rested now, David. I will cook me an egg."

"No, I will," insisted the boy, going to the stove.

A few moments later, with infinite satisfaction, he watched her
partake of crisp toast, fresh eggs, and savory tea.

"Did you see Jud and Janey?" she asked suddenly.

"No; they were at school."

"David, you shall go regularly to school next fall."

"No," said David stoutly; "next fall I am going to work regularly for
some of the farmers, and you are not going to wash any more."

Her eyes grew moist.

"David, will you always be good--will you grow up to be as good a man
as I want you to be?"

"How good do you want me to be?" he asked dubiously.

A radiant and tender smile played about her mouth.

"Not goodygood, David; but will you always be honest, and brave, and
kind, as you are now?"

"I'll try, mother."

"And never forget those who do you a kindness, David; always show your
gratitude."

"Yes, mother."

"And, David, watch your temper and, whatever happens, I shall have no
fears for your future."

His mother seldom talked to him in this wise. He thought about it
after he lay in his little cot in the sitting room that night; then
his mind wandered to Joe Forbes and his wonderful tales of the West.
He fell asleep to dream of cowboys and prairies. When he awoke the sun
was sending golden beams through the eastward window.

"Mother isn't up," he thought in surprise. He stole quietly out to the
kitchen, kindled a fire with as little noise as possible, put the
kettle over, set the table, and then went into the one tiny bedroom
where his mother lay in her bed, still--very still.

"Mother," he said softly.

There was no response.

"Mother," he repeated. Then piercingly, in excitement and fear,
"Mother!"

At last he knew.

He ran wildly to the outer door. Bill Winters, fortunately sober, was
driving slowly by.

"Bill!"

"What's the matter, Dave?" looking into the boy's white face. "Your ma
ain't sick, is she?"

David's lips quivered, but seemed almost unable to articulate.

"She's dead," he finally whispered.

"I'll send Zine right over," exclaimed Bill, slapping the reins
briskly across the drooping neck of his horse.

Very soon the little house was filled to overflowing with kind and
sympathetic neighbors who had come to do all that had to be done.
David sat on the back doorstep until M'ri came; before the expression
in his eyes she felt powerless to comfort him.

"The doctor says your moth