medicine is taken every half hour.

At three o'clock the emetic acts, giving immediate relief.

"I have heard my mother say," says Esther, "that a child is eased by a
change of flannels. He is better now. I think I will put on a clean
undershirt."

The woman takes the sick child in her lap and sits near the stove. The
difficulties of the night return.

Why should the man's eyes be riveted on that captive's form! Ah! What
a pitiful look is that on golden-head's face! The respiration is once
more impeded. The little ribs start into sight. The little bellows of
the body sucks with all its force. The breath comes at last. There is
no complaint. There is the mute grandeur of Socrates.

"It is in us all!" the man cries.

"What is it in us all, David?" asks the woman.

"Cover him quickly, Esther, my dear," the man gasps, and buries his
face in the pillow. "God of mercy, wipe that picture out of my
memory!" he prays.




CHAPTER VII