spitals. She took Viola with her,
and as they walked by the white beds, the child held her mother's hand
tightly, and felt quite subdued at the pale, sick faces about her. But
suddenly she bounded away, and climbing on a little bed, cried,--

"O, I've found him! here he is--my dear Nino."

Nino--for it was he--shrank back into his pillows, and covering his
face with his hands, cried aloud. From the station-house he had been
taken to the hospital, where his foot had to be amputated, and he had
lain for several days, with a bandaged head, in great pain. His guitar
was lost, and he had been so lonely, though the nurses were kind, that
at the sight of Viola his fortitude gave way.

"Don't cry, and don't be frightened," said Viola, kissing him, and
taking her handkerchief to wipe his tears. "I love you, dear Nino, and
now I've found you."

"Is this your Nino, Viola?" asked her mother, while the nurses and
other patients looked on with surprise.

"Yes, mamma; is he not pretty?" and she tried to remove his hands.

When he was a little more composed, Viola's mother thanked and praised
him for saving her daughter's life, and persuaded him to tell her what
he knew about himself. And the nurses told how patient he had been,
and she gave him some fruit, and promised to come again. When Viola
bade him good by, she put her arms about his neck and kissed him, and
they left him quite happy.

A few days after they came again, and Viola cried when she saw him.

"You are going to come and live with us, and be my brother."

"If you would like to," said her mother; and Nino's eyes sparkled with
joy at the thought.

Then he was carefully laid in the carriage, and taken to his beautiful
new home. More than he had ever dreamed, or fancied, came to
him--books, pictures, toys, kind care, love, and a fine new guitar,
with the promise of learning to play it better. An artificial foot was
to help him walk, and the wonders and delights of his home ever
multiplied.

Best of all was his sister Viola. He almost worshipped her; and it was
a long time before he could bring himself to treat her with any
familiarity. When she caressed him, which was often,--for she loved
him dearly, and he was a lovable boy,--he always kissed her hands. One
day she shook her head at this, and said,--

"Nino, that is not the way; kiss me good;" and she turned her face,
with its rosy mouth, towards him.

With reverence, as if he was saluting a queen, Nino lea