CHAPTER VII.

THE SICK BOY.

IN half an hour the boy had come out of the fit, and was lying in an unquiet sleep. Scarcely a sound was heard about the house so lately full of life.

The children sat in the parlor, not daring to raise their voices above a whisper.

Upstairs there was an eager consultation, and then grandma consented to return with her son for a long visit.

They were to start early the next morning; and there was much to be done, besides affording all the aid that was possible to the afflicted parents.

Poor Aunt Mary was so much distracted by the patient suffering of dear little Ida, who, she insisted on declaring, had "behaved like an angel," that her labor of packing grandma's trunks lasted till midnight.

As the old lady was only a boarder in her own house, there was nothing to be done, after her clothes were ready, but to turn the key in the lock of her door. This her daughter did, after removing to the chamber all her mother's treasures lying about the rooms.

The next morning, fortunately, was cloudy; though, as Ida's eyes were shaded by the wet bandages, and she, seated in her mother's lap, was shielded also by her mother's green veil, they hoped she would not suffer from the ride.

"Only let us once get her to our quiet home," exclaimed Aunt Mary, "and I'll be content. Oh, what a visit this has been!"

All through the night and during the early hurried breakfast, Joseph had slept on.

Mrs. Kent crept softly to the room again and again, and bent over the boy. She did not like the flushed face, nor the loud snore which accompanied every breath, nor the feverish pulse.

"I wish," she said to Mrs. Mason, "that the doctor would come before we leave. I should be so much happier to know he was better."

"I thought sleep was the best thing for him," said Mr. Mason, putting his hand on Joseph's head; "but he's too hot. I'm afraid I did give him a harder blow than I thought; but he's the most aggravating child I ever saw."

"I know, brother," said Mrs. Kent, softly, "that you will excuse me if I ask, do you think striking a child in anger, is a good way to cure him of his passionate temper?"

The tears, were in her eyes as she glanced at the boy.

"Sister Kent," he began, eagerly, "I never thought so much about the government of children, in all my life, as I did last night. I lay hours pondering the subject. Four hours by the clock I walked the floor; and I resolved then and there to begin first with the government of myself."

"Thank God!" she murmured, pressing his hands. "Now I can prophesy a happy future for you."

Still Joseph lay tossing restlessly in an unrefreshing slumber, and knew not when his cousin Berty crept in and softly kissed his hand in token of good-by; nor when Ida, carefully wrapped up, was brought down and placed in the carriage; nor when the horses, after dancing up and down, turned their faces willingly toward home. No, he slept through it all; and, when the doctor came soon after, he pronounced his sickness to be brain fever.