"Are you comfortable, Benjamin?" Dr. Lavendar asked him. There was no reply.
Samuel's face reddened. "You can't tell when he hears," he said. It was then that Simmons put out his hand and patted the bedclothes over the old feet.
They sat there beside him for an hour before Benjamin Wright spoke again; then William King came in, and stood looking down at him.
"He'll just sleep away," he told the son.
"I hope he is prepared," said Samuel, and sighed. He turned his back on the big bed with the small figure sliding down and down towards the foot-board, and looked out of the window. The boy had not been prepared!
Suddenly, without opening his eyes, Benjamin Wright began:
"'Animula vagula blandula,
Hospes comesque corporis,
Qua nunc abibis in loca?'
"What do you think, Lavendar?"
"It will return to God, who gave it," said Dr. Lavendar.
There was another silence; until he wakened to say, brightly, "Simmons, you freckled nigger, you'd better wring their necks, now, I guess."