That will do boys, said the old man. Let her lay quiet now. She will soon be herself again.
Rolla had been an anxious spectator of the scene we have described. Standing with his fore-feet on the foot of the bed looking intently into Amy’s face, he gave three suppressed barks.
The child is safe, exclaimed the old man.
Just then Rolla gave a mournful whine.
But, continued the old man, the mother will never see the sun set again. The dog, by some intuitive knowledge, sees life for the child, but death for the mother.
Then came a moment of suspense. The house was as silent as the grave, and all present stood gazing on the marble forms before them. A flush came into Amy’s face. Her eyes open.
Ma-ma—Rol—Rol!
And again all was silent.
She speaks, said Betsy, and her first thought is of her mother.
And her second of her dog, said Tom.