"Oh, Auntie-ma!" she cried, "come, come quickly, pa won't wake, nor speak!"
Heigho! the summons had come, and dear "Uncle-pa" would never, never wake again.
This is a short chapter, but it is too sad to continue.
So falls the curtain on the first act of this life-drama.
[CHAPTER VIII--FIERCELY AND WILDLY BOTH SIDES FOUGHT]
The gloomy event related in last chapter must not be allowed to cast a damper over our story.
Of course death is always and everywhere hovering near, but why should boys like you and me, reader, permit that truth to cloud our days or stand between us and happiness?
Two years, then, have elapsed since poor, brave Tom St. Clair's death.
He is buried near the edge of the forest in a beautiful enclosure where rare shrubs grow, and where flowers trail and climb far more beautiful than any we ever see in England.
At first Mrs. St. Clair had determined to sell all off and go back to the old country, but her overseer Jake Solomons and Mr. Peter persuaded her not to, or it seemed that it was their advice which kept her from carrying out her first intentions. But she had another reason, she found she could not leave that lonesome grave yet awhile.