during the next day, and warming her in her own bosom all through
the long, cold night.






CHAPTER VIII.

THE FAYVER.





"AND is she here, mother?" asked Teddy, rushing into his mother's
room next morning as soon as there was light enough to see.

"Yis, b'y, she's here; but it's not long she'll be, savin' the mercy
o' God. It's the heavy sickness that's on her the morn."

"And will she die, mother?"

"The good Lord knows, not the likes of me, Teddy darlint."

"And you'll keep her, and do for her, mother, won't you?" asked the
boy anxiously.

"Sure and it wouldn't be Judy Ginniss that'd turn out a dying child,