I must pass over the record of the next few days, for they were so
sad--so sad, even now, I cannot think of them without tears. On the
second day after my return, dear father had another attack, and
before many hours were over we knew we were orphans.

Two things stood out most prominently during that terrible week;
dear mother's exceeding patience and Dot's despair. Mother gave us
little trouble. She lay on her couch weeping silently, but no word of
complaint or rebellion crossed her lips; she liked us to sit beside
her and read her soothing passages of Scripture, and she was very
thoughtful and full of pity for us all. Her health was never very
good, and just now her strength had given way utterly. Uncle Geoffrey
would not hear of her exerting herself, and, indeed, she looked so
frail and broken that even Fred got alarmed about her.

Carrie was her principal companion, for Dot took all my attention;
and, indeed, it nearly broke our hearts to see him.

Uncle Geoffrey had carried him from the room when father's last
attack had come on. Jack was left in charge of him, and the rest of
us were gathered in the sick room. I was the first to leave when all
was over, for I thought of Dot and trembled; but as I opened the door
there he was, crouched down in a little heap at the entrance, with
Jack sobbing beside him.

"I took away his crutch, but he crawled all the way on his hands and
knees," whispered Jack; and then Allan came out and stood beside me.

"Poor little fellow!" he muttered; and Dot lifted his miserable
little white face, and held out his arms.