The last part of the word was lost in violent coughing that racked the boy’s feeble frame terribly.
“I am afraid you are talking too much, Tom,” said Herbert. “We must not allow you to say any more at present.”
Ten days later, and Tom had grown too weak to be dressed. Part of the time he lay bolstered up in bed, but even this taxed his strength too heavily. He had become very much wasted, and was little more than a skeleton. All hope of his recovery had been given up, and it was now simply a question of how long he could be kept alive. Bob and Herbert brought him choice fruits, and drew liberally from their slender purses, to buy for him whatever would tend to make him more comfortable or would gratify his fancy.
Poor Mrs. Flannery was almost overcome with sorrow as she saw her boy wasting away and sinking lower and lower as each day passed by. He was her only child, and she loved him with all the force of her great mother’s heart.
At length the end came. Bob and Herbert were present with the grief-stricken mother, trying to comfort her and struggling to repress the sorrow each felt at the close approach of death.
For several hours the sick boy had been in a sort of stupor from which it seemed probable that he would never rally. He lay like one dead, scarcely breathing. Towards midnight, however, he opened his eyes and looked upon the three tear stained faces beside his bed. An expression of deepest pity settled upon his countenance, and he spoke with much effort, saying:
“Don’t cry, mother; don’t feel so bad for me. You have Bob and Herbert left. They will look out for you when I am gone,” whispered the dying boy faintly, and he turned his eyes for confirmation to the friend who had never failed him.
“Yes,” answered Bob, pressing the sufferer’s hand warmly. “We will do everything you could wish us to for your mother—you would have done it for either of us, Tom.”
The latter’s eyes moistened and grew bright with a feeling of joy at this assurance from Bob—this last proof of his true friendship.
“I knew it before, mother,” he said, nerving himself for the effort, “but it makes me happy to hear him say it before you—to hear him say it before I go.”