"That's well said. I fancy you'll make a capital little nurse, anyway; we'll see!" and the kindly doctor went on his way, having cheered the children considerably.
"We must hope for the best," Jim said, repeating Dr. Bly's words, "and perhaps God will let poor father live after all!"
[CHAPTER VIII.]
A GREAT CHANGE.
JAMES LETHBRIDGE did not die, though it was several days before the doctor declared his life to be out of danger.
It was September before he was well enough, with great difficulty, to come downstairs. It was a painful journey, but Dr. Bly said he must now try to use his leg more and more daily. A cheerful little party took tea together in the kitchen that afternoon. The father, pale and thin after his illness, and still feeling very weak, was somewhat silent.
During the weary time he had been laid up, he had had ample opportunity for serious thought, and had determined never, with God's help, to neglect his family for the sake of drink again. Perhaps his talks with the vicar, who had been one of his constant visitors, had had something to do with this determination; and, certainly, the long nights of wakefulness and pain he had endured, during which his conscience had spoken to him plainly, and he had seemed alone with God, had taught him much, and influenced him aright.
"How strange it seems to have father down with us again," remarked Mrs. Lethbridge. "I feel so glad and thankful!"
"Father!" cried Molly. "You haven't noticed my picture! Look!"
The father followed the direction of the child's pointing finger, and then gave a start of surprise as he saw the picture of the Good Shepherd hanging on the wall.