But the invalid closed her eyes, and murmured faintly—
"Too late, too late. My life is gone—wasted, wasted," she murmured, more and more feebly.
Jack was awestruck, and crept away as gently as he could to fetch some help for Jessie. As he went out he met Polly coming in with her arms full of parcels of various sorts and sizes.
"Jessie is upstairs," he whispered. "I think your mother is worse, and I am going to fetch somebody."
"Oh, fetch your mother, Jack! She knows just what we want, and we don't mind her seeing things, because she won't go and talk about it to other people. Oh, do fetch her!" added Polly, imploringly.
"I'll go and see if she can come," answered Jack. "But you had better go and tell the doctor that your mother is worse, and ask him to come at once;" And then he ran off towards home, and reached the gate in time to see his mother open the door.
"Where have you been, my boy?" she asked as he came up the steps.
"Over at Jessie's. Can you go now, mother? I think Mrs. Collins is dying. She spoke so solemn a little while ago."
"Dying!" repeated his mother, in a startled tone, "I never thought it would be so soon as this."
"I wish you could have heard what she said about wasting her life," said Jack. "Couldn't you go to Jessie, and let me sit beside father's bed and bathe his head? That's all there is to do, isn't it?"