"Mother!" he said.
"I thought you were never coming," she answered gaily.
But he only fell on his knees at the bedside, and buried his face in the bedclothes, crying in agony, and saying:
"Mother—mother—mother!"
She stroked his hair slowly with her thin hand.
"Don't cry," she said. "Don't cry—it's nothing."
But he felt as if his blood was melting into tears, and he cried in terror and pain.
"Don't—don't cry," his mother faltered.
Slowly she stroked his hair. Shocked out of himself, he cried, and the tears hurt in every fibre of his body. Suddenly he stopped, but he dared not lift his face out of the bedclothes.
"You are late. Where have you been?" his mother asked.