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THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
—I want a lawyer now," and once more he was in a fever of excitement.
"What do you want with a lawyer?" Again the calm, friendly tone quieted him.
"I want him to draw a will. My brother is—" he caught his breath with a gasp in a desperate effort for self-control. "They say he's—dying." He finished the sentence with a quiver in his voice, and the brave front and the trembling, childish tone went to the man's heart. "I don't believe it—he can't be dying," the boy talked on, gathering courage. "But anyway, he wants to make a will, and—and I reckon—it may be that he—he must."
"I see," the other answered gravely, and the young, torn soul felt an unreasoning confidence that he had
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