that the thief will be found out; and then those who have accused you will have cause to be ashamed of themselves."

George, little Ned, and a great number of his school-fellows, now crowded round Henry, congratulating him upon his victory, as they were all anxious to see him fairly acquitted of the charge. Eliza and Juliana also joined the little throng, and, by their caresses, endeavoured to rally him into his usual good spirits, which they continued to do for some days after. As, however, no discovery was made about the money, he felt himself very uneasy, and could not but think that many of the boys looked upon him as a thief; especially as insinuations were sometimes thrown out by the elder boys, which made him very miserable; and those who had first accused him, would frequently ask, in his hearing, "Who stole Scott's money?"

CHAP. IV.

A fortnight had now nearly elapsed, and the affair began, in some measure, to wear off. Indeed, it was seldom mentioned, except by those boys who appeared, from the commencement, so desirous of obtaining a verdict against Henry. His school-fellows, generally, were anxious to play with him, and endeavoured to rouse his spirits by every means in their power. They never commenced a new game, but he was solicited to join them; and they never went for a walk, but he was anxiously requested to accompany them. All their endeavours however, were fruitless: they could not make him what he was before this charge was brought against him. He evidently had something preying upon his mind; for instead of being one of the most lively boys in the school—one who had hitherto shown a desire to join in any good-natured frolic—he was now become quite serious, and even melancholy. In vain did his friend George use every exertion: he who before could have persuaded him to any thing, and to whose advice he had always paid a great regard, now entreated him, in vain, to cheer his drooping spirits. Mrs. Harris, with her two daughters, also endeavoured to laugh him out of what they called his sulky mood; but he replied, that he could not help it; that he should never again be happy till it was discovered who it was that stole Scott's money; and that its being lost while he was his bed-fellow, certainly threw a suspicion upon him that he could not get over, and to labour under which made him truly miserable.

Dr. Harris felt a great deal of uneasiness about the matter, not merely because he saw Henry labouring under so serious a charge, but that an affair of such a nature should remain so long undetected, and that he should hitherto have been foiled in his attempts to clear up the mystery. In this state he continued, when, one morning, after he had returned from his usual early walk, and was crossing the lawn that led from the school to the parsonage-house, he observed a poor woman, rather shabbily dressed, looking in at the school-room window. Not appearing to find the object of her search, she was turning towards the house, when she encountered the person of the Doctor.

"Who are you looking for, good woman?" asked he.

"I—I want," apparently somewhat disturbed by meeting the master, "I want to see one of the little boys, Sir," she said, curtsying very low.

"What little boy do you want? and what do you want him for?"

"I don't know his name, Sir; but he wears a short blue jacket and nankeen trowsers, and a white hat, Sir. He has black hair, and he is a very handsome boy, Sir."

"Is his name Henry," said Dr. Harris.

"I think that was the name the other lad called him by, Sir; for there was another fresh-coloured little gentleman came to the cottage with him."

"What did they come to your cottage about, my good woman?"

"Oh, Sir, I and my poor dear sick husband ought to be very thankful for the help they gave us. And I now want to see them, to thank them for their goodness, and to tell them that my husband will, by God's mercy, be able to go to work very soon. That's all I wanted, Sir," she said, again curtsying, though with some degree of alarm; for she feared that her peeping about for the boys might have offended Dr. Harris.

"What did they do for your sick husband then?" asked Dr. Harris. "I do not think they had the power of rendering you much assistance."

"Oh yes, Sir, they had," she replied: "Master Henry gave us, altogether, sixteen shillings. And I am sure, that if he had not helped us, we should all have been starved. But the Lord is always very good, and sends something to those who are in want."

At this recital Dr. Harris felt amazed; and the circumstance of Scott's money being lost, immediately recurred to his memory. "It must be so," he said to himself: "these boys, anxious to do a service to this poor family, have taken Scott's money from his box, where I suppose they thought it was lying useless, and appropriated it to relieving their wants.—Step in doors, my good woman," he said, as he hastened across the lawn: "step in: I wish to ask you a few questions."

Martha Watson, (for that was the name of this poor woman) now repented having come to the school at all, as she feared, from the anxiety in Dr. Harris's face, that the boys might get scolded for coming to the cottage without leave of their master; and she followed him to the house with a faltering step.

The servant having opened the door, Dr. Harris led the way into a little room, which was his study, and desired Martha Watson to enter, when he closed the door, and they both sat down. "Where do you live, pray?" asked the Doctor.

"In one of those poor cottages, Sir, in the lane that leads on to the common."

"You say these boys gave you sixteen shillings: I wish you would tell me what it was that first induced them to come to your cottage, and every thing you know about them."

Martha Watson now felt very uneasy, and anxiously asked whether they had done any thing wrong, which she the more feared, as she had not seen them for some time past. Dr. Harris begged of her to answer his question, and assured her that there was no cause for her alarm.

She then related to him the following circumstance: "About a month ago, Sir, as my little son Jack, who is about six years old, was coming from Farmer Miles's, with a pitcher full of milk, and making all the haste he could to get home with it for his daddy's supper, these two young gentlemen were hastening off the common, and in their hurry to turn the corner of the lane, they did not see little Jack, but ran against him. So, Sir, they ran so violently, that they knocked him down, spilled the milk, broke the pitcher into a hundred pieces, and cut poor Jack's arm, which bled very much indeed."

"They did not do him a very serious injury, I hope," said the Doctor.

"No, Sir; only cut his arm a little. Finding, however, that Jack was afraid to go home alone, they came with him to our cottage, when they told me the whole affair, and said how sorry they were they had spilt the milk and broke the pitcher; and did all they could to pacify little Jack. When they found how poor we were, and saw my dear husband sick in bed, they asked me many questions: how long he had been ill, what money we had, and many others; and when I told them that he had kept his bed for five weeks, and was not then able to get up; and that we had no money, but the little I and my eldest girl could earn in the fields, they talked