with rheumatic fever.

He lay alone in his room and suffered such
torments as the condemned and rheumatic
know, depending on one of Nora's former
friends to come in twice a day and keep up
the fire for him. This friend was aged ten,
and looked like a sparrow who had been in
a cyclone, but somewhere inside his bones
was a wit which had spelled out devotion.
He found fuel for the cracked stove, some-
how or other. He brought it in a dirty sack
which he carried on his back, and he kept
warmth in Tig's miserable body. Moreover,
he found food of a sort -- cold, horrible bits
often, and Tig wept when he saw them,
remembering the meals Nora had served
him.

Tig was getting better, though he was con-
scious of a weak heart and a lamenting
stomach, when, to his amazement, the Spar-
row ceased to visit him. Not for a moment
did Tig suspect desertion. He knew that
only something in the nature of an act of
Providence, as the insurance companies would
designate it, could keep the little bundle of
bones away from him. As the days went by,
he became convinced of it, for no Sparrow
came, and no coal lay upon the hearth. The