" Then, as
Jock was silent, "I have told you because you can make a great
difference to their comfort by not showing how much it costs you to
let her go."
Jock drew the bed clothes over his face, and an odd stifled sound was
heard from under them. He remained thus perdu, while directions were
being given to John for the night, but as the doctor was leaving the
room, emerged and said—-
"Bring him in before he goes."
In a short time, for it was most important not to lose the fine
weather, the doctor carried Armine in swathed in rugs and blankets, a
pale, sunken, worn face, and great hollow eyes looking out at the
top.
The mother said something cheerful about a live mummy, but the two
poor boys gazed at one another with sad, earnest, wistful eyes, and
wrung one another's hands.
"Don't forget," gasped Armine, labouring for breath.
And Jock answered—-
"All right, Armie; good-bye. I'm coming to morrow," with a choking,
quivering attempt at bravery.
"Yes, to-morrow," said poor Mother Carey, bending over him. "My boy-
—my poor good boy, if I could but cut myself in two! I can't tell
you how thankful I am to you for being so good about it. That dear
good Johnny will do all he can, and it is only till tomorrow. You'll
sleep most of the time.
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