At last nurse came in with her bonnet and cloak, and said:  “Miss Clara, I am going away to my own cottage, and as you have always been a kind, good child, you shall go with me, and I will take care of you.”

Then Clara said, “Thank you; but will you not take Charles also?”

“No,” said nurse; “he has always been such a proud bad boy that I will not take him.  I have very little to spare, for I am a poor woman, and what I have is not more than will keep my own children and you, Miss Clara.”

Saying this, she got into the cart, and took Clara on her lap, and one of the footmen got in after her, and drove away from the door.

Charles stood on the step of the door, and looked after them till they were out of sight; and then he began to cry as if his heart would break.  The servant of the gentleman who had purchased the house came and locked the door, so Charles could not get in any more, and he sat down on the stone steps, and covered his face with his hands, and cried bitterly.

“Unhappy child that I am,” sobbed he; “what will become of me?  Oh, if I had but been good like Clara, I should have found a friend, as she has; but no one cares what becomes of me, because I have been so wicked.  I used to despise the poor, and God, to punish me, has made me poor indeed.”

It was very cold, and the snow began to fall fast, and it grew quite dark.  Charles rested his head on his knees, and was afraid to look round; his clothes were almost wet through, and his limbs were benumbed with cold; he had no place where he could ask shelter, for no one loved him; and he thought he should be obliged to stay there all night, and perhaps be frozen to death.

Just then some one softly touched his hand, and said:  “Master Charles, I have been looking for you for more than an hour.”

Charles looked up; but when he saw it was Giles Bloomfield who had come to seek him in his distress, he remembered how ill he had behaved to him, so he hid his face, and began to weep afresh.

Then Giles sat down by him on the steps, and said:  “Dear Master Charles, you must not stay here.  See how fast it snows.  You will catch your death of cold.”

“Yes, I am very cold and hungry,” sobbed Charles, “but I have no home now; I have nowhere else to go, and must stay here all night.”

“No, Master Charles,” said Giles, “you shall come home with me, and shall share my supper and my bed, though it is not such as you have been used to; notwithstanding we are very poor, we will do our best to make you comfortable.”

“Oh, Giles!” said Charles, throwing his arms round Giles’s neck, “I do not deserve this kindness; I have been such a proud, wicked boy, and have treated you so ill.  I am sure you can never forgive me for having taken your pretty Snowball; and if you forgive me, I can never forgive myself.”

“Dear Master Charles, do not think of that now,” said Giles, taking both Charles’s cold hands in his.  “Indeed, Master Charles, I should never dare say my prayers if I was so wicked as to bear malice; and, now you are in distress, I would do anything in my power to serve you.  So pray come home with me, and warm yourself, and get some supper.”