"Papa," said Ada entering, with a face which was almost despairing, "poor little Tom is crying so upstairs. He does not like to ask to come to his usual place in mamma's room; but Mary says he fretted all last night." "I will see about it," said Dr. Arundel as he went out. "I can't talk," said Ada, without looking at Nellie, "so you will not mind. I feel as if I had no head and no heart." She sat down stonily at the table and cut some bread and butter, pushing the loaf towards her sister, saying in a low voice, "Eat." Then they were both silent. What could they say? The blow was too fresh and too heavy to allow of words. Arthur came in, and began his tea, like them, in silence. After they had eaten as much as they could force themselves to swallow, Ada proposed that they should go upstairs again. When they noiselessly re-entered the sick-room, they found their mamma in bed, and beside her, with a white, patient little face, was Tom, resting his head on her pillow. Dr. Arundel had found him prepared for bed in the nursery, and had asked him if he could trust himself to be calm, if taken to his mother? "For a great deal depends on calmness, Tom. She has been asking for you, and I should like you to be with her, if you can promise." "I think I can, papa," he had said; "and you don't know how bad it is to be right away from her." "Yes, dear, I do know," he answered. So little Tom was carried down, and his mother had placed her hand on her pillow, and said faintly: "May he, papa?" And Dr. Arundel had not had the heart to refuse. Arthur followed his sisters upstairs, and sat down by his mother's side. "Dear Arthur," she whispered softly, "will you remember a text I have been thinking of for you?" "I will try, mother," he whispered in return. "This is what it is, 'Fear not; I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward.'" "I will not forget, mother," he said, and as he uttered the words, he felt it was good-bye. "Are the little ones in bed, Nellie?" she asked, as Nellie came and stood by her. "Not quite." "And baby?" "Just ready for bed." "I should like to kiss them for good-night, dear." Nellie went up at once, and the little white-robed dressing-gowned flock stole in. Mrs. Arundel kissed Netta first, and softly said, "God bless you, my child!" And she was immediately drawn away by a sign from her father. So they were all kissed till it came to the baby's turn. Dr. Arundel took him from Mary, and lifted him over the bed. "Let me hold him," she said, stretching out her arms. She folded him in a close embrace, and it seemed as if her arms would never unclasp. "God bless my child!" she said at last, as she had done to the others, and let him go. Dr. Arundel went with him to the door; then, unable to bear his grief, carried the child upstairs, and waited till he was calm. When the little ones were gone, and the door had closed on them, their mother turned round in the bed and hid her face.