'Yes—for me and you, mother,' said the child.
'Poppy,' said her mother, 'I think He's going to give you the biggest share of it. I think I'm going to die, Poppy, and leave you all. Oh! Poppy, Poppy, Poppy!' and she sobbed as if her heart would break.
Poppy felt as if she were dreaming, and could not understand what her mother was saying. Mrs. Byres, in the house opposite, had died a little time before, but then she had been ill in bed for many a month; and Mrs. Jack's little boy and girl had died, but then they had had a fever. Her mother could walk about, and could go out to work, and could look after the babies. How could she be going to die?
'I didn't like to tell you, Poppy,' her mother went on; 'but it is true, my darling, and it's better you should know before it comes.'
'But, mother, you are not ill, are you?' said the child; and as she said this she looked at her mother. Yes, she certainly did look very thin, and pale, and tired, as she sat by the fire.
'I'm failing fast, Poppy,' said her mother; 'wasting away. I've felt it coming on me a long time, dear—before your father went away. And last week I got a ticket for the dispensary, and the doctor said he couldn't do nothing for me; it was too late, he said. If it wasn't for you and the babies, Poppy, I would be glad to go, for I'm very, very tired.'
'Mother,' said Poppy, with a great sob, 'however will we get along without you?'
'I don't know,' said the poor woman. 'I don't know, Poppy; but the good Lord knows; and He is a good Lord, child. He's never failed me yet, and I know He'll help you—I know He will. Come to me, my darling.'
And the mother took her little girl in her arms, and held her to her bosom, and they had a good cry together.
But before very long the twins awoke, and Poppy and her mother began their work again.