Looking at Paul’s plain, though neat clothes, the servant was a little puzzled to understand what had obtained for Paul the honor of being on visiting terms with Mrs. Danforth.

“Good evening, Paul,” said Mrs. Danforth, rising from her seat and welcoming our hero with extended hand.  “So you did not forget your appointment.”

“There was no fear of that,” said Paul, with his usual frankness.  “I have been looking forward to coming all day.”

“Have you, indeed?” said the lady with a pleasant smile.

“Then I must endeavor to make your visit agreeable to you.  Do you recognize this desk?”

Upon a table close by, was the desk which had been purchased the day previous, at Appleton’s.

“Yes,” said Paul, “it is the one you bought yesterday.  I think it is very handsome.”

“I am glad you think so.  I think I told you that I intended it for a present.  I have had the new owner’s name engraved upon it.”

Paul read the name upon the plate provided for the purpose.  His face flushed with surprise and pleasure.  That name was his own.

“Do you really mean it for me,” he asked.

“If you will accept it,” said Mrs. Danforth, smiling.

“I shall value it very much,” said Paul, gratefully.  “And I feel very much indebted to your kindness.”

“We won’t talk of indebtedness, for you remember mine is much the greater.  If you will open the desk you will find that it is furnished with what will, I hope, prove of use to you.”

The desk being opened, proved to contain a liberal supply of stationery, sealing wax, postage stamps, and pens.

Paul was delighted with his new present, and Mrs. Danforth seemed to enjoy the evident gratification with which it inspired him.

“Now,” said she, “tell me a little about yourself.  Have you always lived in New York?”

“Only about three years,” said Paul.

“And where did you live before?”

“At Wrenville, in Connecticut.”

“I have heard of the place.  A small country town, is it not?”

Paul answered in the affirmative.

“How did you happen to leave Wrenville, and come to New York?”

Paul blushed, and hesitated a moment.

“I ran away,” he said at length, determined to keep nothing back.

“Ran away!  Not from home, I hope.”

“I had no home,” said Paul, soberly.  “I should never have left there, if my father had not died.  Then I was thrown upon the world.  I was sent to the Poorhouse.  I did not want to go, for I thought I could support myself.”

“That is a very honorable feeling.  I suppose you did not fare very well at the Poorhouse.”

In reply, Paul detailed some of the grievances to which he had been subjected.  Mrs. Danforth listened with sympathizing attention.

“You were entirely justified in running away,” she said, as he concluded.  “I can hardly imagine so great a lack of humanity as these people showed.  You are now, I hope, pleasantly situated?”