* * * * *
He knew that his father had left them nothing but what was in the house. He had not spoken to his mother about it. He had been beside her bed until after dawn when, with a gentle sigh, she had slipped off into a merciful sleep.
Mrs. Sprockett, who left them only for a few minutes in the morning, he thanked with a guilty feeling of having not appreciated what she had done. The doctor had spoken to him kindly.
"My boy," he said, "this comes to all of us. Your father passed as gently as he lived. Remember, there's no sorrow nor suffering where he has gone and—be good to your mother."
It was not until after the funeral that John and his mother talked of the life before them. He told her that they would not have to leave their little home, that he would quit school and find work so they could go on together.
"Dearest, dearest mother, you shall be with me always," he said to her. But she replied:
"We owe a heavy debt, John, that must be paid at once."
He saw she was worrying over the expense of his father's funeral. He knew how sensitive she was about debts.
"I can get money somewhere, dearest mother," he said. "Don't worry."