he seemed to move was
a little plain face with great blue eyes carrying in them a cloud of
maternal anxiety. Suddenly the cloud broke and the sun burst through in
a joyous riot, for in a voice that seemed to him unfamiliar and remote
Larry uttered the single word, "Jane."

"Oh!" cried the little girl rapturously. "Oh, Larry, wait." She slipped
from the room and returned in a moment with his mother, who quickly came
to his side.

"You are rested, dear," she said, putting her hand under his head.
"Drink this. No, don't lift your head. Now then, go to sleep again,
darling," and, stooping down, she kissed him softly.

"Why--are--you--crying?" he asked faintly. "What's the--matter?"

"Nothing, darling; you are better. Just sleep."

"Better?--Have--I--been--sick?"

"Yes, you have been sick," said his mother.

"Awfully sick," said Jane solemnly. "A whole week sick. But you are all
right now," she added brightly, "and so is Joe, and Sam, and Rover and
Rosie. I saw them all this morning and you know we have been praying and
praying and--"

"Now he will sleep, Jane," said his mother, gently touching the little
girl's brown tangle of hair.

"Yes, he will sleep; oh, I'm just awful thankful," said Jane, suddenly
rushing out of the room.

"Dear little girl," said the mother. "She has been so anxious and so
helpful--a wonderful little nurse."

But Larry was fast asleep, and before he was interested enough to make
inquiry about his comrades in travel the car in charge of Joe and Sam,
with Mr. Gwynne in the caboose, was far on its way to Alberta. After
some days Jane was allowed to entertain the sick boy, as was her custom
with her father, by giving an account of her day's doings. These were
happy days for them both. Between the boy and the girl the beginnings of
a great friendship sprang up.

"Larry, I think you are queer," said Jane to him gravely one day. "You
are not a bit like you were in the car."

A quick flush appeared on the boy's face. "I guess I was queer that day,
Jane," he said. "I know I felt queer."

"Yes, that's it," said Jane, delighted by some sudden recollection. "You
were queer then, and now you're just ornary. My, you were sick and you
were cross, too, awful cross that day. I guess it was the headick. I get
awfully cross, too, when I have the headick. I don't think you will be
cross again ever, will you, Larry?"

Larry, smiling at her, replied, "I'll never be cross with you, Jane,
anyway, never a