in the other room, to prevent her feeling
lonely, or for the chance of bringing back her
thoughts to real things: and then she had to
soothe little Ned, lying on a bed of shavings
in the corner, sore and fretful, and needing
the help that she could not stir to give. His
feeble cry would have upset any spirits but
Mary's; but her spirits were never known to
be upset, though few women have gone
through such ghastly scenes, or sustained
such tension of anxiety.

"I cannot come to you at this moment, Ned,"
said she, " but I will soon,—very soon. Do
you know why your brother is not crying?
He is going to sleep,—for a long quiet sleep.
Perhaps he will go to sleep more comfortably
if you can stop crying. Do you think you can
stop crying, Ned?"

The wailing was at once a little less miserable,
and by degrees it came to a stop as Mary
spoke.

' Do you know, your little brother will be
quite well, when he wakes from that long
sleep. It will be far away from here,—where
daddy is."

"Let me go, too."

"I think you will go, Ned. If you do, you
will not live here any more. You will live
where daddy is gone."

"Will Dan Cobb tease me then? Dan does
tease us so! '

Mary had to learn who Dan Cobb was,—
a little boy next door, who was not in the fever
as yet. He was always wanting Ned's top.
Would he want Ned's top in that place where
they were all going to be well?

"No," said Mary; " and you will not want
it, either. When we go to that place, we have
no trouble of carrying anything with us. We
shall find whatever we want there."

"What shall I play at?"

"I don't know till we go and see; but I am
sure it will be with something better than your
top. But, Ned, are you angry with Dan? Do
you wish that he should have the fever? And
are you glad or sorry that he has no top?"

By this time the crying had stopped; and
Ned, no longer filling his ears with his own
wailing, wondered and asked what that odd
sound was,—he did not like it.

"It will soon be over," said Mary, very
gently. " It is your brother just going to
sleep. Now, lie and think what you would
say to Dan, if you were going a long way off,
and what you would like to be done with your
top, when you do not want it yourself. You
shall tell me what you wish when I come to
you presently."

Whether Ned was capable of thinking she
could not judge, but he lay quite silent for the
remaining minutes of his little brother's life;
—a great comfort to Mary, who could not have
replied, because the mere vibration of her own
voice would now have been enough to stop
entirely the breathings which came at longer
and longer intervals. Her frame ached, and
her arms seemed to have lost power,—so long
was it since she had changed her posture.
At such a moment it was that the great comet
came up from behind the brow. The
apparition was so wonderful, and so wholly
unexpected, that Mary's heart beat; but it was
from no fear, but rather a kind of exhilaration.
Slowly it ascended, proving that it was no
meteor, as she had at the first moment
conjectured. When the bright tail disclosed itself,
she understood the spectacle, and rejoiced in
it, she scarcely knew why.

When at last the breathing on her shoulder
ceased, she let down the little corpse upon her
knee, and could just see, by the faint light
from the rush candle in the outer room, that
the eyes were half closed, and the face
expressive of no pain. She closed the eyes, and,
after a moment's silence, said:

"Now, Ned, I am coming to you, in a
minute."

"Is he asleep?"

"Yes. He is in the quiet long sleep I told
you of."

Ned feebly tried to make room for his
brother on the poor bed of shavings; and he
wondered when Mary said that she was
making a bed in the other corner which
would do very well. She was only spreading
mammy's cloak on the ground, and laying
her own shawl over the sleeper; but she said
that would do very well.

Mary was surprised to find Ned's mind so
clear as that he had really been thinking
about Dan and the top. She truly supposed
that it was the clearing before death. He
said:

"You told me daddy was dead. Am I going
to be dead?"

"Yes, I think so. Would not you like it?
—to go to sleep, and then be quite well?"

"But, shan't I see Dan, then?"

"Not for a long time, I dare say: and
whenever you do, I don't think you and he
will quarrel again. I can give Dan any
message, you know."

"Tell him he may have my top. And
tell him I hope he won't have the fever.
I 'm sure I don't like it at all. I wish you
would take me up, and let me be on your
knee."

Mary could not refuse it, though it was
soon to be going over again the scene just
closed. Poor Ned was only too light, as to
weight; but he was so wasted and sore that
it was not easy to find a position for him.
For a few minutes he was interested by the
comet, which he was easily led to regard as a
beautiful sight, and then he begged to be laid
down again.

The sun was just up when Mary heard the
tap at the door below, which came every
morning at sunrise. She put her head out of
the window, and said softly that she was
coming,—would be down in two minutes.
She laid poor Ned beside his brother, and
covered him with the same shawl; drew off
the old sheets and coverlid from the bed of