of
the city, but he remembered the way perfectly, and would have no
difficulty in reaching the orphanage.

For some time Peter trudged bravely along the city streets. It was quite
dark now and lights streamed from the windows of shops and houses as he
passed. Throngs of people hurried by anxious to escape from the cold
night to the firesides of home. All these people carried
mysterious-looking parcels; "Christmas presents for some happy little
boy or girl," thought Peter. Twice he stopped to shift the baby from one
shoulder to the other. He never knew before that she was so heavy; his
half frozen little arms almost refused to carry their burden any longer.
He was terribly tired, and he wondered why the lights were dancing so.
They were turning round and round and made him so dizzy he could scarce
see where he was going. He did not think, that day last summer, that the
way was quite so long as this. Surely, he must have been walking for
hours and hours. Oh! why was baby so heavy and why would those lights
persist in dancing so?

He wondered if they could be lost and what would happen to them if they
were. He was almost certain he had taken the right turnings every time,
but he might have made a mistake. At that last corner he was not quite
sure whether he should turn to the left or the right. If they were lost,
what would become of them?

The lights were acting very strangely to-night; they had stopped dancing
now but were all turning black, and what was this funny feeling that was
creeping over him? He sat down hurriedly on some steps he was passing
and leaned his head against the railing for support. He felt baby
slipping from his arms onto the step beside him but was powerless to
hold her. Once more that funny feeling was creeping over him and he
wondered if he could be dying. Mr. Dempsey's Tim had died. Peter had
gone upstairs to see him. They had put him into a funny-looking white
box that was nearly covered with flowers, and he looked so strange lying
there all white and still among the blossoms. The next day the white
box, the flowers and poor little Tim were carried away. The neighbors
said Tim was dead; Mrs. Dempsey said he had gone to heaven. Peter
wondered if he died would anyone put him in a white box and cover him
with flowers; if he died, would he go to heaven and see Tim there?

Peter had often been very anxious as to what heaven was like. He had
asked Mrs. Dempsey. Her answer had not been quite satisf