"Shall I pray for you to-night, Jack, darling?"
"Please, mother; I can't remember."
His mother repeated very slowly and distinctly the first prayer she had taught his baby lips to lisp—that prayer to our Father in Heaven which embraces all our needs; and Jack faintly whispered the words after her, a look of perfect happiness and contentment settling on his face.
"Stay with me, Theo," he whispered. "Don't go away."
And Theodore, who was really very sleepy, replied drowsily, "All right, old fellow," and laid his head on the pillow by his stepbrother's side.
A few minutes later the doctor moved to the bed, and after a moment's scrutiny of its occupants, turned a smiling glance towards the others.
"Your little son will recover from this attack," he told the anxious mother in a whisper, as he shook hands with her. "You had better let the children remain as they are. They are both asleep."
He followed Mr. Barton out of the room, whilst Mrs. Barton approached the bed and saw that the boys were indeed sleeping peacefully. She gazed at them with a world of thankfulness depicted in her expressive face, her eyes misty with tears. Jane fetched a warm shawl and wrapped it around Theodore, who had laid himself down outside the bedclothes.
The night was nearly gone, and the first streaks of dawn were appearing in the eastern sky as the two women sat down to watch, one on either side of the bed. No word was spoken, but each heart was full to overflowing with joy and gladness at the knowledge that little Jack was better! and Mrs. Barton, as her eyes rested on the sleeping children, felt that Theodore, wilful and mistrustful of her as he seemed to be, could never be otherwise than dear to her, for the sake of the love he bore her little son.