The blue child-eyes widened; the serious little face puckered.

"Why ain't there anything to eat, mamma?"

"Because there isn't, bubby."

The reasoning was conclusive, and the child accepted it without further
parley; but soon another interrogation took form in his active brain.

"It's cold, mamma," he announced. "Aren't you going to build a fire?"

Again the mother coughed, and a flush of red appeared upon her cheeks.

"No," she answered with a sigh.

"Why not, mamma?"

There was not the slightest trace of irritation in the answering voice,
although it was clearly an effort to speak.

"I can't get up this morning, little one."

Mysteries were multiplying, but the small Benjamin was equal to the
occasion. With a spring he was out of bed, and in another moment was
stepping gingerly upon the cold bare floor.

"I'm going to build a fire for you, mamma," he announced.

The homely mongrel whined a welcome to the little lad's appearance, and
with his tail beat a friendly tattoo upon the kennel floor; but the