f illness which seems to see already more than is visible to living eyes. His mother, sitting at the bottom of the bed, biting her fingers to k
little boy, as happy as a bird. But one night, when he came home from school, his head was giddy and his hands were burning. Ever since he had lain there in his cot. To-night he did not wander in his mind; but for two days his strange listlessness had alarmed
that you would li
answered,
ming. You are his parents, and you know him best. Try to disco
REMEDIED,' TH
ded with white hawthorn blossoms, riding on his father's shoulders. Jacques had already bought him gilded soldiers, figures, "Chinese shadows," to be shown
Boulogne Wood, don't you remember? If you drink your medicine like a good boy, I will buy
ck child, his voi
pistol and bulle
the little voi
mping-jacks. Still, while the parents looked at each ot
" said his mother. "Come, whisper to me-to mamma.
his eager hands towards some unseen object, cried ou