In a moment she felt a horrible fear for Hans and the child.  Neither of them could move; and must they lie helpless and forsaken in the face of such a fearful death?  She ran as though her feet were winged.  Nearer and nearer she came, and now she saw the flames rise and lick the smoky column with great lapping tongues of fire.

Nearer and nearer she came, and the crowd of men about the hut stood stricken and dared not venture in.

“It is of no use,” they screamed.  “We did not know soon enough, and now it is too late; we should smother if we tried to save them.”

But she tore her way through the crowd and flung herself into the burning place.

Hans, writhing and screaming, had managed to drag himself near the door; and thinking, “The child is more fit for heaven, I will save Hans first,” she lifted him in her arms and carried him outside.  It was as though some great strength had been given her, for she carried him as if he had been a little child.  Then into the hut she went once more, and to the bed of the child.  But now the flames were licking her feet, and the smoke blinded her.  She groped her way to the bed and felt for the boy, but he was not in his accustomed place; and she was about to fling herself upon the little couch in despair, when a great light filled the place,—­not the red light of the flames, but a clear white flood such as she had only seen once before.

There stood the white angel, radiant, glorious; and looking up she saw him smiling down at her with the eyes of the boy.

“I am come again,” he said.  “When you would not give me your life, I gave you mine, and it was spent in pain and torture.  Now that you would gladly give yours to spare me, you are to taste the sweetest of all blessings.  The lesson is over; it is done.”  And he took her in his arms and she was filled with a great joy, for she knew the angel had answered all her prayers.  She remembered the words:  “He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.”

The men outside waited in vain for Christina, and when she did not come they shook their heads and some of them wept.  They did not know.

IN THE PIED PIPER’S MOUNTAIN.

It was a great honor, let me tell you; and Doris, as she sat by the window studying, could not help thinking of it and feeling just a wee bit important.

“It is n’t as if I were the oldest girl,” said she to herself.  “No, indeed; I ’m younger than most of them, and yet when it came to choosing who should speak, and we were each given a chance to vote, I had the most ballots.  Miss Smith told me I could recite anything I chose, but to be sure it was ‘good,’ and that it was not ‘beyond me.’  Well, this is n’t ‘beyond me.’  I guess;” and she began:—­

  “Hamelin Town ’s in Brunswick,
    By famous Hanover City;
  The river Weser, deep and wide,
  Washes its walls on the southern side,—­
  A pleasanter spot you never spied. 
    But, when begins my ditty,
  Almost five hundred years ago,
  To see the townfolk suffer so
    With vermin was a pity.”