, "can't you stay with me?"

"Yes, father, night and day while you want me."

"That's right! It's a good thing to have a good son. Dr. Barton, where are
you going?"

"To your daughter, sir, Mrs. Johnson."

"Enna! is she much hurt?" asked the old man, starting up, but falling back
instantly with almost a scream of pain.

"You must lie still, sir, indeed you must," said the doctor, coming back
to the bed; "your life depends upon your keeping quiet and exciting
yourself as little as possible."

"Yes, yes; but Enna?"

"Has no bones broken."

"Thank God for that! then she'll do. Go, doctor, but don't leave the house
without seeing me again."

They were glad he was so easily satisfied, but knew he would not be if his
mind were quite clear.

Dick had come home in strong excitement, rumors of the accident having met
him on the way. The horses had taken fright at the sudden shriek of a
locomotive, and the breaking of a defective bit had deprived the old
gentleman of the power to control them. They ran madly down a steep
embankment, wrecking the carriage and throwing both passengers out upon a
bed of stones.

Pale and trembling the lad went straight to his mother's room where he
found her lying moaning on the bed, recognizing no one, unconscious of
anything that was going on about her.

He discovered that he loved her far more than he would have believed; he
thought her dying, and his heart smote him, as memory recalled many a
passionate, undutiful word he had spoken to her; often, it is true, under
great provocation, but oh, what would he not now have given to recall
them.

He had much ado to control his emotion sufficiently to ask the doctor what
he thought of her case. He was somewhat comforted by the reply,

"The injury to the head is very serious, yet I by no means despair of her
life."

"What can I do for her?" was the boy's next question in an imploring tone
as though he would esteem it a boon to be permitted to do something for
her relief.

"Nothing; we have plenty of help here, and you are too inexperienced for a
nurse," Dr. Barton said, not unkindly. "But see to your sister Molly," he
added. "Poor child! she will feel this sorely."

The admonition was quite superfluous; Dick was already hastening to her.

Another moment and she was weening out her sorrow and anxiety on his
shoulder.

"O Dick," she sobbed, "I'm afraid I can never speak to her again, and--and
my last words to her, just before she