h Frank had made from some rough boards.
Until midnight the little fellow toiled, and then when his work was
done crept softly to the cupboard, there lay one slice of bread, the
only article of food which the house contained. Long and wistfully he
looked at it, thinking how good it would taste; but a glance at the
pale faces near decided him. "They need it more than I," said he, and
turning resolutely away, he prayed that he "might sleep pretty soon
and forget how hungry he was."

Day after day he worked on, and though his cheek occasionally flushed
with anger when of his ragged clothes and naked feet the village boys
made fun, he never returned them any answer, but sometimes when alone
the memory of their thoughtless jeers would cause the tears to start,
and then wiping them away, he would wonder if it was wicked to be poor
and ragged. One morning when he attempted to rise, he felt oppressed
with a languor he had never before experienced, and turning on his
trundlebed, and adjusting his blue cotton jacket, his only pillow, he
again slept so soundly that Mary was obliged to call him twice ere she
aroused him.

That night he came home wild with delight,--he had earned a whole
dollar, and knew how he could earn another half dollar to-morrow. "Oh,
I wish it would come quick," said he, as he related his success to his
mother.

But, alas, the morrow found him burning with fever and when he
attempted to stand, he found it impossible to do so. A case of scarlet
fever had appeared in the village and it soon became evident that the
disease had fastened upon Frank. The morning following the sewing
society Ella Campbell and several other children showed symptoms of
the same disease, and in the season of general sickness which
followed, few were left to care for the poor widow. Daily little Frank
grew worse. The dollar he had earned was gone, the basket of
provisions Mrs. Johnson had sent was gone, and when for milk the baby
Alice cried, there was none to give her.

At last Frank, pulling the old blue jacket from under his head, and
passing it to Mary, said, "Take it to Bill Bender,--he offered me a
shilling for it, and a shilling will buy milk for Allie and crackers
for mother,--take it."

"No, Franky," answered Mary, "you would have no pillow, besides, I've
got something more valuable, which I can sell. I've kept it long, but
it must go to keep us from starving;"--and she held to view the golden
locket, which George Morela