It wasn't poison next time. It was a kite. Carlo had flown it from his own roof and had brought the twine down in his teeth, and had passed the ball through the netting to the Tiger. Oh, the thrill of ecstasy running up her arm, to spread and glow on live wires through every nerve, as she felt for the first time the tug and tremor of the beautiful, soaring, captive thing swaying far, far above her, higher than the highest roof-top she could see, higher than the biggest mountain in her geography, as high as the vanished cloud whence the beneficent angel of her happy drama had descended to brighten a hitherto correct and humdrum existence. Alas for angels' visits! From a bench in Our Square, nurse saw the aerial messenger and traced the string to the Varick roof. She hurried home and upstairs to the roof-top a good twenty minutes before her scheduled return. But the scuttle stuck, and Carlo's quick ear, catching the sound, warned him. With a quick word to his playfellow, he dodged behind the chimney and began to climb the looped rope. There was a little space in which the climber always emerged above the chimney into the view of the child in the cage before he surmounted the coping of the upper roof. Paula's eyes were fixed upon this point. The nurse's glance followed hers. Carlo appeared, climbing in hot haste. He missed one of the loops. There was a muffled cry. His body turned, swayed, and plunged down into the fifty-foot abyss between the two buildings. The nurse, scared out of her senses, rushed down the scuttle-way and hid in her room, accusing herself of being an involuntary murderess, while poor Paula tore and battered with her tender fingers at the cruel iron meshes in a passion of grief and despair, long after nurse had disappeared. A low call from above stopped her. Her angel leaned over the roof. “Has she gone?” he asked. The child nodded in silent terror and wonder. He came down the rope swiftly and steadily. When he approached the cage, she saw that he was bleeding from a gash above his temple. “I struck on a clothesline,” he said. “It tipped me into a balcony. Just below your roof. Lucky!” “I thought you were killed,” she whispered. “Oh, Angel, I thought you were dead.” “Not hurt a bit,” he averred valiantly. “Did she see me?” “Yes.” “Then they won't let me come any more.” “They'll take me away,” wailed the Tiger. There was a pause. “I'll be sorry,” said the boy. “So'll I.” “I'll be aw'f'ly sorry,” said the boy painfully. “So'll I.” “I'll come and find you when I'm grown up.” “Will you?” she cried eagerly. “Cross my heart.” “And I'll keep your gum forevern--evern--ever,” she promised solemnly. “I've got a piece yet. Hidden. Listen. Somebody's coming!” “Good-bye, Tiger,” said the boy. “Good-bye, Angel,” said the girl. She put her trembling little lips against the cold mesh of the wires. For a moment he hesitated in boyish shamefacedness. Then he bent over to her.