"I am just going, mother," I sobbed, and tore myself away from the door.
My mammy's arms were about me again as I turned, and carried me back to
my room. This time I did not resist, but as she sat down, still holding
me, I laid my head upon her breast and sobbed myself to sleep. When I
awoke, I found that I was in bed with the covers tucked close around me,
and through my window I could see the gray dawn breaking. I lay and
watched the light grow along the horizon and up into the heavens. And
while I lay thus, with heart aching dully, the door of my room opened
softly, and with joy inexpressible I saw that it was my beloved friend
who entered.

"Oh, Mr. Fontaine!" I cried, and stretched out my arms to him. He took me
up as a mother might, and held me close against his heart.

"Do you remember, dear," he said, and his voice was trembling, "what you
told me one day by the river--that you meant to be brave under trial?"

I sobbed assent.

"Well, the trial has come, Tom, and I want you to be brave and strong.
You are not going to disappoint me, are you?"

Oh, it was hard, and I was only a child, but I sat upright on his knee
and tried to dry my tears.

"I will try," I said, but the sobs would come in spite of me.

"That is right," and he was stroking my hair in that old familiar, tender
way. "Your father is very ill, Tom."