living picture of the father and
mother he was so soon forgetting.

"Don't you remember," he would say, "how papa used to come home in the
evening and take us both on his knees, and sing 'Kingdom Coming' to
us? And how mamma laughed and called him a big boy when he got down on
the floor and played circus with us?

"And don't you remember how we helped mamma make cherry pie for dinner
one day? You were on the doorstep with some dough in your hands, and a
greedy old hen came up and gobbled it right out of your fingers."

Robin would laugh out gleefully at each fresh reminiscence, and then
say: "Tell some more r'members, Big Brother!" And so Big Brother would
go on until a curly head drooped over on his shoulder and a sleepy
voice yawned "Sand-man's a-comin'."

The hands that undressed him were as patient and deft as a woman's. He
missed no care or tenderness.

When he knelt down in his white gown, just where the patch of
moonlight lay on the floor, his chubby hands crossed on Big Brother's
knee, there was a gentle touch of caressing fingers on his curls as
his sleepy voice repeated the evening prayer the far away mother had
taught them.

There was always one ceremony that had to be faithfully performed, no
matter how sleepy he might be. The black dancing bear had always to be
put to bed in a cracker box and covered with a piece of red flannel.

[Illustration]

One night he looked up gravely as he folded it around his treasure and
said, "Robin tucks ze black dancin' bear in bed, an' Big Brother tucks
in Robin. Who puts Big Brother to bed?"

"Nobody, now," answered Steven with a quivering lip, for his child's
heart ached many a night for the lullaby and bedtime petting he so
sorely missed.

"Gramma Deebun do it?" suggested Robin quickly.

"No: Grandma Dearborn has the rheumatism. She couldn't walk
up-stairs."

"She got ze wizzim-tizzim," echoed Robin solemnly. Then his face
lighted up with a happy thought. "Nev' mind; Robin'll put Big Brother
to bed _all_ ze nights when he's a man." And Big Brother kissed the
sweet mouth and was comforted.

During the summer Mr. Dearborn drove to town with fresh marketing
every morning, starting early in order to get home by noon. Saturdays
he took Steven with him, for that was the day he supplied his butter
customers.

The first time the boy made the trip he carried Mrs. Estel's address
in his pocket, which he had carefully copied from the fly-leaf of the
book she had