"In a moment--in a moment," answered, the youth, moving up the hall
and searching eagerly in his pockets--"stop, my dear fellow, don't
be in such a confounded hurry--oh, here it is."

The lad drew forth a portmonnaie, and emptied the only bit of gold
it contained into his hand.

"Here, here," he said, blushing to the temples and forcing it upon
Chester; "I haven't a doubt that everything is eaten up in the house,
but this will go a little way. You are a fine fellow, I can see that;
don't let the poor thing suffer--if help is wanted, I'm always on
hand for a trifle like that; but good night, good night, the governor
is getting fractious, and my lady mother will take cold--good night."

Chester grasped the hand so frankly extended, and moved down the
steps, cheered by the noble sympathy so unexpected in that place.

"You will understand," said the Mayor, turning short upon poor Fred,
as he entered the room, "you will please to understand, sir, that
to station yourself on my door-steps and call for wine as if you were
in a tavern, is an insult to your father's principles. It is not to
be supposed that this house contains Madeira or any other alcoholic
drink. Remember, sir, that your father is the chief magistrate of
New York, and the head of a popular principle."

"But why may I not request wine for a poor child suffering for warmth
and food, when we have it every now and then on the dinner table?"
inquired the boy seriously.

"You are mistaken; you are too young for explanations of this kind,"