Excerpt: ""Are you asleep, Jackie?" Bob Middleton, closed the door of the attic which served as a bedroom for himself and his little five-year-old brother as he spoke, and stepped softly to the bedside. No, Jackie was not asleep. He had sprung up in bed at the sound of Bob's voice, and now cried chokingly — "Oh, Bobbie, Bobbie!" "Why, what is the matter, old chap?" Bob, inquired. The question was needless, for he knew his little brother was crying from fear—fear of being alone in the dark. "I hoped I should find you asleep," he went on without waiting for a reply; "it was an hour ago that Aunt Martha put you to bed, and you promised you'd try to go to sleep right away." "I did try," was the plaintive answer, followed by the anxious inquiry—"Are you coming to bed now?" "No," said Bob, "I've only come up for a few minutes. Aunt Martha said I mustn't stay long, for she's several errands for me to do yet." He went to the window—it was low in the sloping roof—and pulled up the blind. "There, now!" he cried, "isn't that better? The moon's like a big lamp in the sky, and the stare are shining ever so brightly.""