Lyon returned to his shop, still more disheartened than before. He
had undertaken a thankless office.

Nearly two hours elapsed before his resolution to persevere in the
good work he had begun came back with sufficient force to prompt to
another effort. Then he dropped in upon his neighbor Tompkins, to
whom he made known his errand.

"Why, yes, I suppose I must do something in a case like this," said
Tompkins, with the tone and air of a man who was cornered. "But,
there are so many calls for charity, that we are naturally enough
led to hold on pretty tightly to our purse strings. Poor woman! I
feel sorry for her. How much do you want?"

"I am trying to get ten persons, including myself, to give a dollar
each."

"Well, here's my dollar." And Tompkins forced a smile to his face as
he handed over his contribution--but the smile did not conceal an
expression which said very plainly--

"I hope you will not trouble me again in this way."

"You may be sure I will not," muttered Lyon, as he went away. He
fully understood the meaning of the expression.

Only one more application did the kind-hearted man make. It was
successful; but, there was something in the manner of the individual
who gave his dollar, that Lyon felt as a rebuke.