and nobody knew what was the matter with Jack, and what made him cry whenever any one touched him. At last the doctor found out that his spine was injured, and then she confessed."

"How old is he now?" Winifred inquired.

"He will be nine the day after to-morrow, but he seems older than that. He's a very clever little boy; he reads a great deal, and he can draw beautiful pictures. Mother thinks it's because he is so much by himself that he gets to be so old-fashioned. I'm eleven, but I'm not nearly so clever as Jack."

"I suppose you are very fond of him," said Winifred. "A person would naturally be very fond of a brother who is a cripple."

"I love him better than anything else in the world," said Betty simply.

At that moment the apartment house was reached.

"Isn't it strange that we live in the same house and never spoke to each other before?" remarked Winifred, as they mounted the first flight of stairs together. "We haven't lived here very long, though; only since January."

"We have lived here for two years," said Betty, "and we don't know any of the people in the house."

Winifred's eyes opened wide in surprise, but they were already on the first landing, and her mother had rung the bell of their own apartment.

"Good-bye," she said, "this is where we live. I hope I shall see you again soon."

Betty stood for a moment gazing at the closed door, behind which her new acquaintances had disappeared, and then she toiled on, up three more long steep flights of stairs, until, on the very top landing of all, she paused, and taking a key from her pocket, proceeded to open a door on her right.

"Is that you, Betty?" called an eager little voice, as the door swung open, and Betty passed into the small, narrow hall of the "top floor rear apartment."

"Yes, dear; but, oh, Jack, I'm so sorry; I slipped on a horrid piece of orange peel and spilled all the cream cakes. It'll have to be cold meat and bread and butter to-day."

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" the anxious little voice inquired.

"Oh, no, not a bit, and quite an interesting thing happened. Just wait till I take off my hat, and get your lunch ready, and I'll tell you all about it."

Five minutes later, Betty, her little dark face somewhat flushed from recent exertions, but looking, on the whole, very bright and happy, entered the small front room, bearing a tray containing milk, cold meat, and a pile of thin bread-and-butter sandwiches.

"I'll put it on the little table, and we can have lunch together," she said cheerfully. "See what a lot of sandwiches mother's made for us."

As she spoke, Betty drew a small table close to the sofa on which lay the little cripple. Jack watched her every movement with loving eyes. Such a pale, wan face as it was; such a poor, shrunken little body! But it was not a dull face, and the large, beautiful blue eyes had a bright, glad light in them, despite the fact that their owner spent all his poor life confined to a sofa.

"Now tell me about the interesting thing," Jack said, when Betty, having completed her arrangements, had seated herself by his side, prepared to enjoy the cold meat and bread and butter.

"Yes, I will. It isn't very much, though, only when I was at the baker's who should happen to come in but the lady and the little girl who live down on the second floor. You know, I told you about that little girl, how pretty she was, and how she and her mother were always together. I've seen her mother taking her to school ever so many mornings, and I think she was on her way home from school now, for she carried books. Well, I got my cream cakes—they were lovely ones too, and the woman gave me three, though I only asked for two—and I was hurrying home as fast as I could, when all of a sudden I slipped on that old orange peel, and fell flat. My bag burst open, and of course the cream cakes were all squashed. I got up, and was standing looking at my poor cream cakes, and feeling so dreadfully sorry, when the lady and the little girl stopped to speak to me. They were ever so kind. The lady said I had better go back to the store for more, but I didn't have money enough for that, you know."

"You didn't say so, did you?" Jack questioned anxiously.

"Of course I didn't. I just said I thought I wouldn't go back to-day, and then we all walked home together, and the little girl asked me about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"Oh, I said you were a very clever boy, and—why, there's the door bell; I wonder who it can be?"

"Perhaps it's mother come home early," Jack suggested, his pale little face brightening; "perhaps one of her pupils didn't take a lesson, or——"

But Betty did not hear. She was already halfway across the little hall, and in another moment was standing with the open door in her hand, gazing in surprise at the neat, pleasant-faced servant girl who confronted her. The girl held in her hand a plate covered with a napkin.

"Is this Miss Betty Randall?" the stranger inquired, smiling.

"Yes," said Betty, in growing bewilderment. She was sure she had never seen the girl before.

"Well, here are some éclairs for you. Miss Winifred Hamilton sends them to you and your little brother, and hopes you'll both enjoy them."

And before Betty could recover sufficiently from her surprise to utter a word of either thanks or protest, the plate was in her hands, and the servant girl was hurrying away downstairs.

It was with a very bright face, however, that the little girl came running back into the sitting room, in answer to Jack's eager "What is it, Betty?"

"It's éclairs, four beautiful chocolate éclairs," she explained joyfully, "and the nice little girl downstairs has sent them to us.

"She just bought them too, for I heard her mother asking her at the baker's whether it was to be éclairs or macaroons, and she said éclairs. Wasn't it kind of her to send them? You do like chocolate éclairs very much, don't you, Jack, dear?"

"I love them," said Jack heartily, "but, Betty, do you suppose mother would like it?"

Betty's bright face clouded, but only for a moment.

"I don't believe she'd mind," she said with decision. "You see, things to eat aren't like money, and I think it would be rude not to take them when the little girl was so kind."

Jack acquiesced in this view of the matter, and the two children were soon in the full enjoyment of their unexpected treat.

"Her name is Hamilton, Winifred Hamilton," remarked Betty, poising a delicious morsel on her fork as she spoke, "and she knows my name too. The maid asked if I wasn't Miss Betty Randall. She is such a pretty little girl, Jack; her hair is all fluffy and crimpy round her face, and she's got beautiful eyes."

"I wish I could see her," said Jack wistfully; "do you suppose she would come up here if you asked her?"

"I shouldn't wonder," said Betty hopefully; "she said she was very much interested in cripples."

Jack made an impatient movement, and a look of pain crossed his face.

"I wish I wasn't a cripple," he said, his lip beginning to tremble; "I wish I could get up and walk like other people. I want to see things."

Betty laid down her fork, and a look of sympathy and almost womanly tenderness came into her eyes.

"What kind of things do you want to see, Jack?" she asked gently.

"Oh, I don't know; all kinds of things. I get so tired looking out of the window at roofs and chimneys. I should like to see a park with deer in it, and swans and a peacock, like the one mother tells about."

"But you couldn't see that park, you know, dear,