“And then he opened his eyes and said faintly,—‘It doesn’t hurt much; and, mother dear, father wasn’t to blame.’

“‘And you’re not afraid, my Davie?’ I asked; and he said—

“‘No, I needn’t be, need I, mother? Jim’s gone there, and baby—and Jesus died. Pray, mother!’

“And so I did, a few broken words; and then he died with a smile on his face, which hadn’t left it when we covered it for the last time.”

The pause was longer this time. Fidelia rose and moved away, and stood looking over to the hills on the other side of the valley for a little while, and when she came back Mrs Stone’s face was quite calm, though there were traces of tears upon it.

“It wasn’t till after some time that I heard just how it happened. The boy whose business it was to drive the team of the reaping machine hadn’t come, and Davie was only too proud and happy to be just in his place. His father had been loth to let him try at first, but he consented, and all went well for a while. But the horses were young, and took fright—at what no one knew—and they ran away, with my Davie sitting where he never ought to have been. His father met them at a corner of the fence which they had tried to get over, and by sheer strength held them there till the man came to take the child from the wreck. Ezra never knew that he was hurt till he tried to lift his boy. He knew Davie was in a bad case, even before the men got him out from the ruins of the machine. But he did not think he was going to die till they laid him down on an armful of the fallen wheat; and then he came home, and the men followed with the poor little boy.

“Well, we had a sad time after that. The harvest was long over before my husband was able to go to the fields again. Besides his broken arm he was hurt inwardly, and his nerves gave way. It was weeks before he could look out on the sunshiny fields without a shudder. But he gradually got better after awhile. The harvest didn’t suffer. The men worked well, and the neighbours helped, and it was all saved and well sold, and a great deal of money—or what seemed a great deal to me—came in for it, and passed through my hands. It was the first time I had ever had a chance to know anything about Ezra’s money matters; but he was glad of my help now, and didn’t resent my having to do with it, as I was afraid he might. But he saw that the money didn’t mean all to me that it meant to him: it wasn’t much to me just then, for my boy’s death had been a hard blow to me. I was worn out with Ezra too. A man just well enough to be able to be about, and too sick to do as he has been used to, is a dead weight on a woman’s hands, I can tell you.

“I did the best I could for him, and was not so impatient with his fancies, or with the fretfulness and fault-finding that filled the days for a while; for by this time I had come to see some things differently. I had come over some rough places, but the Lord had been leading me, and I didn’t rebel under Davie’s loss as I had when we lost the others. I didn’t make much headway with my husband. It was only once in a great while that I could say or do anything to please him, but I laid it to his state of mind and body; and I took some comfort, in knowing that he was a little less miserable when I was by than when I was away.

“Dan wasn’t just like the other boys. He wasn’t so bright, for one thing. He was the least like his mother of any of them. He was shy, and hadn’t as much to say for himself as Jim had had; but he helped his father a good deal at this time. He took notice of all that was done or that needed to be done on the place, and coaxed his father out to see to things which he couldn’t do himself. And this took the poor man’s thoughts off from himself, and did him good in other ways.

“He had been much hurt, and he knew that he would never be the same man again; and for a while—and that was the worst time of all—he couldn’t but feel that he might be going to die, and he knew he wasn’t ready. I knew what his thoughts were, only by words muttered when he thought I was asleep, or out of the way. I read to him, and I prayed for him every hour of the day; but I hadn’t the faculty of speech on the subject nearest my heart. When I did say a word he never answered me, and there was no one else to say much to him.