“It was just what I wished to do yesterday. I will do all I can for him, I'm sure. I always liked him as a boy; you can tell her that. But I don't feel, somehow—today, at least—as if I could do any good by seeing her.”
“Oh, why not?”
“I don't think I'm in the right humor. Is she very ill?”
“Yes, very ill indeed; I don't think she can recover.”
“Well, you see, Katie, I'm not used to death-beds. I shouldn't say the right sort of thing.”
“How do you mean—the right sort of thing?”
“Oh, you know. I couldn't talk to her about her soul. I'm not fit for it, and it isn't my place.”
“No, indeed, it isn't. But you can remind her of old times and say a kind word about her son.”
“Very well, if you don't think I shall do any harm.”
“I'm sure it will comfort her. And now tell me about yesterday.”