"But, Tom," said the mother, taking his hand, and suddenly changing the subject, "why is it that you don't get better faster? Your skin is real hot, and you look feverish. The doctor said you ought to have been out before this." Tom looked down, but did not reply. "Tom," continued she, tenderly, "something is troubling your mind. I have known it for some time. Don't you love your mother well enough to make her your confidant? What is the matter, my son?" Still the lad did not reply; but his heart was deeply moved by this unexpected and loving attack upon the citadel that held his secret secure, as he had supposed. Soon the tears began to stream from his eyes, and he sobbed aloud. Mrs. Jones's eyes closed, and her lips moved as if she were in prayer; upon which Tom, after she had ceased, asked, softly,-- "Mother, are you a Christian?" "That is a serious question, my son," said she. "I sometimes hope that I am one; but it is a great thing to be a true follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. But why do you ask?" "O," replied he, embarrassed, "I don't just know why. I know you're _good_ enough to be a Christian; but you never spoke to us children about it, and--I didn't know what to think." Mrs. Jones seemed pained by the answer, and said,-- "Tom, I know I have been negligent in this matter." Then she added, hesitatingly, "But your father does not feel as I do about it; and I have scarcely felt like instructing the children contrary to his views. I have ever tried to please him in everything; perhaps I have carried this too far." "Mother, were you praying just now?" "Yes," said she, hesitatingly. "And were you praying for me?" "Yes, my son." Tom was silent for a while, and then said,-- "Mother, since I heard the preacher, I have many times wished I were a Christian; that is, if--if--the Bible is true. But there are some things that I don't understand, and they are right in my way." "What are they, Tom?" He colored, and said,-- "I don't like to tell you, for I am afraid you will think me very bad. But I thought some time I would like to ask some one about it who knows more than I do. You believe that there is a God, mother?" "With all my heart." "And that he is pleased with those who do good, and angry with those who do wrong?" "Certainly, Tom." "Well, it seems hard, if this is true, that he should let me get hurt so the other morning, as I was trying to shoot the hens for you, and you needed them so much, when there's Jo Priest, and ever so many more, swearing, ugly fellows, that go a gunning almost all the time, and kill things just for the fun of it, and they get plenty of game, and never get injured;" and the lad spoke bitterly.