"
"I wasn't," put in Theodore, sadly.
"But since you came back from the bishop's you've been so different,
and it seems to me you're always trying to help somebody now.
Theo--if Little Brother lives, I hope he'll be like you."
Theodore stared at her in incredulous silence. "Like me. Little
Brother like me," he whispered, softly, to himself, the colour
mounting in his cheeks. Then he arose and walked over to the bed where
the child lay, with one small hand thrown out across the
bedclothes. The soft, golden hair lay in pretty rings on the moist
forehead, but the little face looked waxen white.
Theodore stood for a moment looking down at the baby, then suddenly he
stooped and kissed the outstretched hand, and then without another
word he went away.
Nan's eyes were full of tears as she looked after him.
"How he does love Little Brother," she thought. "He's going to miss
him awfully."
Monday was a busy day for Mrs. Rawson. She had engaged a seamstress
to finish off Nan's dresses, and having seen the woman settled to her
work, she set off herself for the tenement house, a boy going with her
to carry a small valise.
She found Nan busy baking bread. The place was very warm and the girl
looked flushed and tired. Mrs. Hunt had carried the baby off to her
cooler rooms.
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