"What shall you do when winter comes ?" John looked grave.

"I don't know: I suppose I shall manage somehow--like the sparrows," he answered, perceiving not how apposite his illustration was.

For truly he seemed as destitute as the birds of the air, whom ONE feedeth, when they cry to Him.
My question had evidently made him thoughtful; he remained silent a good while.
At last I said: "John, do you remember the woman who spoke so sharply to you in the alley that day ?" "Yes.

I shall never forget anything which happened that day," he answered, softly.
"She was my nurse once.

She is not such a bad woman, though trouble has sharpened her temper.