"How is he?" asked Maggie, her heart bounding with fear lest she should be told that her poor father was no more.
"He's a little better; but the docthor says it'll be a long day till he is able to handle his razors again. What's this he called the disase? The para-ly-sis! That's just what it is!"
"Poor mon père!" sighed Maggie.
"We would like to see him, if you please," added Leo.
"And who be you? Are you his children?" asked Lawrence.
"We are."
"I'm sorry for you; but he's very bad," added Lawrence, who had an Irish heart under his vest, as he closed the front door.
"Is he—will he—"
Poor Maggie could not ask the question she desired to ask, and she covered her face and wept.
"No, he won't," replied Lawrence, tenderly. "He won't die. The docthor says he's comin' out of it; but the para-ly-sis will bodther him for a long time."