ld
without was all a-growing and a-blowing.

"Bring some of the flowers up to this corner," said Jaikie, the lame
boy. And it was not long till Jiminy brought them. The ground was baked
and dry, however, and soon they would have withered, but that Jaikie
issued his commands, and Jiminy ran for pails upon pails of water from
the little burn where now the water had stopped flowing, and only slept
black in the pools with a little green scum over them.

"I can't carry water all night like this," said Jiminy at last. "I
suppose we must give up this wild garden here in the corner of the
orchard."

"No," said Jaikie, rubbing his lame ankle where it always hurt, "we must
not give it up, for it is our very own, and I shall think about it
to-night between the clock-strikes."

For Jaikie used to lie awake and count the hours when the pain was at
the worst. Jaikie now lived at the manse all the time (did I tell you
that before?), for his father was dead.

So in the little room next to Jiminy's, Jaikie lay awake and hearkened
to the gentle breathing of his friend. Jiminy always said when he went
to bed, "I'll keep awake to-night sure, Jaikie, and talk to you."

And Jaikie only smiled a wan smile with a soul in it, for he knew that
as soon as Jiminy's head touched the pillow he would be in the dim and
beautiful country of Nod, leaving poor Jaikie to rub the leg in which
the pains ran races up and down, and to listen and pray for the next
striking of the clock.

As he lay, Jaikie thought of the flowers in the corner of the orchard
thirsty and sick. It might be that they, like him, were sleepless and
suffering. He remembered the rich clove carnations with their dower of a
sweet savour, the dark indigo winking "blueys" or cornflowers, the
spotted musk monkey-flowers, smelling like a village flower-show. They
would all be drooping and sad. And it might be that the ferns would be
dead--all but the hart's-tongue; which, though moisture-loving, can yet,
like the athlete, train itself to endure and abide thirsty and unslaked.
But the thought of their pain worked in Jaikie's heart.

"Maybe it will make me forget my foot if I can go and water them."

So he arose, crawling on his hands and knees down-stairs very softly,
past where Jiminy tossed in his bed, and softer still past the
minister's door. But there was no sound save the creak of the stair
under him.

Jaikie crept to the water-pail, and got the large quart tankard that
hun