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 upon the walls. A stove, whose old age and infirmities were by much stove-blacking, held a cheerful little fire, and the of the one window were bright and clear. The bed, which looked unpleasantly hard, and was furnished, had been pulled to a place between the fire and the window, and Taffy, sitting up against a 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 .
 
“Oh, yes,” he said, in a voice so low and that Johnny 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 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 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 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 , 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 grasp on Johnny’s hands grew tighter.
 
“We haven’t minded Him, any of us,” said Johnny, softly, “and that’s why our 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............