ed to sorrow. He wondered if he would die of
his; and he saw himself laid out, stricken, on a barge, attended by
three Queens, who were putting to sea to take him to the Vale of
Avilion.

The picture brought him peace.

There followed one of his thinks. He brought Cis back into the little
room, seated her on her narrow bed, with her slender shoulders leaned
against the excelsior pillow which once she had prized. In her best
dress, which was white, she showed ghostily among the shadows. But he
could see her violet eyes clearly, and the look in them was tender and
loving.

He held out his arms to her.

Somewhere, far off, a bell rang. It was like a summons. The wraith of
his own making vanished. He wiped his eyes, now with one fringed sleeve,
now with the other, stooped and felt round just inside the little room
for his scrap of mattress and the quilt, took them up, softly shut the
door, and turned about.

That same moment the hall door began slowly to open, propelled from
without by an unseen hand. "St!" came a low warning. Next, a dim hand
showed itself, reaching in at the floor level with a large yellow bowl.
It placed the bowl to one side, disappeared, returned again at once with
a goodish chunk of _schwarzbrod_, laid the bread beside the bowl,
traveled up to the outside knob, and drew the door to.

He knew that the dim hand was plump and brown, and that it belonged to
the little Jewish lady, who never yet had been forgetful of him, who was
always prompt with motherly help. He knew that; and yet, as he watched
it all, there was something of a sweet mystery about it, and he was
reminded of that wonderful arm, clothed in white samite, which had come
thrusting up out of the lake to give the sword Excalibur to great King
Arthur.

He did not go to get what had been left (noodles, he guessed, tastily
thickening a broth). Grandpa was already fed for the night, and asleep
in the wheel chair, where Johnnie intended to leave him, not liking to
rap on the bedroom door and disturb Big Tom. As for his own appetite, it
seemed to have deserted him forever.

Noiselessly he put down his bedding beside the table. And it was then
that he made out, by the faint light coming in at the window, the two
dolls, Letitia and Edwarda, huddled together on the oilcloth. Letitia,
small, old, worn out in long service to her departed mistress, had one
sawdust arm thrown across Edwarda. And Edwarda, proud though she was,
and beautiful in he