CHAPTER XIII.
CONCLUSION.
Mrs. Parlin saw the wagon driving up to the porch door, and came out trembling and too much frightened to speak. She supposed at first that Willy had not come, for she did not see him till Seth and Stephen lifted him out of the wagon, a dead weight between them.
O, her baby—her baby; what had happened to her dear wee Willie?
"There, there, mother, don't be frightened," said Stephen, cheerily; "his tramp has been too much for him; that's all. I guess we'll carry him right up stairs to bed."
"I—want—some—supper," moaned the little rebel, waking up just as they were laying him on his bed in the pink chamber.
His mother and Love watched him with real pleasure, as he devoured cold meat and bread, all they dared let him have, but not half as much as he craved. Then he fell asleep again, and did not wake till noon of the next day. His mother was bending over him with the tenderest love, just as if he had never given her a moment's trouble in his life. That was just like his dear mother, and it was more than Willy could bear; he threw his arms round her neck, and buried his face in her bosom, completely subdued.
"O, mother, mother, I'll never do so again."
"My darling, I am sure you never will."