whistled up the road at the crossing. "Come, we have just
time to get to the station," said Mrs. Sherman, holding out her hand.

They went through the gate, down the narrow path that ran beside the
dusty road. The train had just stopped in front of the little station
when they reached it.

A number of gentlemen, coming out from the city to spend Sunday at the
hotel, came down the steps. They glanced admiringly from the beautiful,
girlish face of the mother to the happy child dancing impatiently up and
down at her side. They could not help smiling at Fritz as he frisked
about in his imposing rose-collar.

"Why, where's Papa Jack?" asked Lloyd, in distress, as passenger after
passenger stepped down. "Isn't he goin' to come?"

The tears were beginning to gather in her eyes, when she saw him in the
door of the car; not hurrying along to meet them as he always used to
come, so full of life and vigour, but leaning heavily on the porter's
shoulder, looking very pale and weak.

Lloyd looked up at her mother, from whose face every particle of colour
had faded. Mrs. Sherman gave a low, frightened cry as she sprang forward
to meet him. "Oh, Jack! what is the matter? What has happened to you?"
she exclaimed, as he took her in his arms. The train had gone on, and
they were left alone on the platform.

"Just a little sick spell," he answered, with a smile. "We had a fire
out at the mines, and I overtaxed myself some. I've had fever ever
since, and it has pulled me down considerably."

"I must send somebody for a carriage," she said, looking around
anxiously.

"No, indeed," he protested. "It's only a few steps; I can walk it
as well as not. The sight of you and the baby has made me stronger
already."

He sent a coloured boy on ahead with his valise, and they walked slowly
up the path, with Fritz running wildly around them, barking a glad
welcome.

"How sweet and homelike it all looks!" he said, as he stepped into the
hall, where Mom Beck was just lighting the lamps. Then he sank down on
the couch, completely exhausted, and wearily closed his eyes.

The Little Colonel looked at his white face in alarm. All the gladness
seemed to have been taken out of the homecoming.

Her mother was busy trying to make him comfortable, and paid no
attention to the disconsolate little figure wandering about the house
alone. Mom Beck had gone for the doctor.

The supper was drying up in the warming-oven. The ice-cream was melting
in the