George was about moving away, when observing a little old-fashioned looking book lying upon one of the boxes, he took it up and turning to the fly-leaf read the name of "Frank Howard." "Frank Howard! Frank Howard!" he repeated; "where have I heard that name?
Who is he, Bender ?" "He was a little English boy I once, loved very much; but he is dead now," answered Billy; and George, with a suddenly awakened curiosity, said, "Tell me about him and his family, will you ?" Without dreaming that George had ever seen them, Billy told the story of Frank's sickness and death,--of the noble conduct of his little sister, who, when there was no other alternative, went cheerfully to the poor-house, winning by her gentle ways the love of those unused to love, and taming the wild mood of a maniac until she was harmless as a child.

As he proceeded with his story, George became each moment more and more interested, and when at last there was a pause, he asked, "And is Mary in the poor-house now ?" "I have not mentioned her name, and pray how came you to know it ?" said Billy in some surprise.
In a few words George related the particulars of his acquaintance with the Howards, and then again asked where both Mary and Ella were.
Billy replied that for a few years back Mary had lived with a Mrs.
Mason, while Ella, at the time of her mother's death had been adopted by Mrs.Campbell.

"But," said he, "I never think of Ella in connection with Mary, they are so unlike; Ella is proud and vain and silly, and treats her sister with the utmost rudeness, though Mary is far more agreeable and intelligent, and as I think the best looking." "She must have changed very much," answered George; "for if I remember rightly, she was not remarkable for personal beauty." "She hasn't a silly, doll baby's face, but there isn't a finer looking girl in Chicopee, no, nor in Boston either," returned Billy, with so much warmth and earnestness that George laughed aloud, saying, "Why, really, Bender, you are more eloquent on the subject of female beauty than I supposed you to be; but go on; tell me more of her.

Is she at all refined or polished ?" "I dare say she would not meet with _your_ ideas of a lady," answered Billy; "but she does mine exactly, for she possesses more natural refinement and delicacy than two thirds of the city belles." "Really, I am getting quite interested in her," said George.

"How is her education ?" "Good, very good," returned Billy, adding that she was now teaching in Rice Corner, hoping to earn money enough to attend some seminary in the fall.
"Teaching!" repeated George; "why she can't be over sixteen." He was going to say more, when some one slapped him rudely on the shoulder, calling out, "How are you, old feller, and what is there in Boston to interest such a scapegrace as I am ?" Looking up, Billy saw before him Henry Lincoln, exquisitely dressed, but bearing in his appearance evident marks of dissipation.
"Why, Henry," exclaimed George, "how came you here?
I supposed you were drawing lampblack caricatures of some one of the tutors in old Yale.