MY NIGHTINGALE. bl

eyes. He looked in bewilderment at the
figure by the bed.

“ Mother,” he cried, “it is a dreams;
Andersen is here!”

At the sound of his voice Frue Jesper-
sen came to his bed-side, and saw that
the fever had gone and her boy was saved.
Her heart was too full for speech

“Tt is no dream,” said Andersen, tak-
ing the little boy’s hand; “TI heard you
were ill, and came to see you. We are
going to be great friends now.”

Holger was too weak to do anything
but smile contentedly.

Andersen proved himself indeed a frend
to little Holger and his mother. As soon
as the boy was better, he sent them to
the country ; and when they returned, it
was not to Liljegade and its poverty, but
to a pretty little flat in a suburb of the
town. Through him Frue Jespersen ob-
tained almost more work than she could