station and returned with help. The door was forced and the house
searched. In the kitchen they found the two old women sitting dead by the
stove, one with her head upon the other's shoulder. The fire had long been
out and their bodies were frozen. There was plenty of fuel in the house.
Apparently they had shut off the draught to save coal and raised the lid
of the stove, perhaps to enjoy the glow of the fire in the gloaming. The
escaping gas had put them both to sleep before they knew their peril.

So the police and the coroner concluded. "Two friends," said the official
report. Margaret Kelly had found more than food and shelter. Life at the
last had given her its best gift, and her hungry old heart was filled.

DRIVEN FROM HOME

"Doctor, what shall I do? My father wants me to tend bar on Sunday. I am
doing it nights, but Sunday--I don't want to. What shall I do?"

The pastor of Olivet Church looked kindly at the lad who stood before him,
cap in hand. The last of the Sunday-school had trailed out; the boy had
waited for this opportunity. Dr. Schauffler knew and liked him as one of
his bright boys. He knew, too, his home--the sordid, hard-fisted German
father and his patient, long-suffering mother.

"What do you think yourself, Karl?"

"I don't want to, Doctor. I know it is wrong."

"All right then, don't."

"But he will kick me out and never take me back. He told me so, and he'll
do it."

"Well--"

The boy's face flushed. At fourteen, to decide between home and duty is
not easy. And there was his mother. Knowing him, the Doctor let him fight
it out alone. Presently he squared his shoulders as one who has made his
choice.

"I can't help it if he does," he said; "it isn't right to ask me."

"If he does, come straight here. Good-by!"

Sunday night the door-bell of the pastor's study rang sharply. The Doctor
laid down his book and answered it himself. On the threshold stood Karl
with a small bundle done up in a bandana handkerchief.

"Well, I am fired," he said.

"Come in, then. I'll see you through."

The boy brought in his bundle. It contained a shirt, three collars, and a
pair of socks, hastily gathered up in his retreat. The Doctor hefted it.

"Going light," he smiled. "Men fight better for it sometimes. Great
battles have been won without baggage trains."

The boy looked soberly at his all.

"I have got to win now, Doctor. Get me a job, will you?"

Things moved swiftly with Karl from t