He poured out all the pennies and nickels in his bank,--ninety-three cents they came to,--and then he got his only store toy, a box of tin soldiers that had been sent to him Christmas, and put that on the table beside the money.

We didn't appear to notice what he was doing.

Presently he brought the mittens his grandmother up in Vermont had knit for him.

Then he waited a bit, and seemed to be weighing something in his mind.

By and by he slipped away to the chest where his Sunday clothes were kept and took them out, new suit, shoes, cap and all, and laid them on the table with the money and the tin soldiers.
"'There, daddy,' he said, 'tell the Red Cross people to send them to some little boy like me, that's been washed out of his home and hasn't anything of toys left, or his clothes.' "I tell you it made a lump come up in my throat to see that the little fellow had taken his very best to pay his debt of gratitude.