“Oh, mamma, see the poor little kitten--it’s so cold--oh, we’ll keep it, won’t we, mamma! The poor little thing. Do you think it would drink milk?”
Would it drink milk? What a question to ask about a little kitten. While the little kitten was nearly choking itself trying to drink a saucerful of milk and purr at the same time, there was a jingle of bells outside, and Susie said:
“Mamma, I hear old Santa’s bells, and, of course, this is the present he brought.”
THE NICKEL THAT BURNED IN FRANK’S POCKET.
Deacon Hepworth kept a little fish market.
“Do you want a boy to help you?” asked Frank Shaw one day.
“Can you give good weight to my customers and take good care of my pennies?”
Forthwith he took his place in the little store, weighed the fish and kept the room in order.
“A whole day for fun, fireworks and noise tomorrow!” exclaimed Frank, as he buttoned his white apron about him the day before the Fourth of July. A great trout was thrown down on the counter by Ned Tant, one of Frank’s playmates.
[Illustration: “YOU HAVE FORGIVENESS, FRANK.”]
“Here’s a royal trout, Frank. I caught it myself. You may have it for ten cents. Just hand over the money, for I’m in a hurry to buy my firecrackers,” said Ned hurriedly.
The deacon was out, but Frank had made purchases for him before, so the dime spun across to Ned, who was off like a shot. Just then Mrs. Sinclair appeared.
“I want a nice trout for my dinner tomorrow. This one will do; how much is it?” she asked as she carefully examined it.
“A quarter, ma’am,” and the fish was transferred to the lady’s basket and the silver piece to the money drawer.
He thought to himself: “Ten cents was very cheap for that fish. If I tell the deacon it cost fifteen cents he’ll be satisfied, and I shall have five cents to invest in firecrackers.”
The deacon was pleased with Frank’s bargain, and when the market was closed each went his way for the night.
But the nickel buried in Frank’s pocket burned like a coal. He could eat no supper, and was cross and unhappy. At last he could stand it no longer, but, walking rapidly, tapped at the door of Deacon Hepworth’s cottage.
The old man was seated at a table, reading the Bible. Frank’s heart almost failed him, but he told the story and with tears of sorrow laid the coin in the deacon’s hand.