"What are you doing with that?" she asked sharply, as Kitty appeared from
the bedroom.
"Father wants Tip to wear it," answered Kitty.
"I'll lend it to him," spoke the sick man; "we want him to look as decent
as we can to-day, you know."
Mrs. Lewis said no more, but it seemed to her like giving up one more
hope of her husband's life.
Tip came down from the garret, with neatly-brushed hair, and dressed
in his clean shirt, nicely mended jacket, and the shiny collar. It
was wonderful what a difference that collar made; he didn't look like
the same boy.
"Kitty," he said, his face all aglow with pleasure, "where _did_ I get
a collar?"
"It's father's; he said wear it," answered Kitty.
"And how did it get on my jacket?"
"Jumped on, likely."
Kitty spoke in a short, half provoked tone; she was so unused to doing a
kind thing, that she really felt half ashamed of it.
"Well," said Tip, smiling all over his face, "if that's so, it's the best
jump it ever took, and I thank it from the bottom of my heart.
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