id, 'Death loves a
shining mark.'"

"I'm awful sorry," said Nan; "he was a mighty peart little 'un, and
he al'ays looked up and smiled when we passed. But if I'd knowed he
was really goin', I'd sent a message to sister Fan. Don't you think
she'd like to know about the Christmas tree, Vic?"

"You're a green un," said Phil. "You don't s'pose that little pink
and white chap has gone to our heaven, do you? He'll see Fan a heap
sight! She's off in a little cubby-hole with all the rest of the
darkies. All the first-class 'commodations b'longs to the white
peoples, ye know."

"Hush, Phil," said Vic; "you shan't stuff Nan so. Everything will be
all right, honey, when we gets up dere. Shouldn't be s'prised if Fan
knew all 'bout the tree. And p'rhaps the good Lord will let her help
take care of the little fellow till his po' mother comes. Ole Dinah
says she's awfully cut up--his mother, you know. You see they're
strangers here, came for the mammy's health; and Frankie, he was the
only chile. 'Pears like I want to comfort the po' mammy. My lily has
three blossoms. I mean to take them all to her."

"'Pears like you'd better min' your own business. She may be a dog-on
white lady, if she do come from the Norf. Like as not she'd turn up
her nose at your lilies. I'll 'low the little un was a brick, but
you'd better let his mother 'lone." This was Phil's advice.

But although Victoria Porter had a black skin, she had a tender,
loving heart, and she had pored over the Christ-life until she had
unconsciously imbibed its spirit. She was always yearning to comfort
some one. Later in the day she stood at the door of the white
mansion, holding her precious lilies. "They're for his mother," she
said to Dinah. "Tell her we chil'ens loved Frankie, and we're all
mighty sorry."

It was a simple message and a simple offering, and the giver was a
poor little black girl; but behind the gift was sincerity and love,
and the heart of the poor, sorrowing mother was touched and
comforted.

And Vic's lilies had a mission of which she knew not. They preached a
lovely sermon on the high privilege and duty of comforting others. We
may be poor, and very humble may be our station in life; but if we
try, we may make life brighter and sweeter to someone. What a glad
surprise it will be to Vic when the Saviour honors her many kind acts
by the words--"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of
these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."

E.