The poor woman received them kindly, and offered chairs.  Faith took into her lap the younger child from the floor on which it was sitting, gnawing a crust of brown bread, and began to talk to him.  The round eyes of the boy expressed his astonishment, but as he looked into the loving face and heard more of the sweet voice, the alarm he at first felt at the approach of the stranger subsided, and he smiled with the confiding innocence which children return to the caresses of those who are fond of them.

“Jimmy doesn’t know what a loss he’s had,” said Mrs. Sill.

“Jimmy will grow up to take care of his mother bye and bye, and repay her for some of her trouble, won’t he?” said Faith, addressing the boy.

“O, Josiah and Jimmy are my only comfort,” said the widow—­“now that he’s gone.  I don’t know what I should do without them, I’m sure.”

Mr. Armstrong had called the elder boy, Josiah, to his side, and the little fellow had quickly become familiar enough to play with his gold watch-chain.  Seeing it pleased the child, he took the watch and held it to his ear, at which the countenance of the boy became radiant with delight.  “O, Jimmy,” he cried, “it talks.”

Mr. Armstrong released the watch into the hands of Josiah, who ran with it to his brother.

“He will drop it,” exclaimed Mrs. Sill, starting forward, taking the watch from the hands of the disappointed boy, and offering it to Mr. Armstrong.

“Keep it,” he said, “for Josiah, to associate me, when he grows up, with his father’s death.”

“You don’t mean to give away your gold watch?” said Mrs. Sill, still holding it out towards him.

“Yes, Mrs. Sill,” said Mr. Armstrong, “I intended it for him:  I would give him all I have if I could thereby restore his father to life.”

This observation renewed in full force the sorrow of the poor woman.  She sank back into a chair, and covering her face with her apron, sobbed and wept bitterly.

Faith looked at her father with an expression which seemed to say—­do not refer to the cause of her grief.  Armstrong understood the appeal, but he had that in his mind which was unknown to his daughter, and after a pause he proceeded.

“I have more property than I deserve, and what better use can I put it to than give it to the deserving?  You will find in that,” he continued, handing a paper to the widow, “what will entitle you to a little income during your life.  I hope it will enable you to take better care of your children.”

Mrs. Sill took the paper mechanically, and gazed upon without opening it or imagining the extent of the gift.  She kept turning it round and round in her fingers, as if not knowing what to do with it.

“Everybody knows you’re a kind man, and as generous as you’re rich, Mr. Armstrong;” at last she said, “But I guess I shant want anything long in this world.”

“I hope you may live long yet,” said Mr. Armstrong, “for the sake of the little boys.”