“Things like this,” answered Michael eagerly setting out on the table an earthen pot containing a scarlet geranium in bloom. It glowed forth its brilliant torch at once and gave just the touch to the little empty clean room that Michael had hoped it would do. He stood back and looked at it proudly, and then looked at Sam to see if the lesson had been understood. He half expected to see an expression of scorn on the hardened sallow face of the slum boy, but instead Sam was gazing open-mouthed, with unmitigated admiration. “Say! Dat’s all right!” he ejaculated. “Where’d you make de raise? Say! Dat makes de paper an’ de paint show up fine!” taking in the general effect of the room. Then he arose from the box on which he had been sitting and went and stood before the blossom. “Say! I wisht Jim eud see dat dere!” he ejaculated after a long silence, and there was that in the expression of his face that brought the quick moisture to Michael’s eyes. It was only a common red geranium bought for fifteen cents, but it had touched with its miracle of bright life the hardened soul of the young burglar, and opened his vision to higher things than he had known. It was in this moment of open vision that his heart turned to his old companion who was uncomplainingly taking the punishment which rightfully belonged to the whole gang. “We will take him one tomorrow,” said Michael in a low voice husky with feeling. It was the first time Sam had voluntarily mentioned Jim and he had seemed so loth to take Michael to see him in jail that Michael had ceased to speak of the matter. “There’s another one just like this where I bought this one. I couldn’t tell which to take, they were both so pretty. We’ll get it the first thing in the morning before anybody else snaps it up, and then, when could we get in to see Jim? Would they let us in after my office hours or would we have to wait till Sunday? You look after that will you? I might get off at four o’clock if that’s not too late.” “Dey’ll let us in on Sunday ef _you_ ask, I reckon,” said Sam much moved. “But it’s awful dark in prison. It won’t live, will it? Dere’s only one streak o’ sun shines in Jim’s cell a few minutes every day.” “Oh, I think it’ll live,” said Michael hastily, a strange choking sensation in his throat at thought of his one-time companion shut into a dark prison. Of course, he deserved to be there. He had broken the laws, but then no one had ever made him understand how wrong it was. If some one had only tried perhaps Jim would never have done the thing that put him in prison. “I’m sure it will live,” he said again cheerfully. “I’ve heard that geraniums are very hardy. The man told me they would live all winter in the cellar if you brought them up again in the spring.” “Jim will be out again in de spring,” said Sam softly. It was the first sign of anything like emotion in Sam.