always be good. I am sorry I robbed the bird's nests last summer—I'll never do it again. Please, Lord I'm such a wee boy and I'm so lonely. I can't lose my Mama!"—and the voice choked and became, a great sob. He looked across the square as he passed the court house in a gallop and saw a light in the window of the parsonage and felt its rays warm his soul like an answer to his prayer.
He reached the doctor's house on the further side of the town, sprang from the mare's back, bounded up the steps and knocked at the door. No one answered. He knocked again. How loud it rang through the hall! May be the doctor was gone! He had not thought of such a possibility before. He choked at the thought. Springing quickly from the steps to the ground he felt for a stone, bounded back and began to pound on the door with all his might.
The window was raised, and the old doctor thrust his head out calling,
"What on earth's the matter? Who is that?"
"It's me, Charlie Gaston—my Mama's sick—she's awful sick, I'm afraid she's dying—you must come quick!"
"All right, sonny, I'll be ready in a minute."
The boy waited and waited. It seemed to him hours, days, weeks, years! To every impatient call the doctor would answer,
"In a minute, sonny, in a minute!"
At last he emerged with his lantern, to catch his horse. The doctor seemed so slow. He fumbled over the harness.
"Oh! Doctor you're so slow! I tell you my Mama's sick—!"
"Well, well, my boy, we'll soon be there," the old man kindly replied.
