by heavy crimson curtains, a soft light proceeded. The cooper could hear
the ringing of childish voices welcoming home their father, whose life,
unknown to them, had been in such peril, and he felt grateful to
Providence for making him the instrument of frustrating the designs of
the villain who would have robbed the merchant, and perhaps done him
further injury. Timothy determined to say nothing to his wife about the
night's adventure, until after his appointed meeting for the next day.
Then, if any advantage accrued to him from it, he would tell the whole
story.

When he reached home, Mrs. Harding was sewing beside the fire. Aunt
Rachel sat with her hands folded in her lap, with an air of martyr-like
resignation to the woes of life.

"I've brought you home a paper, Rachel," said her brother, cheerfully.
"You may find something interesting in it."

"I shan't be able to read it this evening," said Rachel, mournfully. "My
eyes have troubled me lately. I feel that it is more than probable I am
getting blind; but I trust I shall not live to be a burden to you,
Timothy. Your prospects are dark enough without that."

"Don't trouble yourself with any fears of that sort, Rachel," said the
cooper, cheerily. "I think I know what will enable you to use your eyes
as well as ever."

"What?" asked Rachel, with melancholy curiosity.

"A pair of spectacles."

"Spectacles!" retorted Rachel, indignantly. "It will be a good many
years before I am old enough to wear spectacles. I didn't expect to be
insulted by my own brother. But I ought not to be surprised. It's one of
my trials."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Rachel," said the cooper,
perplexed.

"Good-night!" said Rachel, rising and taking a lamp from the table.

"Come, Rachel, don't go up to bed yet; it's only nine o'clock."

"After what you have said to me, Timothy, my self-respect will not allow
me to stay."

Rachel swept out of the room with something more than her customary
melancholy.

"I wish Rachel wasn't quite so contrary," said the cooper to his wife.
"She turns upon a body so sudden it's hard to know how to take her.
How's the little girl, Martha?"

"She's been asleep ever since six o'clock."

"I hope you don't find her very much trouble? That all comes on you,
while we have the benefit of the money."

"I don't think of that, Timothy. She is a sweet child, and I love her
almost as much as if she were my own. As for Jack, he perfectly idolizes
her."

"And how does Rachel look upon her?"

"I am afraid she will never be a favorite with Rachel."

"Rachel never took to children much. It isn't her way. Now, Martha,
while you are sewing, I will read you the news."




CHAPTER IX

WHAT THE ENVELOPE CONTAINED


The card which had been handed to the cooper contained the name of
Thomas Merriam, No. ---- Pearl Street.

Punctually at twelve, he presented himself at the countingroom, and
received a cordial welcome from the merchant.

"I am glad to see you," he said, affably. "You rendered me an important
service last evening, even if the loss of money alone was to be
apprehended. I will come to business at once, as I am particularly
engaged this morning, and ask you if there is any way in which I can
serve you?"

"If you could procure me a situation, sir, you would do me a great
service."

"I think you told me you were a cooper?"

"Yes, sir."

"Does this yield you a good support?"

"In good times it pays me two dollars a day, and on that I can support
my family comfortably. Lately it has been depressed, and paid me but a
dollar and a half."

"When do you anticipate its revival?"

"That is uncertain. I may have to wait some months."

"And, in the meantime, you are willing to undertake some other
employment?"

"I am not only willing, but shall feel very fortunate to obtain work of
any kind. I have no objection to any honest employment."

Mr. Merriam reflected a moment.

"Just at present," he said, "I have nothing better to offer you than the
position of porter. If that will suit you, you can enter upon its duties
to-morrow."

"I shall be very glad to undertake it, sir. Anything is better than
idleness."

"As to the compensation, that shall be the same that you have been
accustomed to earn by your trade--two dollars a day."

"I only received that in the best times," said Timothy, conscientiously.

"Your services as porter will be worth that amount, and I will
cheerfully pay it. I will expect you to-morrow morning at eight, if you
can be here at that time."

"I will be here promptly."

"You are married, I suppose?" said the merchant, inquiringly.

"Yes, sir; I am blessed with a good wife."

"I am glad of that. Stay a moment."

Mr. Merriam went to his desk, and presently came back with a sealed
envelope.

"Give that to your wife," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

Here the interview terminated, and the cooper went home quite elated by
his success. His present engagement would enable him to bridge over the
dull time, until his trade revived, and save him from incurring debts,
of which he had a just horror.

"You are just in time, Timothy," said Mrs. Harding, cheerfully, as he
entered. "We've got an apple pudding to-day."

"I see you haven't forgotten what I like, Martha."

"There's no knowing how long you'll be able to afford puddings," said
Rachel, dolefully. "To my mind it's extravagant to have meat and pudding
both, when a month hence you may be in the poorhouse."

"Then," said Jack, "I wouldn't eat any if I were you, Aunt Rachel."

"Oh, if you grudge me the little I eat," said his aunt, in serene
sorrow, "I will go without."

"Tut, Rachel! nobody grudges you anything here," said her brother; "and
as to the poorhouse, I've got some good news to tell you that will put
that thought out of your head."

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Harding, looking up brightly.

"I have found employment."

"Not at your trade?"

"No; but at something else which will pay equally well till trade
revives."

Here he told the chance by which he was enabled to serve Mr. Merriam
the evening previous, and then he gave an account of his visit to
the merchant's countingroom, and the engagement which he had made.

"You are indeed fortunate, Timothy," said his wife, her face beaming
with pleasure. "Two dollars a day, and we've got nearly the whole of the
money left that came with this dear child. Why, we shall be getting rich
soon!"

"Well, Rachel, have you no congratulations to offer?" asked the cooper
of his sister, who, in subdued sorrow, was eating as if it gave her no
pleasure, but was rather a self-imposed penance.

"I don't see anything so very fortunate in being engaged as a porter,"
said Rachel, lugubriously. "I heard of a porter once who had a great box
fall upon him and kill him instantly; and I was reading in the
_Sun_ yesterday of another out West somewhere who committed
suicide."

The cooper laughed.

"So, Rachel, you conclude that one or the other of these calamities is
the inevitable lot of all who are engaged in this business?"

"You may laugh now, but it is always well to be prepared for the worst,"
said Rachel, oracularly.

"But it isn't well to be always looking for it, Rachel."

"It'll come whether you look for it or not," retorted his sister,
sententiously.

"Then suppose we waste no time thinking about it, since, according to
your admission, it's sure to come either way."

Rachel did not deign a reply, but continued to eat in serene melancholy.

"Won't you have another piece of pudding, Timothy?" asked his wife.

"I don't care if I do, Martha, it's so good," said the cooper, passing
his plate. "Seems to me it's the best pudding you ever made."

"You've got a good appetite, that is all," said Mrs. Harding, modestly
disclaiming the compliment.

"Apple puddings are unhealthy," observed Rachel.

"Then what makes you eat them?" asked Jack.

"A body must eat something. Besides, life is so full of sorrow, it makes
little difference if it's longer or shorter."

"Won't you have another piece, Rachel?"

Aunt Rachel passed her plate, and received a second portion. Jack winked
slyly, but fortunately his aunt did not observe it.

When dinner was over, the cooper thought of the sealed envelope which
had been given him for his wife.

"Martha," he said, "I nearly forgot that I have something for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, from Mr. Merriam."

"But he don't know me," said Mrs. Harding, in surprise.

"At any rate, he first asked me if I was married, and then handed me
this envelope, which he asked me to give to you. I am not quite sure
whether I ought to allow strange gentlemen to write letters to my wife."

Mrs. Harding opened the envelope with considerable curiosity, and
uttered an exclamation of surprise as a bank note fell out, and
fluttered to the carpet.

"By gracious, mother!" said Jack, springing to get it, "you're in luck.
It's a hundred-dollar bill."

"So it is, I declare," said his mother, joyfully. "But, Timothy, it
isn't mine. It belongs to you."

"No, Martha, I have nothing to do with it. It belongs to you. You need
some clothes, I am sure. Use part of it, and I will put the rest in the
savings bank for you."

"I never expected to have money to invest," said Mrs. Harding. "I begin
to feel like a capitalist. When you want to borrow money, Timothy,
you'll know where to come."

"Merriam's a trump and no mistake," said Jack. "By the way, when you see
him again, father, just mention that you've got a son. Ain't we in luck,
Aunt Rachel?"

"Boast not overmuch," said his aunt. "Pride goes before destruction, and
a haughty spirit before a fall."

"I never knew Aunt Rachel to be jolly but once," said Jack under his
breath; "and that was at a funeral."




CHAPTER X

JACK'S MISCHIEF


One of the first results of the new prosperity which had dawned upon the
Hardings, was Jack's removal from the street to the school. While his
father was out of employment, his earnings seemed necessary; but now
they could be dispensed with.

To Jack, the change was not altogether agreeable. Few boys of the
immature age of eleven are devoted to study, and Jack was not one of
these few. The freedom which he had enjoyed suited him, and he tried to
impress it upon his father that there was no immediate need of his
returning to school.

"Do you want to grow up a dunce, Jack?" said his father.

"I can read and write already," said Jack.

"Are you willing to enter upon life with that scanty supply of
knowledge?"

"Oh, I guess I can get along as well as the average."

"I don't know about that. Besides, I want you to do better than the
average. I am ambitious for you, if you are not ambitious for yourself."

"I don't see what good it does a feller to study so hard," muttered
Jack.

"You won't study hard enough to do you any harm," said Aunt Rachel, who
might be excused for a little sarcasm at the expense of her mischievous
nephew.

"It makes my head ache to study," said Jack.

"Perhaps your head is weak, Jack," suggested his father, slyly.

"More than likely," said Rachel, approvingly.

So it was decided that Jack should go to school.

"I'll get even with Aunt Rachel," thought he. "She's always talking
against me, and hectorin' me. See if I don't."

An opportunity for getting even with his aunt did not immediately occur.
At length a plan suggested itself to our hero. He shrewdly suspected
that his aunt's single blessedness, and her occasional denunciations
of the married state, proceeded from disappointment.

"I'll bet she'd get married if she had a chance," he thought. "I mean
to try her, anyway."

Accordingly, with considerable effort, aided by a school-fellow, he
concocted the following letter, which was duly copied and forwarded
to his aunt's address:

"DEAR GIRL: Excuse the liberty I have taken in writing to you;
but I have seen you often, though you don't know me; and you are
the only girl I want to marry. I am not young--I am about your age,
thirty-five--and I have a good trade. I have always wanted to be
married, but you are the only one I know of to suit me. If you think
you can love me, will you meet me in Washington Park, next Tuesday,
at four o'clock? Wear a blue ribbon round your neck, if you want to
encourage me. I will have a red rose pinned to my coat.

"Don't say anything to your brother's family about this. They may not
like me, and they may try to keep us apart. Now be sure and come.
DANIEL."


This letter reached Miss Rachel just before Jack went to school one
morning. She read it through, first in surprise, then with an appearance
of pleasure.

"Who's your letter from, Aunt Rachel?" asked Jack, innocently.

"Children shouldn't ask questions about what don't concern 'em," said
his aunt.

"I thought maybe it was a love letter," said he.

"Don't make fun of your aunt," said his father, reprovingly.

"Jack's question is only a natural one," said Rachel, to her brother's
unbounded astonishment. "I suppose I ain't so old but I might be married
if I wanted to."

"I thought you had put all such thoughts out of your head long ago,
Rachel."

"If I have, it's because the race of men are so shiftless," said his
sister. "They ain't worth marrying."

"Is that meant for me?" asked the cooper, good-naturedly.

"You're all alike," said Rachel, tossing her head.

She put the letter carefully into her pocket, without deigning any
explanation.

"I suppose it's from some of her old acquaintances," thought her
brother, and he dismissed the subject.

As soon as she could, Rachel took refuge in her room. She carefully
locked the door, and read the letter again.

"Who can he be?" thought the agitated spinster. "Do I know anybody of
the name of Daniel? It must be some stranger that has fallen in love
with me unbeknown. What shall I do?"

She sat in meditation for a short time. Then she read the letter again.

"He will be very unhappy if I frown upon him," she said to herself,
complacently. "It's a great responsibility to make a fellow being
unhappy. It's a sacrifice, I know, but it's our duty to deny ourselves.
I don't know but I ought to go and meet him."

This was Rachel's conclusion.

The time was close at hand. The appointment was for that very afternoon.

"I wouldn't have my brother or Martha know it for the world," murmured
Rachel to herself, "nor that troublesome Jack. Martha's got some blue
ribbon, but I don't dare to ask her for it, for fear she'll suspect
something. No, I must go out and buy some."

"I'm goin' to walk, Martha," she said, as she came downstairs.

"Going to walk in the forenoon! Isn't that something unusual?"

"I've got a little headache. I guess it'll do me good," said Rachel.

"I hope it will," said her sister-in-law, sympathetically.

Rachel went to the nearest dry-goods store, and bought a yard of blue
ribbon.

"Only a yard?" inquired the clerk, in some surprise.

"That will do," said Rachel, nervously, coloring a little, as though the
use which she designed for it might be suspected.

She paid for the ribbon, and presently returned.

"Does your head feel any better, Rachel?" asked Mrs. Harding.

"A little," answered Rachel.

"You've been sewing too steady lately, perhaps?" suggested Martha.

"Perhaps I have," assented Rachel.

"You ought to spare yourself. You can't stand work as well as when you
were younger," said Martha, innocently.

"A body'd think I was a hundred by the way you talk," said Rachel,
sharply.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Rachel. I thought you might feel as I do.
I get tired easier than I used to."

"I guess I'll go upstairs," said Rachel, in the same tone. "There isn't
anybody there to tell me how old I am gettin'."

"It's hard to make Rachel out," thought Mrs. Harding. "She takes offense
at the most innocent remark. She can't look upon herself as young, I am
sure."

Upstairs Rachel took out the letter again, and read it through once
more. "I wonder what sort of a man Daniel is," she said to herself. "I
wonder if I have ever noticed him. How little we know what others think
of us! If he's a likely man, maybe it's my duty to marry him. I feel I'm
a burden to Timothy. His income is small, and it'll make a difference of
one mouth. It may be a sacrifice, but it's my duty."

In this way Rachel tried to deceive herself as to the real reason which
led her to regard with favoring eyes the suit of this supposed lover
whom she had never seen, and about whom she knew absolutely nothing.

Jack came home from school at half-past two o'clock. He looked roguishly
at his aunt as he entered. She sat knitting in her usual corner.

"Will she go?" thought Jack. "If she doesn't there won't be any fun."

But Jack, whose trick I am far from defending, was not to be
disappointed.

At three o'clock Rachel rolled up her knitting, and went upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later she came down dressed for a walk.

"Where are you going, Aunt Rachel?" asked Jack.

"Out for a walk," she answered, shortly.

"May I go with you?" he asked, mischievously.

"No; I prefer to go alone," she said, curtly.

"Your aunt has taken a fancy to walking," said Mrs. Harding, when her
sister-in-law had left the house. "She was out this forenoon. I don't
know what has come over her."

"I do," said Jack to himself.

Five minutes later he put on his hat and bent his steps also to
Washington Park.




CHAPTER XI

MISS HARDING'S MISTAKE


Miss Rachel Harding kept on her way to Washington Park. It was less than
a mile from her brother's house, and though she walked slowly, she got
there a quarter of an hour before the time.

She sat down on a seat near the center of the park, and began to look
around her. Poor Rachel! her heart beat quicker than it had done for
thirty years, as she realized that she was about to meet one who wished
to make her his wife.

"I hope he won't be late," she murmured to herself, and she felt of the
blue ribbon to make sure that she had not forgotten it.

Meanwhile Jack reached the park, and from a distance surveyed with
satisfaction the evident nervousness of his aunt.

"Ain't it rich?" he whispered to himself.

Rachel looked anxiously for the gentleman with the red rose pinned to
his coat.

She had to wait ten minutes. At last he came, but as he neared her seat,
Rachel felt like sinking into the earth with mortification when she
recognized in the wearer a stalwart negro. She hoped that it was a mere
chance coincidence, but he approached her, and raising his hat
respectfully, said:

"Are you Miss Harding?"

"What if I am?" she demanded, sharply. "What have you to do with me?"

The man looked surprised.

"Didn't you send word to me to meet you here?"

"No!" answered Rachel, "and I consider it very presumptuous in you to
write such a letter to me."

"I didn't write you a letter," said the negro, astonished.

"Then what made you come here?" demanded the spinster.

"Because you wrote to me."

"I wrote to you!" exclaimed Rachel, aghast.

"Yes, you wrote to me to come here. You said you'd wear a blue ribbon on
your neck, and I was to have a rose pinned to my coat."

Rachel was bewildered.

"How could I write to you when I never saw you before, and don't know
your name. Do you think a lady like me would marry a colored man?"

"Who said anything about that?" asked the other, opening his eyes wide
in astonishment. "I couldn't marry, nohow, for I've got a wife and four
children."

Rachel felt ready to collapse. Was it possible that she had made a
mistake, and that this was not her unknown correspondent, Daniel?

"There is some mistake," she said, nervously. "Where is that letter you
thought I wrote? Have you got it with you?"

"Here it is, ma'am."

He handed Rachel a letter addressed in a small hand to Daniel Thompson.

She opened it and read:

"Mr. Thompson: I hear you are out of work. I may be able to give
you a job. Meet me at Washington Park, Tuesday afternoon, at four
o'clock. I shall wear a blue ribbon round my neck, and you may have
a red rose pinned to your coat. Otherwise I might not know you.

"RACHEL HARDING."


"Some villain has done this," said Rachel, wrathfully. "I never wrote
that letter."

"You didn't!" said Daniel, looking perplexed. "Who went and did it,
then?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to have him punished for it," said Rachel,
energetically.

"But you've got a blue ribbon," said Mr. Thompson. "I can't see through
that. That's just what the letter said."

"I suppose somebody wrote the letter that knew I wear blue. It's all a
mistake. You'd better go home."

"Then haven't you got a job for me?" asked Daniel, disappointed.

"No, I haven't," said Rachel, sharply.