alf what the boy said. He declared
that 't was God's present, anyhow, that trees was; an' that the things
He give us ter look at was jest as much use as the things He give us
ter eat; an' that the stars an' the sunsets an' the snowflakes an' the
little white cloud-boats, an' I don't know what-all, was jest as
important in the Orchestra of Life as turnips an' squashes. An' then,
Billy says, he ended by jest flingin' himself on ter Streeter an'
beggin' him ter wait till he could go back an' git his fiddle so he
could tell him what a beautiful thing that tree was.

"Well, if you'll believe it, old Streeter was so plum befuzzled he sent
the man an' the axe away--an' that tree's a-livin' ter-day--'t is!" he
finished; then, with a sudden gloom on his face, Larson added, huskily:
"An' I only hope I'll be sayin' the same thing of that boy--come next
month at this time!"

"We'll hope you will," sighed the other fervently.

And so one by one the days passed, while the whole town waited and
while in the great airy "parlor bedroom" of the Holly farmhouse one
small boy fought his battle for life. Then came the blackest day and
night of all when the town could only wait and watch--it had lost its
hope; when the doctors shook their heads and refused to meet Mrs.
Holly's eyes; when the pulse in the slim wrist outside the coverlet
played hide-and-seek with the cool, persistent fingers that sought so
earnestly for it; when Perry Larson sat for uncounted sleepless hours
by the kitchen stove, and fearfully listened for a step crossing the
hallway; when Mr. Jack on his porch, and Miss Holbrook in her tower
widow, went with David down into the dark valley, and came so near the
rushing river that life, with its petty prides and prejudices, could
never seem quite the same to them again.

Then, after that blackest day and night, came the dawn--as the dawns do
come after the blackest of days and nights. In the slender wrist
outside the coverlet the pulse gained and steadied. On the forehead
beneath the nurse's fingers, a moisture came. The doctors nodded their
heads now, and looked every one straight in the eye. "He will live,"
they said. "The crisis is passed." Out by the kitchen stove Perry
Larson heard the step cross the hall and sprang upright; but at the
first glimpse of Mrs. Holly's tear-wet, yet radiant face, he collapsed
limply.

"Gosh!" he muttered. "Say, do you know, I didn't s'pose I did care so
much! I reckon I'll go an' tell M