that they were planning and plotting against him, so she went to another corner of the room, and contented herself with speaking only when she was spoken to, and not so giving her drunken brother an opportunity for quarrelling with her.

CHAPTER VIII.

WHEN John Graham had fallen fast asleep, his sister Mary resumed her place by little Eddy's side, and took the poor cripple's hand in hers. For a long time they looked at each other, and neither spoke, although they were both thinking of the same thing.

At last the cripple boy squeezed her hand, and pulled her head down to the old rug which, folded up, had long served him for a pillow. "Mary," said he, "I will go to the hospital if any one will take me, but I cannot get there myself." Poor Mary made no answer; for although she had at first proposed the hospital to Eddy, she could hardly bear the thought of his going. "How far is it away?"

"Two long miles," whispered his sister, "but speak lower, for fear of awaking him ;' and she pointed to the bed on which her brother John was snoring heavily.

F

"Two miles!" ejaculated the little boy, and he stopped and thought—" two miles is a long way, I could never get so far."

"I am afraid not; but try to go to sleep, and don't think of it now."

For a few minutes the little fellow was silent, but presently he pulled down his sister's head again, and said, "Mary, I have a thought; isn't there any archway that I could creep into, and rest, and if I start very early in the morning, perhaps I could get there before night?" His sister gave him no answer, for her feelings would not let her speak, and Eddy kissed her again and again, and said: "There, dear sister, don't cry; I'll start to-morrow, and all night long I'll lie awake, and pray that I may have strength to get there before it is dark; for you know," said Eddy, "I should not be safe in the dark streets, people wouldn't mind crushing me, if I couldn't get out of their way. Will you come with me and find out the way? You know I can't reach up to people now to ask them how I'm to go.

There was no way of quieting the cripple boy, now that he had made up his mind, but by promising that he should start on the morrow; and, satisfied with an assurance to this effect from his sister, he persuaded her to go off to bed.

Mary Graham went to bed, but not to sleep. The more she thought, the more diffi

cult did it seem to her to get her brother to the hospital; and at last she felt inclined to give up the idea in despair. In her perplexity, she at length betook herself to prayer, and asked for guidance and strength for the perils of the following day. After her prayer she felt more composed, and lay awake, arranging matters in her mind. Eddy was now so light that she felt sure she could get him down the stairs upon her back; she had taken down a sack of apples for her brother John, which must have been considerably heavier than the thin and half-starved boy. In imagination she had carried him down the stairs, and was about to help him along the street, when a sudden thought darted into her mind. Why not put Eddy in the empty truck? why not wheel him off to the hospital before any one was stirring? If she could manage this, all difficulties would vanish at once. The more she thought over this plan the better it seemed, and at last she fell asleep, to dream of all sorts of adventures on her way to the hospital. At one moment she saw herself followed by a crowd of hooting boys, at another, by a very suspicious-looking policeman; at one moment she found herself entangled in the midst of a team, and the next, she fancied herself and her charge upset by the reckless driving of a drunken cabman. All these troubles, however, happened only in dreams, and she was at last roused up by a

gentle stroking of her face from poor Eddy's thin, cold hand.

Mary Graham slept in a little place which was as like a cupboard as possible, with an old sack or two to make it something like a room by itself, and she quickly started up, on feeling the hand upon her face. Before she had time to be alarmed, she heard Eddy's voice close up to her ear: "Get up, dear Mary, it's time to go; I'm ready, see, I'm dressed." And so he was; the cripple had spent a great part of the night watching his favourite stars, and praying in his own simple way both for guidance and for strength; and at the earliest appearance of daylight he had risen, and, with incredible labour, managed to dress himself. Much, very much had passed that night through the cripple's mind: such as it was, he had hitherto always had a home, and some around who cared for him, but now he was going away, and would soon have none but strange faces about him, and he felt that this would be a change hard to bear. It was a trial, too, to leave his favourite stars; they had often watched with him the live-long night; all that he had to do was to look up, and he could see them shining through the sky-light but he did not know what the hospital was like, and whether he might not, perhaps, be shut out from seeing that shining company any more. So much did this impress poor Eddy Graham's mind, that he bade

:

to me."

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a solemn farewell to those beautiful stars, as they faded away in the twilight of the morning. "Good bye," said Eddy, with the tears in his eyes; you have never refused to shine down on me, and to let me look at you, and to comfort and watch with me the livelong night. Watch over Mary when I am away, and be kind to her as you have been Gradually the stars faded into the twilight, as though they did not like to leave Eddy all at once, and one or two, which always shone out more strongly than the rest, remained behind for a little while, even after the others had gone, as though they would keep him company as long as he remained in the room on which they had looked down so long. It was not until the last star had apparently with reluctance taken its departure, and faded slowly and solemnly away, that Eddy rose from his humble bed. "It is time now," said he, "to go; they have all gone, and the light is getting strong." Then he awoke Mary, who dressed herself as noiselessly as she could, and in a few minutes they were ready to start.

"We must pray before we go," said Eddy Graham, "for God won't take care of us unless we do."

Mary cast a timid glance at the corner where her brother John was lying, his arms flung wildly out at each side and his whole appearance that of a drunken man.