."

Not a word more was said on the subject, and the boys were again
silent--one of those blessed, short silences in which the resolves which
colour a life are so often taken.

Tom was the first to break it. "You've been very ill indeed, haven't
you, Geordie?" said he, with a mixture of awe and curiosity, feeling as
if his friend had been in some strange place or scene, of which he could
form no idea, and full of the memory of his own thoughts during the last
week.

"Yes, very. I'm sure the Doctor thought I was going to die. He gave me
the Sacrament last Sunday, and you can't think what he is when one is
ill. He said such brave, and tender, and gentle things to me, I felt
quite light and strong after it, and never had any more fear. My mother
brought our old medical man, who attended me when I was a poor sickly
child. He said my constitution was quite changed, and that I'm fit for
anything now. If it hadn't, I couldn't have stood three days of this
illness. That's all thanks to you, and the games you've made me fond
of."

"More thanks to old Martin," said Tom; "he's been your real friend."

"Nonsense, Tom; he never could have done for me what you have."

"Well, I don't know; I did little enough. Did they tell you--you won't
mind hearing it now, I know--that poor Thompson died last week? The
other three boys are getting quite round, like you."

"Oh yes, I heard of it."

Then Tom, who was quite full of it, told Arthur of the burial-service
in the chapel, and how it had impressed him, and, he believed, all the
other boys. "And though the Doctor never said a word about it," said he,
"and it was a half-holiday and match-day, there wasn't a game played in
the close all the afternoon, and the boys all went about as if it were
Sunday."

"I'm very glad of it," said Arthur. "But, Tom, I've had such strange
thoughts about death lately. I've never told a soul of them, not even my
mother. Sometimes I think they're wrong, but, do you know, I don't think
in my heart I could be sorry at the death of any of my friends."

Tom was taken quite aback. "What in the world is the young un after
now?" thought he; "I've swallowed a good many of his crotchets, but this
altogether beats me. He can't be quite right in his head." He didn't
want to say a word, and shifted about uneasily in the dark; however,
Arthur seemed to be waiting for an answer, so at last he said, "I don't
think I quite see what you mean, Geordie. One's told so ofte