“I hadn’t a word to say. I must have been a wicked woman. For half a minute it seemed to me that heaven itself would be spoiled if Ezra Stone were there.
“‘And you must help him, mother,’ said Jim.
“‘I haven’t helped him much lately about anything,’ I said.
“‘No; I think you’re a little hard on father, mother;’ and then he turned on his pillow and put his two arms round my neck, and drew my face down to his. His words hurt me dreadfully.
“‘The Lord Himself will have to take hold to change him,’ I said.
“‘Yes, of course, mother; and you’ll help him.’
“He didn’t say any more; and in awhile he fell asleep, and neither of us stirred till I heard his father’s step on the floor. I did not stir then, though it had been our way all those years to keep out of his sight any special sign of affection between us.
“He came in and stood a spell looking at us, I suppose; and then he went out, knowing for certain the thing which in his heart he had been dreading all along, for he must have seen the signs of death on his boy’s face that day.
“Jim lived full three weeks after that, and he was a very happy boy. His fear of his father had all gone. Jim showed how glad he was every time he came into the room; and he would smile, and hold his hand, and speak softly to him, words which the rest of us could not hear, till he could stand it no longer. Then Ezra would rise and go out alone. He never came to me for comfort, and, if he had, I had none to give.
“Just once I heard Jim say, ‘You will, won’t you, father? God will help you, and—mother.’