stairs and two up. In the apartment they entered was a stove in which a wood fire burned. In one corner stood a table with a few dishes on it, and there was a cupboard. Some chairs completed the furnishings. Close to the fire, clad in a ragged dress, sat a little girl. The boys needed but one glance to see that the family was in dire straits.
"My name is Perry," the woman said. "I live here with my two daughters. The town of Kirkville supports us. The poormaster brought some food last week but he hasn't been here this week, and we are afraid he can not come because of the storm. Otherwise I could offer you something to eat," and she turned aside her head to hide her tears.
"Don't cry, mother," exclaimed the child who had been sitting near the fire. "We're not very hungry, and maybe the snow will stop. We had a nice Thanksgiving last year—and—and—"
"I'm afraid we'll have a poor one to-morrow," Mrs. Perry replied. "But boys, come closer to the fire. You must be cold. At least we have plenty of wood. That is free, and my daughters gathered a lot the other day in the woods."
"Mrs. Perry—ahem, ma'am—that is—er—I mean—Oh, hang it! Ain't any of you going to help a fellow out!" exclaimed Ned, clearing
