She felt a warm breath on the hand that still held Roy’s, and, looking down, she saw the mongrel dog, who had broken away from the apple-stand and followed her. He licked her hand, and her tears fell on his head. As she put her arms round him, she felt that he was now her only friend. The men who carried poor Roy away pushed her roughly aside, and in a bewildered way she followed the dog, who seemed trying to lead her to the apple-woman. When Aunt Betsy saw the dog, she gave Janet an apple for bringing him back. But Janet could not eat it, though she had had nothing all day. She tried to tell the woman about Roy, but the words would not come. Death, to Janet, meant only the agony of separation. An hour ago, she had Roy with her—and now he was not with her. This was all there was in it to the poor child—nothing beyond, no hope of meeting again. Is it to be wondered at? Uneducated, she knew nothing but her toiling daily life. She had never been in a church but that one Christmas night, and so had learned nothing through that channel of a life beyond. When Roy’s dying lips murmured “Good-by, Janet!” it was forever. No home, no books, no intelligence in her life, she was but little above the plane of her only friend, the dog. To others, death is but the change from darkness to light. But to Janet and to the dog it meant the end. She was only so much above the dumb brute that she could look into life a little farther, and so could suffer more. A newsboy came along and told the apple-woman the tale Janet was unable to tell. She was shocked for the moment, for she had in her rough way liked Roy. But the hard, business part of her nature was uppermost in a little while. Here she was with this child on her hands. When Janet could sell nothing, as was often the case, Roy generally had a few cents to give her, so she had always felt that she was sure of some little pay for the poor shelter she gave the child. But now the case was different, and so she told Janet in no gentle way: “You must get away from here.” “Where?” asked Janet in a bewildered tone. “Oh, I don’t know. Go to some of the s’cieties, or to that Bishop as gave you them old ragged stockings you think so much of.” “I can’t,” said the girl, despairingly. “I don’t know where to find him.” “Well,” said the woman, “you can stay here to-night, and I’ll give you a bit to eat in the morning before you go.” Janet cried all night for her companion, for she knew that in the morning she would not hear his voice calling the papers. Roy was gone from her—had he not said “Good-by” to her? The dog slept beside her on the floor, and tried in every way he knew to comfort her, as he felt her tears fall upon his head. While the old woman slept, he stole to the box and brought Janet an apple in his mouth. Somehow his kindness comforted her; she dried her tears and kissed his shaggy head. For his sake she ate the apple and tried, but in vain, to sleep.