"Not much, dear; he has never got over that illness, and sometimes I think that he will not live much longer; but I cannot let him go—my boy—my youngest—my little Maurice."
"Mother, we will pray to God to make him well; and you say God always hears us when we pray."
"Yes, dear, yes, he does; pray to him, dear Nellie; we will all pray to him to spare little Maurice."
The mother and daughter had not perceived that Mr. Smith had entered the room, and was standing opposite to them.
"What's the matter, eh? what's the matter?" said the old man, as Ellen looked up, and he caught sight of the tears on her cheeks. Mrs. Shipton got up quickly and hurried out of the room; and Ellen dried her eyes, and busied herself in putting the work away.
Just then Janet came in with Maurice, and they eagerly claimed a story from Mr. Smith. The old man looked earnestly at them for a minute, and then said, "I don't know any story to-night, little ones."
"Then tell us something about the country," said Maurice.
"You should see a corn-field, children; that's the sight," said Mr. Smith. "Oh, how you'd like to see them binding up the sheaves, and how quickly the sickles cut down the ripe grain!"
"But don't the men cut down beautiful flowers at the same time?" said Janet. "Father used to tell us about the flowers."
The old man was silent for a moment, and then said quickly, "Flowers—ah! poor children, you don't know what flowers are here, in your smoky, dirty town."