, smiling, "you may keep your money, boy; I won't
take your last penny, and when I come to see Mrs. White I'll give a look
at the old man again."

Christie looked, but did not speak his thanks.

"Please, sir, what do you think of Master Treffy?" he asked.

"He won't be here very long, boy,--perhaps another month or so," said
the doctor as he drove away.

"A month or so! only a month!" said Christie to himself, as he walked
slowly back, with a dead weight on his soul. A month more with his dear
old master,--only another month, only another month. And in the minute
which passed before Christie reached the attic, he saw, as in a
sorrowful picture, what life would be to him without old Treffy. He
would have no home, not even the old attic; he would have no friend. _No
home, no friend; no home, no friend!_ that would be his sorrow. And only
another month before it came! only another month!

It was with a dull, heavy heart that Christie opened the attic door.

"Christie, boy," said old Treffy's voice; "what did the doctor say?"

"He said you had only another month, Master Treffy," sobbed Christie,
"only another month; and whatever shall I do without you?"

Treffy did not speak; it was a solemn thing to be told he had only
another month to live; that in another month he must leave Christie, and
the attic, and the old organ, and go--he knew not whither. It was a
solemn, searching thought for old Treffy.

He spoke very little all day. Christie stayed at home, for he had not
heart enough to take the organ out that sorrowful day; and he watched
old Treffy very gently and mournfully. _Only another month! only another
month!_ was ringing in the ears of both.

But when the evening came on, and there was no light in the room but
what came from the handful of fire in the grate, old Treffy began to
talk.

"Christie," he said, uneasily, "where am I going? Where shall I be in a
month, Christie?"

Christie gazed into the fire thoughtfully.

"My mother talked about heaven, Master Treffy; and she said she was
going home. 'Home, sweet home,' that was the last thing she sang. I
expect that 'Home, sweet home,' is somewhere in heaven, Master Treffy; I
expect so. It's a good place, so my mother said."

"Yes," said old Treffy, "I suppose it is; but I can't help thinking I
shall be very strange there, Christie, very strange indeed. I know so
little about it, so very little, Christie, boy."

"Yes," said Christie, "and I don't know