_You_ never made me cry, or saw me; I hate to hear _you_ preach; but she--why, she doesn't preach at all, but she says all you've got to say a hundred times better." He was excited and feverish that night, and in his sleep murmured scraps of the gentle talk of his ministering angel, which even from his lips fell with a reflected sweetness on the trouble-tossed spirit of the watcher.
Jeffreys had succeeded in getting a temporary job which took him away during the next two days.

But each night on his return he found his invalid brighter and softened in spirit by reason of his angel's visits.
"She'll come to-morrow, John.

There's magic in her, I tell you.

I see things I never saw before.

You've been kind to me, John, and given up a lot for me, but if you were to hear her--" Here the dying youth could get no farther.
He seemed much the same in the morning when Jeffreys started for work.
The last words he said as his friend departed were-- "She's coming again to-day." When Jeffreys came home in the evening the garret was silent, and on the bed lay all that remained on earth of the poor wrecked life which had been so strangely linked with his own.
As he stood over the lifeless body his eyes fell on a scrap of paper lying on the pillow.