ys on this barren farm," I said to
Dr. Cross, and my self-accusation spurred me to sterner resolve.

It was not a pleasant time for my good friend, but, as it turned out,
there was a special providence in his being there, for a few days later,
while Jessie and I were seated in the little sitting-room busily
discussing plans for her schooling we heard a short, piercing cry,
followed by low sobbing.

Hurrying out into the yard, I saw my mother standing a few yards from
the door, her sweet face distorted, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"What is it, mother?" I called out.

"I can't lift my feet," she stammered, putting her arms about my neck.
"I can't move!" and in her voice was such terror and despair that my
blood chilled.

It was true! She was helpless. From the waist downward all power of
locomotion had departed. Her feet were like lead, drawn to the earth by
some terrible magnetic power.

In a frenzy of alarm, Jessie and I carried her into the house and laid
her on her bed. My heart burned with bitter indignation. "This is the
end," I said. "Here is the result of long years of ceaseless toil. She
has gone as her mother went, in the midst of the battle."

At the moment I cursed the laws of man, I cursed myself. I accused my
father. Each moment my remorse and horror deepened, and yet I could do
nothing, nothing but kneel beside the bed and hold her hand while
Jessie ran to call the doctor. She returned soon to say she could not
find him.

Slowly the stricken one grew calmer and at last, hearing a wagon drive
into the yard, I hurried out to tell my father what had happened. He
read in my face something wrong. "What's the matter?" he asked as I drew
near.

"Mother is stricken," I said. "She cannot walk."

He stared at me in silence, his gray eyes expanding like those of an
eagle, then calmly, mechanically he got down and began to unhitch the
team. He performed each habitual act with most minute care, till I,
impatient of his silence, his seeming indifference, repeated, "Don't you
understand? Mother has had a stroke! She is absolutely helpless."

Then he asked, "Where is your friend Dr. Cross?"

"I don't know, I thought he was with you."

Even as I was calling for him, Dr. Cross came into the cabin, his arms
laden with roses. He had been strolling about on the prairie.

With his coming hope returned. Calmly yet skillfully he went to the aid
of the sufferer, while father, Jessie and I sat in agonized su