Often, in his hours of illness, had he spoken to his parents of little Fannie Davis, telling of the many fine times he meant to have with her when he got well; but now he knew he should never get stronger in this world, and so it was that on this cold December evening, when the snow was flying thick and fast without, and the gentle, subdued light of the sick chamber fell upon the costly furniture, the rosy curtains, the silver ornaments of the mantel, lighting them up with a mellow glow, and shining upon the pallid faces of the anxious parents, Frankie entreated his mother to go for Fannie Davis, and bring her to him. Kind Dr. May, who was in attendance, said he knew the little girl and her poor, sick mamma, and he would go for her himself. But this would not do; nothing would pacify the sick child until his mother promised that in the morning she would go in the sleigh with the good doctor, find Fannie, and bring her to Frankie’s side. “Oh, I am so glad, mamma,” said the child; “there is a nice, tall man here, and he is so glad too. I saw him that day in the garden where Fannie lives; he told me he was Fannie’s father. He says pretty soon Fannie will have no mamma on earth. Do bring her here, mamma, and perhaps when she has no mamma, and you have no little boy, she will be your little girl, and stay with you forever; ’cause I will be will be with the angels; but I will come to see you sometimes.” After this the child fell asleep, and in the morning, when the sun was shining on the freshly-fallen snow, Mrs. Hedge was taken in the doctor’s sleigh to the home of Fannie Davis; and that is how they found the dying woman and the weeping child. Kind, gentle Mrs. Hedge found it impossible to persuade little Fannie to leave her mother’s side; so after the spirit of the suffering woman had passed peacefully away, she was obliged to return to her home, leaving the little girl in charge of a good woman whom the doctor had found to remain with and care for her, until after the funeral of the body of Mrs. Davis; for it is only the body, dear children, that has to be laid away from sight; the real person lives, and is not cold and senseless; but if he or she has been good, happiness is theirs, and they find a beautiful, sweet home in company with their dear friends. Mrs. Davis had met her dear husband and parents, and found a bright home awaiting her, but she had not forsaken nor forgotten her little girl, who was left on the earth seemingly alone.