the room they entered was much more neat and clean than johnny had expected to find it, and there was even some attempt at decoration, in the way of picture cards and show bills tacked upon the dingy walls. a stove, whose old age and infirmities were concealed by much stove-blacking, held a cheerful little fire, and the panes of the one window were bright and clear. the bed, which looked unpleasantly hard, and was scantily furnished, had been pulled to a place between the fire and the window, and taffy, sitting up against a skilfully arranged chair-back and two thin pillows, looked eagerly towards the door as it opened. the sharp, thin little face brightened with a smile, as he saw jim, but he did not speak.

“taffy,” said jim, gently, “here’s johnny leslie. he’s come to see you, and read to you a little bit. he’s miss tiny’s brother, you know, and mrs. leslie’s son. won’t you shake hands with him?”

taffy held out his hand, nodding to johnny with much friendliness.

“oh, yes,” he said, in a voice so low and hoarse that johnny bent nearer to catch his meaning. “i’ll shake hands with him; i thought it was some strange boy, but that’s different.”

“and see,” continued jim, opening the basket, and setting out the things upon a rough pine table, which held a pitcher of water and a tumbler, two or three medicine bottles, a very small orange, and a big red apple, which johnny recognized; he had given it to jim a day or two ago. the little fellow’s eyes sparkled as he saw the pretty eatables come out of the basket, one after another, and he stroked the glass which held the bright-colored jelly, saying hoarsely,—

“that’s pretty, that is. his folks must be rich,” and he nodded toward johnny.

“i must go now,” jim said, not noticing this last remark of taffy’s, “but johnny will stay awhile, and after that it won’t be long till i’m home. be a good boy, and don’t bother johnny; he’s not used to you like i am.”

jim went, with a very friendly goodbye; and johnny was left alone with taffy, who eyed him shyly, but did not speak.

“wouldn’t you like some of this jelly?” asked johnny, hastily; “i can put some in this empty tumbler for you, you know, so as not to muss it all up at once.”

taffy shook his head.

“well, then, an orange?” went on johnny. “i know a first-rate way to fix an orange, the way they do ’em in havana, where they grow. papa showed me, the winter he went there. shall i do one for you? i don’t believe you ever ate one that way.”

taffy nodded eagerly, opening his parched lips, but still not speaking. so johnny hunted up a fork, and then, with taffy’s knife, cut a round, thick slice of skin, about the size of a half-dollar, off the stem and blossom ends of the orange. these pieces of skin he put together, and stuck the fork through them. then he peeled half the orange, cutting off all the white skin, as well as the yellow, then he stuck it on the fork, at the peeled end, finished peeling it, and handed it to taffy, who had been looking on with breathless interest.

“there!” said johnny, “you just hold on to the fork, and bite, and you’ll get all the good part of the orange, and none of the bad.”

“now wasn’t that first-rate?” he asked, as taffy handed him back the fork, with the “bad” of the orange on it.

taffy laughed delightedly. his shyness was quite gone, but johnny saw that his breath came with difficulty, and that it cost him an effort to speak.

“when i get well, and go sellin’ papers again,” he said, “i’ll fix up oranges that way on sticks. folks would buy ’em, hot days; now don’t you think they would?”

“why, yes,” said johnny, seeing he was expected to answer, “i daresay they would.”

“the old woman down there,” and taffy pointed to the floor, “she says i’m dyin’. don’t you think she’s just tryin’ to scare me? now don’t you, johnny leslie?”

johnny was dismayed. what should he say? he sent up a swift, silent prayer for help, then he spoke, very gently.

“taffy, you’ve heard jim tell about my mother, haven’t you?”

taffy silently nodded.

“well, suppose, while i’m here, my sister tiny was to come, to say mother wanted me to go home; do you think i’d be afraid to go—home, to mother and father, you know?”

taffy shook his head.

“then, don’t you see,” pursued johnny, and in his earnestness he took the little hot hands, and held them fast. “that when our father in heaven says he wants us, we needn’t be afraid to go? mother says we oughtn’t to be—not if we love him.”

johnny was afraid that taffy would not understand, but he did. since jim had taken charge of him, he had begun to go to sunday-school, and having quick ears and a good memory, he had learned fast.

“but s’pos’n we ain’t minded him?” and the feverish grasp on johnny’s hands grew tighter.

“we haven’t minded him, any of us,” said johnny, softly, “and that’s why our saviour died for us. now see here, taffy; if a big boy was going to whip you, because you’d taken something of his, and jim stepped up, and said, ‘here, i’ll take the whipping, if you’ll let him go,’ then you wouldn’t be whipped at all. don’t you see?”

“i didn’t know it meant just that,” said taffy, “what made him do it, anyhow, if he didn’t have to?”

“because he loved us—because he was so sorry for us!” johnny’s voice trembled as he said this; it seemed to him that he had never before fully realized what the saviour had done for the world. “he wanted to have us all safe and happy with him in heaven, after we die, and it’ll be only our own fault, if we don’t get there—just the same as if a wonderful doctor was to come in, right now, and tell you to take his medicine, and he’d make you well, and then you wouldn’t take the medicine.”

“but i would, though!” said taffy, eagerly, and as if he half believed it would happen. “i’d take it, if it was ever so nasty, but the doctor jim fetched, he said he couldn’t do nothing for me, only make me a little easier. do you s’pose he knew?”

“yes,” said johnny, gravely, “i’m afraid he did, taffy; but we needn’t be afraid, either of us. the saviour is stronger, and cares more about us, than all the doctors in the world.”

taffy did not answer; he lay back, looking up through the window at the little patch of blue sky that showed between the tops of the tall houses. johnny could not tell whether or not his words had given any comfort. he read a little story from a paper tiny had sent, and taffy listened with eager interest; then a distant clock struck four, and johnny rose to go. taffy made no objection to being left alone, but when johnny took his hand for goodbye, he said,—

“come to-morrow. i want to hear more about him.”

“i will if i can,” said johnny, “but i go to school, you know. to-day was a half holiday.”

taffy made no answer to this, but he nodded and smiled, as johnny backed out of the door.

mrs. leslie went the next day to see the poor little boy, and many times after that; tiny was allowed to go once or twice, but she was not so strong as johnny was, and felt everything more keenly, so her mother did not think it best to let her go often.

and now johnny had a full chance to test his desire for self-denial. taffy could not himself have told why he preferred johnny to every one else, but so it was, and many were the hidden battles which johnny fought with self-love, not always coming off conqueror, but struggling up again, after each defeat, with a fresh sense of his own helplessness, and a stronger dependence on the “one who is mighty.”

it was hard to tell just when taffy passed out from under the cloud of fear into the full sunshine of the “knowledge and love of god,” but, as his poor little body grew weaker, the eager soul seemed to strengthen, and be filled with love and joy. then he began to express his wish that “everybody” might be told about the saviour, and he lost no chance of telling, himself, when kind-hearted neighbors came in to help jim with him.

the words “obedient unto death” having once been read and explained to him, seemed constantly in his mind, and once, after lying still for a long while, he said,—

“they killed him—cruel! cruel!—and he never stopped ’em, and now see how nice and easy he lets me lie here and die in my bed!”

it was the evening before easter sunday, that lovely festival which is finding its way into all hearts and churches; the last bell was ringing for evening service, and johnny had just taken his seat, with his mother and tiny, in the church which they attended, when, to his great surprise, jim stepped quietly in, and sat down beside him. jim was very neatly dressed in his sunday suit, but the flaming necktie which he usually wore was replaced by a small bow of black ribbon. his face had a gentle and subdued expression quite unusual to it, and johnny felt sure, at once, that taffy was gone.

as the boys knelt side by side in the closing prayer, their hands met in a warm, close grasp, and a smothered sob from jim told how deeply his heart was touched.

taffy had died that evening, very peacefully, in his sleep, a few minutes after jim came home from his work.

“and i somehow felt as if, maybe, i’d get a little nearer to him, if i was to come to church,” said jim, in a subdued voice, as he walked part of the way home with mrs. leslie, “and i thought, maybe, you wouldn’t mind if i came to your pew, it seemed sort of lonesome everywhere.”

mrs. leslie made him very sure that she did not “mind,” and would not, no matter how often he came there.

and he came regularly, after that. at first he sat with his friends; then he chose a sitting among the free seats in the church, and sat there, but he found that, in this way, he was apt to have a different place every sunday, and this he did not like. it made him feel as if he did not “belong anywhere,” he told johnny; so, as soon as he could command the money, he rented half a pew for himself, and after that he nearly always brought some one with him. once or twice it was the old woman who kept the eating-stand where he usually bought his lunch; sometimes it was a wild, rather frightened-looking street arab, sometimes a fellow bootblack.

he evidently enjoyed doing the honors of his half pew, but there was a deeper and better motive under that; the soul that has heard its own “call” is eager that other souls should hear, too.