"Yes, child, it feels like home. God bless you. But your mother--did she help to do this?" Mary's countenance fell. She shrunk away from the glance of those bright, questioning eyes. "Mother has not been home in five or six days," she said, gently. The sick man turned his head and closed his eyes. Directly, Mary saw two great tears press through the quivering lashes, followed by a faint gasping for breath. "I have prayed--I have so hoped to see her before"-- He broke off; and Mary could see, by the glow upon his face, that he was praying then. She knelt down, reverently, and leaned her forehead upon the arm of his chair. After a little, Fuller opened his eyes, and lifting one pale hand from his knee, laid it on his child's shoulder. "Mary!" She looked up and smiled. There was something so loving and holy in his face, that the child could not help smiling, even through her tears. "Mary, listen to me while I can speak, for in a little while I shall be gone." "Not to the hospital again--oh, not there!" "No, Mary, not there; but look up--be strong, my child, you know what death is!" "Oh, yes," whispered the child with a shudder. "Hush, Mary, hush--don't shake so--I must die, very, very soon, I feel," he added, looking at his fingers and dropping them gently back to her shoulder; "I feel now that it is very nigh, this death which makes you tremble so." Mary broke forth into a low, wailing sob. "Hush! stop crying, Mary; look up!" Mary lifted her eyes, filled with touching awe, and choked back the agony of her grief. "Father, I listen." Oh, the holy love with which those eyes looked down into hers! "Have you read the Bible that I left behind for you?" "Yes, father; oh, yes, morning and night." "Then, you know that the good meet again, after death?" "But I--I am not good. Oh, father, father, I cannot make myself good enough to see you again; you will go, and I shall be left behind--I and mother!--I and mother!" "Have you been patient with your mother--respectful to her?" he asked, sadly. "There--there it is. I have tried and tried, but when she strikes me, or brings those people here, or comes home with that horrible bottle under her shawl, I cannot be respectful--I get angry and long to hide away when she comes up stairs." "Hush, my child, hush; these are wicked words!" "I know it, father; it seems to me as if no one ever was so wicked--try ever so much, I cannot be good. I thought when you came"-- "Well, my child." "I thought that you would tell me how, and you talk of--. Don't, father, don't; I want you so much." "It is God who takes me," said Fuller, gently; "He will teach you how to be good." "Oh, but it takes so long; I have asked and asked so often." Again that beautiful smile beamed over the dying man's face. "He will hear you--He has heard you--I felt that you had need of me, and came; see how God has answered your want in this, my child!"