"I believe his name is Clifton. A cowboy by the name of Harding has gone to his shack, to-day, to nurse him."
"Just like him," she thought.
She made no reply. As the day wore on, Kathleen's fever decreased, but Brigham's increased. The boy again grew delirious. He repeatedly called Wathemah and his teacher. As night drew near, he grew worse. The parents stood near the bed, weeping. Suddenly the child cried out:
"Papa, won't yer bring my teacher? She knows the way ter heaven."
"She's here, lad," he said, taking one of Brigham's hands in his. Then the father repeated the prayers of his church.
At dawn, Brigham lifted his arms, and smiled. He had found the Open Door.
When the Murphy children knew their brother was dead, they were filled with awe, and huddled in one corner of the living room. The mother sobbed aloud, but refused to come near or touch the still little figure.
The teacher, with tears rolling down her cheeks, prepared her little friend's body for burial. Then she spoke again to the father, reminding him of further preparations. He rose, and, going into the room, where the family were gathered, said:
"We must have a wake. Poor Brigham."
"No, yer won't have no Cath'lic doin's with Brigham," responded his wife.