an amused smile; "I don't like it
much."

"Why then did you play so long without saying that you did not like
it?" Alick asked, much surprised.

"Because you like it. I wanted you to have what you like," Georgie
answered simply; and having put away all the things, he stooped over
Alick and asked him very kindly, nay, I may say very lovingly, if he
thought he should have a better night, if he thought his pain was less
than it had been.

"Yes,--no,--I don't know," Alick said, looking earnestly up into
Georgie's eyes. "But, Georgie, I say, why do you care so much?"

"Because I am so very sorry for you," burst from Georgie's very heart.

"You well may," muttered poor Alick, glancing down at his useless,
shrunken limbs. But this time there was no anger in his thoughts.

"It is not for that, not at all for that," Georgie cried eagerly, as
if guessing that pity for his infirmities might be painful.

"For what then?" Alick asked, looking at him keenly.

"Because you do not know, you do not love God," Georgie answered with
deep feeling. "O Alick, how heartless, how dreary it must be!" and the
tears rose to his eyes, and ran down his cheeks without his knowing
it.

His words, spoken in that tone of intense pity, thrilled Alick to the
heart. This was the meaning of all those looks of tender, yearning
compassion which Georgie so continually cast upon him. And was it then
such a terrible thing not to know God?

Georgie's "how heartless, how dreary!" sounded again in his ears, and
seemed to answer the question. He said nothing to Georgie nor to any
one; but all night long these words came back and back to his mind. He
could not get rid of them. They were pressed down into his heart by
the recollection of all that exceeding tender pity which Georgie's
eyes had so long expressed for him, and of Georgie's loving, patient
kindness, during his illness. And ever deeper and stronger grew the
sense that his life was in truth, and ever had been, more heartless
and dreary than Georgie could imagine.

Next day, when Georgie came to his bedside, Alick looked him full in
the face and said:--

"Georgie, can you teach me to know God?"

You may imagine how Georgie's heart leaped with joy at the question.
Often had he longed to speak to Alick of his God and Saviour, but
hitherto he had been afraid to do it; not afraid of what Alick might
say to or of him, but afraid to hear him speak against the Lord whom
he had so often blasphemed.