larated.

"Traverse, I said your mother is in no immediate danger of death, for
that, in fact, she has no disease; but yet, Traverse, brace yourself up,
for I am about to strike you a heavy blow. Traverse, Marah Rocke is
starving!"

"Starving! Heaven of heavens! no! that is not so! it cannot be! My
mother starving! oh, horrible! horrible! But, doctor, it cannot--cannot
be! Why, we have two meals a day at our house!" cried the boy, almost
beside himself with agitation.

"Lad, there are other starvations besides the total lack of food. There
are slow starvations and divers ones. Marah Rocke is starving slowly and
in every way--mind, soul and body. Her body is slowly wasting from the
want of proper nutriment, her heart from the want of human sympathy, her
mind from the need of social intercourse. Her whole manner of life must
be changed if she is to live at all."

"Oh, sir, I understand you now. I feel, I feel that you speak the very
truth. Something must be done. I must do something. What shall it be?
Oh, advise me, sir."

"I must reflect a little, Traverse," said the doctor, thoughtfully, as
he drove along with very slack reins.

"And, oh, how thoughtless of me! I forgot--indeed, I did, sir--when I so
gladly accepted your offer for me to read with you. I forgot that if I
spent every day reading in your office, my mother would sadly miss the
dollar and a half a week I make by doing odd jobs in town."

"But I did not forget it, boy; rest easy upon that score; and now let me
reflect how we can best serve your good little mother," said the doctor;
and he drove slowly and thoughtfully along for about twenty minutes
before he spoke again, when he said:

"Traverse, Monday is the first of the month. You shall set in with me
then. Come to me, therefore, on Monday, and I think by that time I shall
have thought upon some plan for your mother. In the mean time, you make
as much money at jobs as you can, and also you must accept from me for
her a bottle or so of port wine and a turkey or two. Tell her, if she
demurs, that it is the doctor's prescription, and that, for fear of
accident, he always prefers to send his own physic."

"Oh, Doctor Day, if I could only thank you aright!" cried Traverse.

"Pooh, pooh! nonsense! there is no time for it. Here we are at Spicer's
grocery store, where I suppose you are again employed. Yes? Well, jump
out, then. You can still make half a day. Mind, remember on Monday next,
December 1st,