"Do, do," was the eager response.
The very next day father Hayne was taken violently ill. I went down there and found Sophie trying to comfort mother. What should we do—send for Dan?
"Wait until to-morrow and see what the doctor says," returned the anxious wife.
Two of the neighbors were in, and I felt I must go home for the night, as I could be of no real assistance. But I was deeply troubled.
The next day we sent a messenger for Dan.
It did not seem that a strong, hearty man could fail so rapidly. But the disease was stronger, and in ten days Homer Hayne took the last journey, and lay in the best room, dead. Dan had come home in time, but his father was delirious until he went into a stupor, not knowing any one the last few days.
It was a dreadful shock to us all. Poor mother was beside herself with grief. There was a very sympathetic obituary notice in the papers. He had been a good, upright citizen, if he had not filled a very high place. And he had given the country five fine sons.
"That of itself is a great thing," declared father.
Sophie took the poor widow home for a few days. She was the tenderest of daughters. I would have been glad to do it, but grandmother was so fond of the children, we thought they would cheer her.
We wondered what she would like to do.