e was very pale, and had a sad,
sad look on her face, and just sank wearily down in an easy-chair, on the
opposite side of the fireplace to her little boy, who was wide awake now.

"Oh, mother, is it true what Anna says about Mildred, that she is so very
ill?" asked Arthur breathlessly. He had come nearer to his mother, and,
leaning his chin on her knee, he looked eagerly up in her face.

"Yes, Arthur;" and the hand that was pressed on his forehead to stroke
back his brown hair was hot and trembling.

"_Very_ ill?" asked Arthur again. "Why, she was a right just after dinner.
She will get better, won't she, mamma?"

"Mildred is very, very ill, dear Arthur," his mother said gently. "I came
to tell you myself, darling, because I knew you would be wanting to know.
She has been attacked with croup very violently indeed, and the doctor
does not give me any hope that she will live. I cannot stay with you, my
darling boy."

She did not say any more, and before Arthur had scarcely understood what
he had heard, his mother was gone. There was only one thought in his mind
now. Mildred dying! his darling baby sister, who a little while ago had
laughed, and crowed, and kicked her pretty feet as he played with her. How
could it all have happened? And how soon a dark cloud had fallen over
everything that had seemed so bright! And then a little picture of her
fresh baby face came before him, and he could see the little rosy mouth,
and bright blue eyes, and the soft cheek that he had so often kissed.
Would her sweet face _never_ laugh again? And would he never hear her
clear, soft voice calling "Artie, Artie"? Arthur did not know he had loved
his baby sister so deeply until now that the dark, sad news had come that
perhaps she was going to be taken away from them all for ever. So he sat
in the pleasant firelight on the hearth-rug; but there was no brightness
on his face now. A very grave cloud had fallen on it, as the words were in
his heart that his mother had told him. And then, as he thought about what
they really meant, his lip quivered, and the tears fell on the floor, till
at length his head bowed down on the armchair where his mother had been
sitting, and Arthur sobbed bitterly all alone. It was a very hopeless,
heart-sick feeling, as he wept with the vehemence of his strong, loving
nature; and he had never felt in this way before; for all his life
hitherto he had known what it was to be loved and to love, and had never
had ca