Prone upon the floor beside it sat Andy, whispering to the little one and weeping for "poor old Dick, who would mourn for his lost boy." Andy was very sorry, and to one who saw him that day, and, ignorant of the circumstances, asked what was the matter that he looked so solemn, he answered sadly, "I have just lost my little uncle that I wanted to stand sponsor for.

He only lived a day," and Andy's tears flowed afresh as he thought of all he had lost with the child whose life numbered scarcely twenty-four hours in all.

But that was enough to warrant its being now among the spirits of the Redeemed, and heaven seemed fairer, more desirable to Andy than it had done before.

His father was there with Daisy and his baby uncle, as he persisted in calling Ethelyn's dead boy until James told him better, and pointed out the ludicrousness of the mistake.

To Ethelyn Andy was tender as a mother, when at last they let him see her, and his lips left marks upon her forehead and cheek.
She was perfectly conscious now, and when told they had sent for Richard, manifested a good deal of interest, and asked when he would probably be there.