was a
daughter of a dead soldier, comrade to Old G. A. R. Good for nothing
husband, and that sort of thing, you know, and always runnin' to Old G.
A. R. for protection and help too, I suspect. When she died, the old
fellow didn't have the money, and appealed to some of us fellows to help
bury her. And then, it turned out, here was the boy. First we agreed to
his staying at the Armory a day or so, then a week, then longer, and by
that time the knowing little monkey had made his own cause good. Here we
are,--and we'll just arrange, while here, to take a doctor back with
us."

It was late that afternoon that Miss Ruth, having remained to see the
Major safely asleep after his removal to St. Luke's Hospital, came down
the steps of that institution with her pretty eyes all dim with crying,
the doctor's words ringing in her ears, "Poor little chap," he had said,
"it's merely a question of time."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE ANGEL MEETS AN OLD FRIEND.

A few days later Mrs. O'Malligan, in her best attire, and Miss
Bonkowski, also gotten up regardlessly even to an added bloom upon her
cheeks, sallied forth in the face of the first snowfall, to take the
Angel to St. Luke's Hospital, where, by appointment, Miss Ruth was to
meet them.

When in time they reached the building and Miss Stannard led the way up
to the Children's Ward, a white-capped nurse came forward between the
rows of little beds each with its child occupant, her finger on her
lips. "He is so much weaker to-day," she explained, "I would say he had
better not see any one, except that he will fret, so please stay only a
few moments," and she led them to where Joey lay, his white bed shut off
from his little neighbors by a screen. His eyes were closed and a young
resident physician was standing by the bed.

"We thought he was going for a while this morning," whispered the nurse,
but, low as she spoke, the Major heard. A ghost of a twinkle was in his
brown eyes as they opened and sought the doctor's. "I fooled 'em that
time, didn't I, Doc?" he demanded, and one trembling lid attempted its
old-time wink.

"You wanted Angel, Joey dear," said Miss Ruth, "and she has come to see
you."

The Angel's face was full of doubt and trouble, her eyes dark with
gathering tears. Frightened at this something she half-divined, but
could not understand, she drew near doubtfully. "Angel loves her Joey,
her does," she asserted, however, as if in refutation of her fears.

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