But all pleasant things seem to have an end on earth, and pretty soon these friends were called upon to part. A carriage, drawn by a sleek white horse, and driven by a lady, appeared coming up the road. Frankie recognized his teacher, who was looking anxiously up and down the road, and kissing Fannie Davis good-bye, ran out to meet her; he was lifted into the carriage, and in a few moments whirled from sight. For many long weeks after this day, Fannie talked constantly of her little friend Frankie, and wondered when he would come to see her again; but the weeks deepened into months, the flowers drooped their heads and withered away, leaving only dry, brown seeds, which the little girl carefully gathered and laid away; the leaves drifted from the old oak tree, leaving the branches brown and bare; the robin’s nest was deserted, for all the birds had flown away to a sunnier, warmer clime, to spend the winter; and still Frankie did not come. Fannie could not play out in the garden now, except for a little while on the sunniest days; she missed the morning greeting of her little pet robin sadly, but she liked to think of him as happy in some warmer place, and to look forward to the coming spring, when he would return to the old tree. Mrs. Davis had been growing paler and thinner all summer; a bad cough frequently racked her frame, and distressing pains in the side gave her great uneasiness. It was now a difficult task to carry her work to and fro to the shop in the city; yet she felt it must be done, and there was no one to do it but herself. Upon the scanty proceeds of her toil depended the existence of herself and little one. For herself she did not mind so much; but for her little girl she was all anxiety. A kind-hearted doctor, who lived in the vicinity of the little old brown house, called in occasionally, leaving some dark mixture in a bottle, which the patient woman took with the hope of gaining strength; but the days and weeks flew by, bringing but little relief. Winter was almost at hand; Mrs. Davis had been unable to provide for its approach, and she knew not what to do. At last she had been forced to give up her work. She had but a little wood, flour, and meal in the house; the snow came drifting down, at first very slowly, but soon increased in rapidity, until at last the ground was covered with a carpet so pure and spotless and clear that even angel feet might tread upon it; yet bitterly cold and uncomfortable to the poor, bare, suffering feet of those mortals who are without clothing and fire.