hts came thronging into his mind, thoughts that were not soft
and crimson and luxurious. To go away, as the Skipper had said,--to go
to heaven! But one did not go to heaven till the time came. Was it
right? Was the Skipper a good man?

The child debated the question with anguish, lying with wide open eyes
in his crimson-shaded nest. Mr. Scraper was--not--very nice, perhaps;
but he had taken him, John, when his mother died, and fed and clothed
him. He had often had enough to eat--almost enough--and--and Mr. Scraper
was old, and perhaps pretty soon his legs would go to sleep, like old
Captain Baker's, and he would not be able to walk at all, and then how
would it be if he were left alone? Perhaps people would not come to help
him, as they had helped the captain, because everybody in the village
loved the captain, and no one exactly loved Mr. Scraper. So if the only
person who belonged to him at all should go off and leave him, how could
it be expected that the folks who had their own grandfathers and things
to take care of would stop and go to take care of this old man? And if
he should die there, all alone, with no one to read to him or bring him
things, or feed him with a spoon, why,--how would it seem to himself,
the boy John's self, when he should hear of it?

"I am a murderer!" he said aloud; and straightway, at the sound of his
own voice, cowered under the bedclothes, and felt the hangman's hand at
his neck.

What did it mean, when a person could not sleep?

There was a man in an old book there at the house, and he was wicked,
and he never could sleep, never at all. The things he had done came and
sat on him, and they were hot, like coals, and the heat went through to
his heart and burned it. Would it be so with him, if he should go away
in the "Nautilus," and forget--or try to forget--the old man who had
nobody to love him? Not that Mr. Scraper wanted to be loved yet, at all;
but--but he might, some time, when his legs had gone to sleep, and
then--

Sometimes, when a person could not sleep, it meant that he was going to
die. Suppose one were to die now, and go to heaven, and they said to
one, "How was Mr. Scraper when you came away?" and one had to say, "I
ran away and left him this evening, and I don't know how he is, or
whether he is alive or dead--for sometimes old people die just like
that, dropping down in their chairs--what would they say to one? Perhaps
the old man had dropped down now, this very night,