sposed if I gave away my money cheerfully, they'd all feel ashamed of themselves; but they don't! I wish I had it back in my box, I do!"

CHAPTER II.

PLAYING KING AND QUEEN.

"What are you hunting for on your hands and knees, Alice?" said grandmamma, next day.

"O, nothing, only pins, grandma; but I can't find any. Isn't this a hidden-mist carpet?"

"No, dear; a hit-and-miss carpet is made of rags. But what do you want of pins?"

"She has given away what Aunt Ria paid her for Christmas," said Prudy, speaking for her; "she gave it all to the beggar."

"Yes, she did; one, two, free, four, nineteen, tenteen," said Katie; "and the gemplum didn't love little goorls."

"Why, Alice! to that man who was here yesterday?"

Dotty was frowning at Prudy behind a chair. "Yes, 'm," she answered, in a stifled voice.

"Were you sorry for him?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did you hear me say I did not believe he was in need of charity?"

"Yes, 'm."

Grandma looked puzzled, till she remembered that Alice had always been fond of praise; and then she began to understand her motives.

"Did you suppose Jennie Vance and your sisters would think you were generous?" asked she, in a low voice.

Dotty looked at the carpet, but made no reply.

"Because, if that was your reason, Alice, it was doing 'your alms before men, to be seen of them.' God is not pleased when you do so. I told you about that the other day."

Still the little girl did not understand. Her thoughts were like these:

"Grandma thinks I'm ever so silly! Prudy thinks I'm silly! But isn't Jennie silly too? And O, she takes cake, all secret, out of her new mother's tin chest. I don't know what will become of Jennie Vance."

Mrs. Parlin was about to say more, when Miss Flyaway, who had been all over the house in