Little John was evidently in pain, for I heard him moaning as I went
upstairs.

'I should get a doctor, Polly,' I said.

'So Duncan says, sir; we shall have to send for him in the morning if
he's no better.'

I slept calmly and peacefully, and I woke up to feel that I was
beginning an entirely new life. Henceforth I was not my own. I was
standing on the heavenward side of the line, and I had taken my place
amongst the servants of Christ. I had never felt so happy before.

Duncan had set off for the doctor before I was down that morning. Little
John was better, Polly said, but was still very feverish, and would eat
nothing. She brought him down before I went off to my work, wrapped in a
shawl, and I thought he looked very ill, but I did not like to say so.

Duncan came in just at that moment, and the child put out his arms to
his father, and he took him on his knee by the fire, and when I came
home to dinner he was still lying there.

'Has the doctor been?' I asked.

'No, sir; he was out when I called this morning. He had gone to a bad
case, they said, ten miles off, but I left a message. I hope he'll come
before I go this evening. I should be more comfortable like if he did.'

However, the evening came, and Duncan's mates were whistling for him
from the shore, and the doctor had not appeared. The boy was still in
his father's arms, and he was walking up and down the kitchen to soothe
him.

'It's hard to leave him, sir,' he said, when he heard the whistle, 'but
he seems a bit better, I think, this afternoon; he hasn't cried so much,
has he, Polly?'

But I saw there were tears in his eyes as he gave the boy to his mother.

'I'll walk with you to the shore, Duncan,' I said, for I saw that the
poor fellow was very downcast.

'Thank you kindly, sir,' he answered.

I stood on the shore whilst the nets and fishing tackle were put on
board, then he said in a low voice,--

'It's a comfort to feel you will be near my poor lass to-night, sir. It
cuts me to the heart to leave her; if anything happens to little John,
whatever would me and my missus do! But the Lord knows, sir--He knows,'
he repeated, and he wiped away a tear which fell on my hand as he
grasped it.

I went back to Duncan's house, to find the doctor there. It was
influenza and pneumonia, he said, and the boy must be kept in one room.
He was a very silent man, and whether he thought it was a serious case
or not I could not discover.

I determined