"Never mind, ma," he said, his breath coming short; "we ain't got no
money to buy the medicine, even if the doctor did come. You go git
some supper, now; an', ma, don't worry; I'm goin' to take keer of
you all! Only--only," he added, wearily, "I guess I can't sleep in
the wagon to-night."

Slowly the hours passed until midnight. Mrs. Wiggs had pulled Jim's
cot close to the stove, and applied vigorous measures to relieve
him. Her efforts were unceasing, and one after another the homely
country remedies were faithfully administered. At twelve o'clock he
grew restless.

"Seems like I'm hot, then agin I'm cold," he said, speaking with
difficulty. "Could you find a little somethin' more to put over me,
ma?"

Mrs. Wiggs got up and went toward the bed. The three little girls
lay huddled under one old quilt, their faces pale and sunken. She
turned away abruptly, and looked toward the corner where Billy slept
on a pallet. The blankets on his bed were insufficient even for him.
She put her hands over her face, and for a moment dry sobs convulsed
her. The hardest grief is often that which leaves no trace. When she
went back to the stove she had a smile ready for the sick boy.

"Here's the very thing," she said; "it's my dress skirt. I don't
need it a mite, settin' up here so clost to the fire. See how nice
it tucks in all 'round!"

For a while he lay silent, then he said: "Ma, are you 'wake?"