"And David killed the giant," Mrs. Barton was saying in her dear, sweet voice, "killed him with a sling and a stone."
"A sort of catapult, I suppose?" Theodore queried. "What a first-rate shot David must have been!"
"Yes. You see it is not always the strongest that wins. David was only a lad; but he trusted in God, and God was with him—"
She broke off suddenly as her husband came forward. Theodore turned crimson, and regarded his father with startled eyes.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Mary," Mr. Barton said gently, "but I want a few words with Theodore before he goes to bed. Theodore, come downstairs into the library with me."
[CHAPTER IX.]
LITTLE JACK AT DEATH'S DOOR.
LATE that night, when all the household had presumably gone to rest, a little figure, clad in a scarlet dressing-gown, stole softly into Jack's bedroom, and, carefully closing the door, crept up to the bed.
"Is that you, Theodore?" Jack asked anxiously. "I thought you would come. Oh! I have been so very unhappy! Dear Theo, what is the matter? What did father say to you?"
For Theodore was weeping bitterly. He climbed on the edge of the bed, and laying his head on the pillow, sobbed as though his heart would break. Much distressed, Jack put his arm lovingly around his stepbrother's neck, and wept in sympathy. But Theodore's tears did not last long; he presently sat up, and explained the whole story of his troubles and misdeeds to his attentive listener.