much."

"And I don't know any one there, Christie; you won't be there, nor any
one that I know; and I shall have to leave my poor old organ; you don't
suppose they'll have any barrel-organs there, will they, Christie?"

"No," said Christie, "I never heard my mother speak of any; I think she
said they played on harps in heaven."

"I shan't like that _half_ so well," said old Treffy, sorrowfully; "I
don't know how I shall pass my time."

Christie did not know what to say to this, so he made no answer.

"Christie, boy," said old Treffy, suddenly, "I want you to make out
about heaven, I want you to find out all about it for me; maybe, I
shouldn't feel so strange there if I knew what I was going to; and your
mother called it 'Home, sweet home,' didn't she, Christie?"

"Yes," said Christie, "I'm almost sure it was heaven she meant."

"Now, Christie, boy, mind you make out," said Treffy, earnestly; "and
remember there's only another month! only another month!"

"I'll do my best, Master Treffy," said Christie, "I'll do my very best."

And Christie kept his word.

CHAPTER IV.

MABEL'S FIRST LESSON IN ORGAN-GRINDING.

The next day Christie had to go out as usual. Old Treffy seemed no worse
than before,--he was able to sit up, and Christie opened the small
window before he went out to let a breath of fresh air into the close
attic. But there was very little fresh air anywhere that day. The
atmosphere was heavy and stifling, and poor Christie's heart felt
depressed and weary. He turned, he hardly knew why, to the suburban
road, and stopped before the house with the pretty garden. He wanted to
see those merry little faces again,--perhaps they would cheer him; he
felt so very dull to-day.

Christie was not disappointed this time. He had hardly turned the handle
of the organ twice before Mabel and Charlie appeared at the nursery
window; and, after satisfying themselves that it really _was_ Christie,
their own organ-boy, they ran into the garden, and stood beside him as
he played.

"Doesn't he turn it nicely?" whispered Charlie to his sister.

"Yes," said little Mabel; "I wish I had an organ, don't you, Charlie?"

"Shall I ask papa to buy us one?" asked her brother.

"I don't know, Charlie, if mamma would like it always," said Mabel. "She
has such bad headaches, you know."

"Well; but up in the nursery she would hardly hear it, I'm sure," said
Charlie, regretfully.

"I _should_ so like to turn it," said M