soul.

Is it not a trial, then, to hear this boy--this rock of Lockwin's
better nature--in the grapple with Death himself?

If Davy were the flesh and blood of Lockwin, perhaps Lockwin might
determine that the child should follow its own wishes as to the taking
of ipecac. But this question of murder--this general feeling of
Chicago that its babes are slaughtered willfully--takes hold of the man
powerfully as he gathers his own scattered forces of life.

"Esther, will you not go to the rear chamber and sleep?"

The child appeals to her that her presence aids him.

"May I sit down here, Davy?"

There is a nod.

"Will you take some medicine now, Davy?"

"No, ma'am!" comes the gasping voice.

The man sprays with the stramonium. The doctor returns.

"Your boy is very ill with the asthma, Mr. Lockwin. He ought to be
relieved. But I think he will pull through. Do not allow your nerves
to be over-strained by the asthmatic respiration. It gives you more
pain than it gives to Davy."