One spiritualized to follow the hope of so small a shade would have seen turning back from a company of spirits, then advancing into the radiant distances, the form of a child--a boy-soul of some nine years. With an odd, slithering sort of walk, he retraced his steps. Now and then he would stop and, shading his eyes, would peer in the general direction of the Mystery Gate. He, too, appeared to be listening and looking. Although Jack Cabot still limped, he had out-progressed any pain of consciousness over his deformity. Knowing that except for the imperfect union of his parents, he would have been born perfect in love, he believed that the visible of him would be straightened at his second birth. Adjudged an innocent offspring of righteousness, he had been unhampered by the curse of the world; indeed, had been given benefit of every doubt. His movements had gained freedom and his features had beautified. On closer view, however, his expression showed to be disconsolate. His sigh was repeated in that of another back-gazing _manes_ whom he passed. “Don’t you belong to anybody, too?” Jack asked him. “Mors told me I was assigned to bliss. I walk so much easier now, I know I ought to go on. But, oh, I am so lonely!” “I know. I know”--the stranger-shade. “It is hard to be blissful alone.” At the moment Jack espied the tiny yellow creature fluttering toward him. An eager chirp started him toward it, at first hesitantly, then as fast as he could go. Thus met the two passionate spirits which had been caged together on Earth--the one passionate in his resentment, the other in the determination, instinct, or whatsoever may be called the will of a bird, to teach the joy of life. In his hurry, Jack stumbled and fell, both hands outstretched. Into them flew the yellow mite; twittered ecstatically; billed the boyish lips that quivered into sobs and laughter. “You look like--You _are_! Oh, Dick, you flew into the Light after me? You have been hunting for me? I’m ashamed of the way I used to treat you, Dickie bird. But you understand now, don’t you, that it was only because I didn’t ’preciate that there’s a heart in every living thing, sometimes the biggest in the littlest? I had my eyes so set on a dog that I didn’t see how precious you were! I wonder did the gold-fish like me, too? It means something when a boy’s bird will die to follow him. I’m ashamed, Dick. Honest, I’m awful ashamed.” The canary’s response was a burst of the song which he had not sung when sitting upon the spruce tree, bereft of companionship although in the company of so many of his kind. Perched upon the boy-shade’s shoulder, he revealed his secret in sound. Higher and freer and more poignantly sweet than ever fluted songster of Earth, he gave out on the Elysian air the theme of selfless love.