"So you're not going to get rid of the retriever after all, then," remarked the post-mistress, after filling in and handing Dick the receipt for his money.
"No," said the little boy; and then he pointed at the notice that had not yet been removed from the window, and added, "That's how I got my half-sovereign, Mrs. Mortimore. The colonel gave it to me for bringing his match-box back to him last evening."
"You don't say so, Dick Wilkins!" ejaculated the woman, with good-natured interest. "Well, you are lucky, and no mistake! Some one told me only yesterday how upset all you children were at the thought of parting with your dog. See! here's your two-and-sixpence change; and here's a quarter-pound packet of tea that you can take home to your mother as a present from me. Tell her I hope she'll enjoy it. She was looking shocking thin and pale, I thought, when last I saw her."
"Thank you very much for the tea," said Dick gratefully. "Mother'll be glad of it, I'm sure." And with this he turned towards the entrance of the shop, and would have gone his way had not the talkative post-mistress called him back to the counter again.
"If you take my advice, Dick Wilkins," she went on, "you'll get that mother of yours to go and see the doctor. She's a failing woman—you mark my words. Get Dr. Rogers to give your mother something—there's a good boy!—or, in my belief, you won't have a mother to care for you much longer."
Now Mrs. Mortimore was a kind woman and a well-meaning one. But she lacked discretion, as this fact she would have realized could she have heard Dick Wilkins sob himself to sleep in his own little room when night-time came. Never did child love parent more devotedly than this one did his mother. Therefore the post-mistress's words of warning sank deep into his heart, and haunted him increasingly during the long hours of the night.
Days passed, and work became even scarcer than hitherto. The cold got more intense; and great was Dick's distress one evening on finding his mother employed in cutting up her warm shawl to make bodices for the twins.
"Mother," he burst forth, "oh, please, don't do it! You'll catch your death of cold if you go out in this bitter wind without anything over your shoulders. Let me go to the rector's wife and ask her for a couple of cast-off wraps for Willie and Joe."
"No, no! I couldn't think of it, Dick! I never begged in my life!" was the widow's answer.
"Do you feel bad this evening?" asked the boy in anxious tones. "I mean—does your side ache worse than usual?"