"Hallo, Harry," he cried, "home from school?" "Hush, Master Bromley, don't make such a noise!" interposed Mrs Valentine. Without taking any notice of Master Bromley, Harry exclaimed nervously to Mrs Valentine-- "Is mamma worse, Mrs Valentine?" "Yes, dear," the good farmer's wife answered; "you mustn't go in now. She's very bad, indeed. Mr Bromley is with her." So Harry ran into the orchard, and sitting down under a tree, felt very miserable. His mamma was worse--was she really dying now? The terrible examination--he remembered her words about his work, and going to Oxford. What was he to do? Was he to get leave from school, and give up the chance of getting the prize, and stay at home with mamma instead? But wouldn't that vex her, and perhaps make her worse? Besides, what use could he be at home? Ah! but if she were to die when he was away? No, no; he could not go away and leave her. He must stay with her now! The examination was nothing! Such were the thoughts that coursed through Harry's brain; for though only thirteen years old, he was, in point of mind, far beyond his years, not in his school work, but in his ideas and feelings on general subjects of every-day life; and the reason of this was his having had, for so long, his mother as his only companion. Presently Mrs Valentine came out to him. Her eyes were very red, for she had been crying. "You can come in now, Master Harry." "Mrs Valentine, is mamma dying? What can I do? She mustn't die. Can't Mr Bromley do anything for her?" cried Harry. "No, dear boy. Mr Bromley can't do anything for her, poor dear; nor any one else either, for the matter of that. He can only make her easier for the time, like." "But will mamma die before papa comes home?" "She may die very--very soon," sobbed Mrs Valentine. By this time they were at the door, and Mrs Valentine left Harry to run quietly upstairs to his mother's room. He found her in bed, looking fearfully white, saving two red hectic spots glowing in her wasted cheeks. Her hands were dry and hot; and when she began to speak, a fit of coughing made utterance impossible. Harry sat by the bedside, and burst out crying. After a few minutes, Mrs Campbell said in a low voice, but so cheerfully-- "Well, Harry dear, how did the examination go off?" "It's not over, mamma; and, please, don't talk about that. Are you really going to die, mamma? Tell me, is it really true?" "Yes, darling boy, I am really going away from you now, and soon, too--very soon." "What shall I do when you are gone, mamma? How shall I----" and here Harry fairly broke down; he could speak no more. "Don't cry, Harry; it makes me so sad. Don't you know I am going to heaven, and there will be no pain there. I shall not cough any more. You mustn't cry so. Tell me about school; I like to hear it all. I am not going to die to-day, darling boy. We shall have a little longer together. Tell me about the examination."