CHAPTER III.

VISIT TO THE HUT.

JUST as Mrs. Corwin was ready to begin her story, a carriage drove to the door; and mamma had to go down to see the visitor. She was gone so long that when she returned, nurse had put Jamie into his crib.

Mamma found her little girl sitting on the upper stair with Flossy in her lap. She looked sober though not vexed, because the visitor stayed so long.

Mamma looked sober too. She kissed Bessie, and called her a good, patient girl; but then she walked to the bureau, and stood as if she were thinking, thinking of something that was not pleasant. At last she stepped into the entry and called nurse.

"I have an errand to the Four Corners," she said; "and I want you to find out whether John is at home, so that he can drive me there. If he can, you may put up a basket of food for a poor family: bread and meat, with some small parcels of tea, sugar, and rice. You know what is suitable."

"Oh, yes, ma'am! I've packed too many baskets since I lived in Corwin's Nest not to know that."

"I want to go as soon as I can," urged the lady, "and I have to find some articles of clothing. The family is very destitute."

"They'll have reason to thank God, ma'am, that they've fallen into such good hands."

All this time, Bessie stood by, her cheeks growing every moment more flushed.

"Mamma," she exclaimed, "please let me go with you. I've got five cents and two pennies, I can give the poor children."

Mamma stopped a moment, looked thoughtfully into Bessie's eyes and then said:—

"Yes, darling, you may go; and we will put off the story I promised you until another day."

By the time Mrs. Corwin had gathered a bundle of clothing, John drove the carriage to the door, nurse carried out the well-filled basket, pushed the bundle under the seat, and wished them a good ride.

In about ten minutes, they had reached Four Corners. There was quite a village here. Turning off one of the streets, there was a cluster of small cottages, inhabited mostly by foreigners.

Mrs. Corwin, after looking around, directed John to drive to one of these huts, and ask whether a family by the name of Bell lived there.

"No, they did not, they lived farther on in an old tumble-down place, not fit to harbor pigs," the woman said.

It was indeed a poor, desolate home. Mrs. Corwin's heart sank as she looked about her, and reflected that six persons lived here in daily risk of being killed by the falling of the roof upon them.

Her low knock was answered by a feeble "Come in."

What a sight met her eye!

Half-reclining on a bundle of coarse straw lay a woman holding to her breast a poor, starving babe; and by her side were three other children from two to six years old.

Bessie clung to her mamma's dress, trying to lead her away. She was frightened at those pale, hungry faces, and those protruding, eager eyes.

"I heard this morning that you were sick and in need," said the lady, in a sympathizing voice.

"Thank you, ma'am," answered the poor woman.

"Where is your husband, Mrs. Bell?"

"He crawled off this morning, trying to get work to keep his family from starving."

"Have you had any breakfast?"

"No, ma'am; nor supper yester-night."

The lady untied the cloth over the basket, and took out a loaf of bread.

Before she took it, the woman clasped her hands and thanked God.

Her chin quivered so much that she could scarcely articulate; but when she saw one of the children eagerly clutching a piece, she burst out—

"It's from the Lord, Aggy. Don't forget to praise him."

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