Kneeling down, with his face in the long grass, he whispered: 'Look, Maude!--Jerrie's baby boy, named for me--Frank Tracy! Do you hear me, Maude?
Frank Tracy, for me--who wronged her so.

God bless Jerrie, and give her many years of happiness when I am dead and gone, which will not now be long.

I am coming very soon, Maude; sooner than you think, and shall never see Jerrie's little boy, God bless him!' That night Frank seemed brighter than usual, and talked a great deal with his wife, who, to the last day of her life, was glad that she was kind to him and humored all his fancies; and once, when he lay upon the couch, with the baby's picture in his hand, she went and sat by him and ran her fingers caressingly through his white hair, and asked if he were not better.
'Yes, Dolly,' he said, taking her fingers in his hand and holding them fast.

'A great deal better.

Jerrie's baby has done me good, and you, too, Dolly.