t me. I had to do it, Davy, I had to tell;
there wasn't no other way to keep you from being a thief. I'm sorry to
leave you alone, Davy, but I guess mother wants me in Heaven. You know
the doctor said I'd be going soon anyway. Mother said she'd be waitin'
for you and me and I guess she wants me now. I'm sorry to leave you, but
I'm afeared I must go. It'll be lonesome for you when I'm gone. You'll
have no one to light the lamp and make the tea for you in the evenings.
You'll come home here at night and it'll be all dark and lonely with no
Patsy to meet you. But remember, David, I'll be lookin' at you from
Heaven. Mother and I'll be waitin' for you there and I'm thinkin' even
Heaven won't be just right till you've come to us. Promise me you'll
come to us some day; promise you'll never go with them wicked men no
more. Let 'em alone or they'll make you as bad as they be, and then you
won't never see mother and me. Promise you'll let 'em alone, Davy;
promise you'll be good and come to us in Heaven some day."

"I promise, kid, I promise," whispered David brokenly. "With God's help
I'll turn over a new leaf and I'll come to you some day."

A smile brightened the pale, pinched face, a smile of absolute content
and trustful affection.

"God bless you, my Davy, God bless you," murmured the faint voice
haltingly. "Good-by--until we meet--in Heaven."

THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE.

I.

One by one the city clocks chimed the hour of midnight. One by one Jane
counted the strokes and sighed despairingly as she glanced at the window
in which the light still burned so brightly. The air was bitter cold, a
fine snow was falling, and she had been trudging up and down, up and
down, for ages it seemed to her. Richard was growing so heavy and her
arms ached so she could scarcely hold him. Still, there was nothing for
it but to tramp up and down, up and down the narrow street, the baby in
her arms, until mother should give the welcome signal. When that lamp in
the window opposite was put out and the house in darkness, she would
know that it was safe for her to creep up the stairs and into the bed in
the kitchen which she shared with the baby brother now sleeping in her
arms.

Seating herself upon a doorstep she was passing, Jane shifted the baby
to a more comfortable position and leaned her head against the rough
woodwork of the tenement house. How tired, she was, how very tired! Her
head ached, her back ached, she ached all over. D