Katrina went to bed that evening at her usual hour, but Jan felt
too troubled to sleep. Seated in his corner, he could see how Glory
Goldie was suffering. That which she had under her was too rough
and coarse. He sat thinking how nice it would be if he could only
make up a bed for the little girl that would feel cool and soft and
smooth.

His shirt, freshly laundered and unused, lay in the bureau drawer.
It hurt him to think of its being there; at the same time he felt
it would hardly be fair to Katrina to use her gift as a sheet for
the child.

However, as it drew on toward midnight and Katrina was sleeping
soundly, he went over to the bureau and took out the shirt. First
he tore away the stiff front, then he slit the shirt into two
parts, whereupon he slipped one piece under the little girl's body,
and spread the other one between the child and the heavy quilt that
covered her.

That done, he stole back to his corner and again took up his vigil.
He had not sat there long when the clock struck twelve. Almost
without thinking of what he was doing he put the two fingers of his
left hand up to his eye, ring fashion, and peeped through at the
bed.

And lo, at the edge of the bed sat a little angel of God! It was
all scratched, and bleeding, from contact with the coarse bedding,
and was about to go away, when it turned and felt of the fine
shirt, running its tiny hands over the smooth white linen. Then, in
a twinkling, it swung its legs inside the edge of the bed and lay