"I might have been as bad as this in the fight, but for your pulling me out of it, Frog," said King, in his faint voice. And he did not call him Frog in any contempt, but as though it were his name: he knew him by no other. "Was that bump done in the battle?" Mark had his cap off: on one side of his forehead, under the hair, we saw a big lump the size of an egg. "Yes," he answered, "it was got in the fight. Father thinks it never means to go down. It's pretty stiff and sore yet." King sighed. He was gazing up at the lump with his nice blue eyes. "I don't think there'll be any fighting in heaven," said King. "And I wrote out 'Lord Bateman' the other day, and they shall give it you to keep. I didn't finish telling it to you. He owned half Northumberland; and he married her after all. She had set him free from the prison, you know, Frog." "Yes," replied Frog, quite bewildered, and looking as though he could not make top or tail of the story. "I hope you'll get well, sir. How came you to fall?" "I don't think they expect me to get well: they wouldn't have so many doctors if they did. I shan't be lame, Frog, up there." "Did you slip?--or did anybody push you?" went on Frog, lowering his voice. "Hush!" said King, glancing at the door. "If papa heard you say that, he might go into a passion." "But--was it a slip--or were you pushed over?" persisted Frog. "My leg is always slipping: it has never been of much good to me," answered King. "When you come up there, and see me with a beautiful strong body and straight limbs, you won't know me again at first. Good-bye, till then, Frog; good-bye. It was very kind of you to carry me out of the fight, and God saw you." "Good-bye, sir," said Frog, with another burst, as he put out his hand to meet poor King's white one. "Perhaps you'll get over it yet." Tod and I took leave of them in the afternoon, and went up to the Star. The Squire wanted to be home early. The carriage was waiting before the gateway, the ostler holding the heads of Bob and Blister, when Captain Sanker came up in dreadful excitement. "He's gone," he exclaimed. "My poor King's gone. He died as the clock was striking four." And we had supposed King to be going on well! The Squire ordered the horses to be put up again, and we went down to the house. The boys and girls were all crying. King lay stretched on the bed, his face very peaceful and looking less white than I had sometimes seen it look in life. On the cheeks there lingered a faint colour; his forehead felt warm; you could hardly believe he was dead. "He has gone to the heaven he talked of," said Mrs. Sanker, through her tears. "He has been talking about it at intervals all day--and now he is there; and has his harp amongst the angels." And that was the result of our Day of Pleasure! The force of those solemn words has rarely been brought home to hearts as it was to ours then: "In the midst of life we are in death." XI. THE FINAL ENDING TO IT.