"Thank yer, miss. I tell yer, he's a crooked little chap, but he's as smart as they make 'em; 'nd annyhow, he's all the folks I've got in the world, 'nd I hope we kin pull him through."
"Pull him through!" Had years passed over Patsy's head since I saw him last? He seemed to have grown old with the night's pain, but the eyes shone out with new lustre and brilliancy, making ready, I thought, to receive the heavenly visions.
We were alone. I could not bear Mr. Kennett's presence, and had dispatched him for the doctor. I knelt by the bedside, and took his cold hand in mine. I could not pray God to spare him, it was so clear that He had better take him to Himself.
"I knowed you'd come, Miss Kate," he said faintly; "I knowed you'd hurry up; you's allers hurryin' up for us boys."
Oh, how beautiful, how awesome, it is to be the messenger of peace to an unhappy soul! So great a joy is it to bear that it is not given to many twice in a lifetime.
The rain beat upon the frail roof, the wind blew about the little house, and a darkness of fast-gathering black clouds fell into the room in place of the morning sunbeams. It was a gloomy day for a journey, but if one were traveling from shadow into sunshine, I thought, it would not matter much.
"Mis' Kennett says I must hev a priest, but I don't want no priest but you," whispered the faint voice as I bent over the pillows. "What does priests do when folks is sick, Miss Kate?"
"They pray, Patsy."
"What fur?"