Poor cook departed, leaving the mince-pie on a chair by Kitty’s bed. As she reached the door she looked round, and murmured: “Poor little dear, she doesn’t mean to be unkind to old cooksie-coaxy.” Toss! toss! went Kitty again as soon as she was left alone. She had never been so wakeful. It was as if some little creature was sitting on her pillow and talking to her. It was not a real voice; it was her memory that was wide awake. “You have teased Johnnie,” it said. “He is so helpless. And how often when he has asked for his treasures you have brought him rulers, books, all sorts of things he did not want. Did you see the gush of tears in his eyes when you continued to tease, and when you ceased, the grateful, forgiving little lips put up to kiss you?” As Kitty listened she tossed about even more restlessly. Presently the voice that was her memory went on again: “There was that peach last summer; your mother gave it you to share with Johnnie. You gave him the smaller half; you kept the bigger one for yourself.” Kitty tried not to hear, but the voice went on speaking: “How often you have run out to amuse yourself and left him pining alone. Do you remember that day when the Punch and Judy man brought his show into the garden, how impatient you were? Tap! tap! his eager little crutch could scarcely follow you. You dropped his hand suddenly and he fell to the ground. What a piteous, helpless little heap he looked. He could not raise himself; but when you lifted him he stroked your cheek and said: ‘Never mind, Kitsie,’ and he never told. Do you remember how pale he looked all day, as if he were in pain?” Kitty could not bear listening to that voice any longer, so she sat up in bed. And there, on the wall opposite, there seemed written in the moonlight what the doctor had said: “If he pulls through to-night.” Did it mean that Johnnie might die to-night? She must see Johnnie—she must. She would be so gentle, so good. If he would only get well again she would never tease him again—she would never be impatient—she would always be good to him. She would put aside all her money and buy toys for him to put into his treasure-box. If they would only let her in she would creep into his room, sit by his bedside, and hold his hand. She would tell him the story of the “Blue Rose,” which she had invented out of her own head and which he liked so much. Kitty now went over the story to herself.