"Oh, Mother, may I go skating? it is so nice—Ed and Charlie are going."
"Henry," feebly said the mother, "the ice is not hard enough yet."
"But, Mother," very pettishly said the boy, "you are sick all the time— how do you know?"
"My child, you must obey me," gently said his mother.
"It is too bad," angrily sobbed the boy, who an hour ago had so loved his mother.
"I would not like to have my little boy go," said the mother, looking sadly at the little boy's face, all covered with frowns; "you said you loved me—be good."
"No, I don't love you now, Mother," said the boy, going out and slamming the door.
Again that dreadful coughing came upon her, and we thought no more of the boy. After the coughing had commenced, I noticed tears falling thick upon her pillow, but she sank from exhaustion into a light sleep.
In a little while muffled steps of men's feet were heard coming into the house, as though carrying something; and they were carrying the almost lifeless body of Henry.
Angrily had he left his mother and gone to skate—disobeying her; and then broken through the ice, sunk under the water, and now saved by a great effort, was brought home barely alive to his sick mother.