I helped take care of him; and he was so patient, I used to wonder at him, for he was in dreadful pain all time.
He gave me his books, and his dog, and his speckled hens, and his big knife, and said, 'Good-by, Polly,' and kissed me the last thing and then O Jimmy! Jimmy! If he only could come back!" Poor Polly's eyes had been getting fuller and fuller, lips trembling more and more, as she went on; when she came to that "good-by," she could n't get any further, but covered up her face, and cried as her heart would break.

Tom was full of sympathy, but did n't know how to show it; so he sat shaking up the camphor bottle, and trying to think of something proper and comfortable to say, when Fanny came to the rescue, and cuddled Polly in her arms, with soothing little pats and whispers and kisses, till the tears stopped, and Polly said, she "did n't mean to, and would n't any more.

I 've been thinking about my dear boy all the evening, for Tom reminds me of him," she added, with a sigh.
"Me?
How can I, when I ain't a bit like him ?" cried Tom, amazed.
"But you are in some ways." "Wish I was; but I can't be, for he was good, you know." "So are you, when you choose.

Has n't he been good and patient, and don't we all like to pet him when he 's clever, Fan ?"' said Polly, whose heart was still aching for her brother, and ready for his sake to find virtues even in tormenting Tom.
"Yes; I don't know the boy lately; but he 'll be as bad as ever when he 's well," returned Fanny, who had n't much faith in sick-bed repentances.
"Much you know about it," growled Tom, lying down again, for he had sat bolt upright when Polly made the astounding declaration that he was like the well-beloved Jimmy.

That simple little history had made a deep impression on Tom, and the tearful ending touched the tender spot that most boys hide so carefully.