Went off to Sleep.
Chris was, as they say, “fast as a top,” but he was the first to awaken in the morning, according to his regular custom, just when the orange sun was beginning to tinge the east, and jumping up and scrambling on his clothes he stepped out into the cool dawn, with the intention of having a look at the bony features which had haunted his dreams. But just as he reached the open doorway and was about to step cautiously inside, there was a faint rustling sound which made his heart seem to stand still with the chill of horror which ran through him, for from out of the darkness where the stranger had been laid a shadowy form rose up and came forward.
The feeling of dread was only momentary, though it was succeeded by a strange shrinking from coming face to face with the awe-inspiring object of his solicitude. But the boy stood firm.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said to himself, and then wonderingly—“You, father!”
“Yes, my boy; what is it?”
“I only came to see if the man was awake.”
“Half,” said the doctor. “He is slightly conscious at times. You are early, my boy.”
“Not so early as you are, father,” said the boy, smiling. “How long have you been here?”
“All through the night, my boy.”
“Oh!”