cs in
her bedroom, and is going on like a mad woman. You must be calm, dear,
for your father's sake."

Ned gave a little nod, and, taking his brother's hand, opened the door
of the parlor.

Captain Sankey was lying on the hearth rug, his head propped up with
pillows from the sofa; his face was an ashen pallor, and his eyes were
closed. The doctor was kneeling beside him, pouring some liquid from a
glass between his lips. A strong friendship had sprung up between
the two men, and tears were running fast down the doctor's cheeks. He
motioned to the boys to approach. They fell on their knees by their
father's side.

"Sankey," the doctor said in a steady voice, "here are your boys, Ned
and Charlie."

The eyes of the dying man opened slowly, and he looked at his sons, and
Ned felt a slight pressure of the hand which he had taken in his own.

"God bless you, my boys!" he said, in a faint whisper. "Ned, be kind to
your mother; care for her always. She will need all your kindness."

"I will, father," the boy said steadily. "I will take care of mother, I
promise you."

A faint smile passed over the pale face; then the eyes closed again, and
there was silence for five minutes, broken only by the sobbing of the
younger boy. The doctor, who had his fingers on the pulse of Captain
Sankey, leaned closely over him; then he laid his arm gently down, and
putting his hand on Ned's shoulder said softly:

"Come, my boy, your father is out of pain now."

Ned gave one loud and bitter cry, and threw himself down by the side of
the corpse, and gave way to his pent up emotion.

The doctor led the younger boy from the room, and gave him into the care
of Abijah. Then he returned and stood for awhile watching Ned's terrible
outburst of grief; then he poured some wine into a glass.

"My boy," he said tenderly, "you must not give way like this or you will
make yourself ill. Drink this, Ned, and then go up and lie down on your
bed until you feel better. Remember you must be strong for the sake of
the others. You know you will have to bear your mother's burdens as well
as your own."

He helped Ned to his feet and held the glass to his lips, for the boy's
hand was shaking so that he could not have held it. After drinking it
Ned stumbled upstairs and threw himself on the bed, and there cried
silently for a long time; but the first passion of grief had passed, and
he now struggled with his tears, and in an hour rose, bathed his flushed
an