If any one had asked Vernon Houston what he wanted more than anything in the whole world, he would not have waited an instant before replying, "A brother!"

He had pets of all kinds,—rabbits, guinea pigs, a dog, and a pony; but still his lonely little heart longed for a brother, some one to enjoy all his pleasures, some one to go to school with, some one to play with when his father and mother were away and only Jane was left in the kitchen.

To be sure he had books and games without number, but he soon grew tired of reading, and what good were games when there was no one to play with him?

Of course he had plenty of school friends and playmates, but on stormy days, or when he and Jane were left all alone, there were never any boys to be found,—just when he most needed them.

In spite of his dog and his pony and all his rabbits he couldn't help being a little lonely. Whenever he saw two brothers playing together, he always thought how glad he would be to exchange every one of his pets—pony and all—for a little brother, and every Christmas he wrote a letter to Santa Claus to ask for one.

On his ninth birthday his father and mother surprised him by saying that they were going to Boston. They promised to come home the next day and bring him the best birthday gift he ever had in all his life; but what this delightful gift was to be they would not tell. It was a secret, and a very good secret, too.

To tell the truth Mr. and Mrs. Houston had decided to adopt a little boy. They had been planning it for some time, but Vernon knew nothing about it. They had always been sorry for their brotherless son, and they knew how many boys there are in the world who have no home, no father and mother, no one to love them and care for them.

They had been waiting to hear of some homeless lad, who was good and honest, to take into their home and hearts, and to become the "little brother" for whom Vernon longed. At last a man telephoned from Boston that he had found just the boy they wanted, so they set off at once to bring home the birthday gift.

When they looked into Harry's bright eyes and honest face, they were not long in deciding that he was just the right boy for them.

Mrs. Houston bent and kissed him, and Mr. Houston took him by the hand, saying kindly, "Harry, how would you like to come and live with us, to be our boy, and a brother to our son, Vernon?"

Harry was too happy to say a word, but his big brown eyes answered for him, and it was not long before they were all three on their way to Greenfield.

I wish you could have seen Vernon when his father and mother arrived with the birthday gift.

"Here, my boy, is the secret,—the brother you have been waiting for so long," said Mr. Houston. "Let me introduce you to your new brother Harry. He has come to stay as long as he can be happy with you. He is only a few months younger than you are, and I don't see why you two boys can't have a good time together."

It seemed as if the boys had only to look straight into each other's eyes to become the best of friends, and if you could have watched them as the days went by, you would have thought they were as happy as children could possibly be.

Vernon brought out all his playthings and gave half of them to Harry; he showed him how to make Rags do all sorts of funny tricks; he let him feed the rabbits and the guinea-pigs; and when they went to ride, he let Harry drive the pony. How the little fellow did enjoy holding the reins and riding in a red pony-cart like those he had looked at so many times before with longing eyes.

The two boys ran races, played ball, and went to school together. Vernon never complained of being lonely, and as for Harry, he was the happiest boy you ever saw. He tried to show how grateful he was for everything that Mr. and Mrs. Houston did for him; and he resolved to study hard, to be honest and true, and never to forget to do all in his power to repay his kind friends.

The brothers had a room together with two white beds standing side by side. One night Mr. Houston came home very late and found that the boys had gone to bed, so he went to their room to bid them good-night.He was much surprised to find both the boys reading a book, with a lighted lamp on a little stand between their beds.

"My sons," he said very seriously, "I always like to see you enjoying your books, but I cannot allow you to read after you are in bed."

"Why not, Father?" questioned Vernon.

"Because it is a dangerous thing to do," Mr. Houston replied. "You might fall asleep without blowing out the light. It is a common thing to have such an accident. Lamps are often tipped over and houses set on fire in just that way."

"But, Father," urged Vernon, "please let us finish this chapter. It will take only a few minutes longer, and it is such a good story."

"You may finish this one chapter," Mr. Houston answered. "Then you must blow out the light, and after to-night there must be no more reading in bed with a lighted lamp."The boys meant to obey their father; but they were both very sleepy, and before the end of the chapter was reached, they were sound asleep.

It was not long before Vernon restlessly threw out his arm. His hand hit the lamp and knocked it off the table, and the oil spread over the carpet, taking fire from the burning wick.

Rags had crept into the room to sleep on his little master's bed, and the noise waked him. When he saw the blazing oil, he jumped down and ran out into the hall, barking with all his might.

Mr. and Mrs. Houston rushed upstairs and beat out the flames with heavy rugs, before the bed clothing caught fire; but the boys were terribly frightened, and no one ever had to tell them again not to read in bed with a lighted lamp. They had learned a good lesson, and little Rags had become a never-to-be-forgotten hero.

Why was Vernon lonely?

What gift did he have on his ninth birthday?

Why did the boys set a lighted lamp on the table beside their bed?

How was it overturned?

Where was Rags? What did he do?

How should this fire have been avoided?

A lamp, a lantern, or an oil-stove should not be placed where it could possibly be upset. Neither should it be blown out until the wick has been turned half-way down, as the flame might be blown into the oil, thus causing an explosion. To turn down the wick too low, however, is also dangerous.

All brass or metal work on a lamp or oil-stove should be kept clean and bright, as dirty metal retains the heat, thus causing vapor to rise from the oil, and making an explosion possible.