merchant. There was no answer on her lips, for this unexpected
kindness had choked the coming utterance. Rebuff, threat, anger, had
met her so often, that soft words almost surprised her into tears.

"Well, what can I do for you?"

Compassion held open the door through which she gained an entrance,
and already Good-will, Kindness and Satisfaction had come in.

"Mother is sick," said the child.

"A lying vagrant!" exclaimed Suspicion, jarring the merchant's
inward ear.

"There is truth in her face," said Compassion, pleading, and, at the
same time, she unveiled an image, sharply cut in the past of
Markland's life--an image of his own beloved, but long sainted
mother, pale and wasted, on her dying bed.

"Give this to your mother," he said, hastily, taking a coin from his
pocket. There was more of human kindness in his voice than it had
expressed for many years.

"God bless you, sir," the child dropped her grateful eyes from his
face, as she took the coin, bending with an involuntary reverent
motion. Then, as she slowly passed to the warehouse door, she turned
two or three times, to look on the man who, alone, of the many to
whom she had made solicitation that day, had answered her in
kindness.