urchin, holding out a cent, and pointing to the gingerbread figure that had attracted his notice, as he loitered along to school; “the one that has not a broken foot.”

So Hepzibah put forth her lank arm, and, taking the effigy from the shop-window, delivered it to her first customer.

“No matter for the money,” said she, giving him a little push towards the door; for her old gentility was contumaciously squeamish at sight of the copper coin, and, besides, it seemed such pitiful meanness to take the child’s pocket-money in exchange for a bit of stale gingerbread. “No matter for the cent. You are welcome to Jim Crow.”

The child, staring with round eyes at this instance of liberality, wholly unprecedented in his