and in it, with folded hands and brown hair rolled smoothly back from his
baby forehead, little Johnny lay, asleep. Somebody, with a touch of
tenderness, had placed a just budding rose in the tiny white hand, and
baby looked very sweet and beautiful in his narrow bed. Poor little
Johnny! his had been a sad, neglected babyhood; many weary hours had he
spent in his cradle, receiving only cross looks from Kitty, and neglected
by the mother, who, though she loved Johnny, and even because she loved
him, must leave him to work for her daily bread. But it was all over now:
Johnny's cries would never disturb them again; Johnny's weary little body
rested quietly in its coffin; Johnny's precious self was gathered in the
Saviour's arms.

Tip came out of the bedroom, and softly approached the coffin; his hair,
too, was partly combed, and some attempt had been made to put his ragged
clothes in order. His heart swelled, and the tears gathered in his eyes,
as they rested on the baby.

Tip loved his little brother, and though he had not had much to do with
him, yet he had this much to comfort him,--Johnny had received only
kindness and good-natured words from him, which was more than Kitty could
say. As she stood there in the door, it seemed to her that every time she
had ever said cross, naughty words to the poor baby, or turned away from
his pitiful cry for comfort, or shook his little helpless self, came back
to her now,--stood all around his coffin, and looked straight at her.
Poor Kitty thought if he could _only_ come back to them for a little
while, she would hold him in her arms all night, without a murmur.

People began to come in now from the lowly houses about them, and fill
the empty chairs. Mrs. Lewis came out from the bedroom, and sat down
beside the arm-chair, thankful that her tear-stained face and swollen