now;" and Walter pressed it on the boy, but he only took a little,
saying he had not much need of food and loved to see them eat far
better.

So in the cheery blaze of the rekindled fire, Bess and Walter broke
their long fast, and never saw how eagerly Jamie gathered up the
scattered crumbs, nor heard him murmur softly, as he watched them
with loving eyes,--

"There will be no cold nor hunger up in heaven, but enough for
all,--enough for all."

"Walter, you'll be kind to Bess when I am not here?" he whispered
earnestly, as his friend came to draw his bed within the ruddy
circle of the firelight gleaming on the floor.

"I will, Jamie, kinder than a brother," was the quick reply. "But
why ask me that with such a wistful face?"

The boy did not answer, but turned on his pillow and kissed his
sister's shadow as it flitted by.

Gray dawn was in the sky before they spoke again. Bess slept the
deep, dreamless sleep of utter weariness, her head pillowed on her
arms. Walter sat beside the bed, lost in sweet and bitter musings,
silent and motionless, fancying the boy slept. But a low voice broke
the silence, whispering feebly.

"Walter, will you take me in your strong arms and lay me on my
little couch beside the window? I should love to see the cross