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When the papers were spread out, Mrs. Martin’s two oldest children, who began to understand what was going on, cried bitterly. Mrs. Martin took the pen and was about to sign. But it was necessary to have two witnesses, and so Lampeer took his hat and called a neighbor-woman, for the second witness.

Mrs. Martin delayed the signature as long as she could. But seeing no other help, she took up the pen. She thought of Abraham with the knife in his hand. She hoped that an angel would call out of heaven to her relief. But as there was no voice from heaven, she dipped the pen in the ink.

Just then some one happened to knock at the door, and the poor woman’s nerves were so weak that she let the pen fall, and sank into a chair. Lampeer, who stood near the door, opened it with an impatient jerk, and–did the angel of deliverance enter?

It was only Willie Blake and Sammy Bantam.

VIII.

SHARPS AND BETWEENS.

Let us go back. We left Willie awhile ago puzzling over that twenty-four dollars. After many hours of thought and talk with Sammy about how they should manage it, two gentlemen gave them nine dollars, and so there was but fifteen more to be raised. But that fifteen seemed harder to get than the fifty they had already gotten. At last Willie thought of something. They would try the sewing-machine man. Mr. Sharps would throw off fifteen dollars.

But they did not know Mr. Sharps. Though he made more than fifteen dollars on the machine, he hated to throw anything off. He was always glad to put on. Sammy described him by saying that “Mr. Sharps was not for-giving but he was for-getting.”

They talked; they told the story; they begged. Mr. Sharps really could not afford to throw off a cent. He was poor. Taxes were high. He gave a great deal. (I do not know what he called a great deal. He had been to church three times in a year, and twice he had put a penny in the plate. I suppose Mr. Sharps thought that a great deal. And so it was, for him, poor fellow.) And then the butcher had raised the price of meat; and he had to pay twenty-three dollars for a bonnet for his daughter. Really, he was too poor. So the boys went away down-hearted.

But Sammy went straight to an uncle of his, who was one of the editors of the Thornton Daily Bugle. After a private talk with him he started back to Mr. Sharps. Willie followed Sammy this time. What Sammy had in his head Willie could not make out.

“I’ll fix him!” That was the only word Sammy uttered on the way back.

“Now, Mr. Sharps,” he began, “my uncle’s name is Josiah Penn. Maybe you know him. He’s one of the editors of the Thornton Daily Bugle. I’ve been talking with him. If you let me have a Feeler and Stilson sewing-machine for fifty dollars, I will have a good notice put in the Daily Bugle.”

Mr. Sharps whistles a minute. He thought he could not do it. No, he was too poor.

“Well, then, Willie,” said Sammy, “we’ll go across the street and try the agent of the Hillrocks and Nibbs machine. I think Mr. Betweens will take my offer.”

“O!” said Mr. Sharps, “you don’t want that machine. It’s only a single thread, and it will ravel, and–well–you don’t want that.”

“Indeed, my mother says there isn’t a pin to choose between them,” said Sammy; “and I can give Mr. Betweens just as good a notice as I could give you.”

“Very well; take the machine for fifty dollars. I do it just out of pity for the widow, you know. I never could stand by and see suffering and not relieve it. You won’t forget about that notice in the Daily Bugle, though, will you?”

No, Sammy wouldn’t forget.

It was now the day before Christmas, and the boys thought they had better get the machine down there.