hers--my way that would never have been anything but a very small and
easy one at the most; while hers had been a way full of torment and
servitude. All my strength was gone; and the girl seemed to know it; for
she came over to me and patted me on the shoulder in a motherly sort
of way.

"Poor boy!" she said. "Poor boy! To-morrow, come to me and I'll show you
your mother's grave. I'll take you to the doctor that attended her. I
know how you feel."

I had passed a sleepless night before I remembered to feel revolted at
the sympathy of this hussy who had helped to bring my mother to her
death--and I did not go near her. But I inquired my way from one doctor
to another--there were not many in Madison then--until I found one,
named Mix, who had treated my mother in her last illness. She was weak
and run down, he said, and couldn't stand a run of lung fever, which had
carried her off.

"Did she mention me?" I asked.

"At the very last," said Doctor Mix, "she said once or twice, 'He had to
work too hard!' I don't know who she meant. Not Rucker, eh?"

I shook my head--I knew what she meant.

"And," said he, "if you can see your way clear to arrange with old
Rucker to pay my bill--winter is on now, and I could use the money."

I pulled out my pocketbook and paid the bill.