And during these midnight musings he seemed to see two lily-white hands beckoning him to come somewhere; he knew not where.

These hands he readily recognized as the hands of his own baby Rose, who had gone from him one day near the close of her fifth summer.

Mentally he found himself again at the bedside of his darling Rose.

He saw again her ruddy cheeks glow with fever and heard the tremble of her voice as she said, "Daddy's Rose is going to heaven.

Daddy come some day." Again he saw the death-glare in the sky-blue eyes when the little soul flitted away.