"I do not care for it, or my position in it now."
"Don't say that, Sid."
"Father, I was working for you, and for your comfort in the future—now let all thoughts of the world go away for awhile, and leave you and me together—thus!"
He laid his hand upon the father's, which clutched his nervously.
"Oh! but what is to become of you?"
"Do you fear my getting on, with the long years before me wherein I can work?"
"No, you are sure to rise, Sid."
Sidney did not answer.
"Unless you grow despondent at the difficulties in the way, or let some secret trouble weigh you down. Sid, my dear son, there's nothing on your mind?"
"Oh! no—nothing. Don't think that," was the quick response—the white lie, for which Sidney Hinchford deserved forgiveness. He would keep his sorrows to himself, and not distress that deathbed by his own vain complainings against any affliction in store for him!