I was so much surprised at the change in the boys’ appearance, that at first I could hardly believe my eyes. They both looked much whiter than I had seen them before; their hair was cut closer, and brushed to one side, instead of hanging right over their eyes. Neither of the brothers was in rags; the old worn clothes indeed were still there, but neatly patched and mended; some one had given Bob a pair of old shoes, but it was Billy who wore the warm cloak.
“His brother always makes him wear it,” whispered Oddity, “except at night, and then it covers them both.”
“Now you must have it, Bob; isn’t it comfy?” said the lame child, pressing the cloak round his brother, whose violent cough for the moment prevented his reply, and brought a bright colour to his cheek, which I never had seen there before. “I’ll creep very close to you, Bobby, and then we’ll both have it, you know. There! are you better now?” he said, softly, laying his thin cheek against that of his brother.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get better here.” The boy shivered and closed his eyes as he spoke.
“Oh, Bob! Bob!” cried the child, in accents of fear, “you’re not a-going to be ill like mother; you’re not a-going to—die, and leave me!”
There was something very gentle in the tone, and sweet in the uplift eye, of the poor destitute boy, as he replied, “I can’t say if I’m a-going to die, Billy; but don’t you mind what Miss Mary told us about dying? I used to be afeared when I thought on it, but now—I think I could die and be happy!”
“But you must not—you shall not go and leave me! Oh! what should I do without you?” cried Billy, bursting into tears.
[ CHAPTER XI.]
A REMOVAL.
A manly voice was heard on the outside, speaking to a porter who was passing at the moment.
“Can you tell me, pray, whether two boys of the name of Parton live near this place? From the direction which was given me, I think that we must be near their dwelling.”