r the last
six months. Many of his neighbours and fellow-workmen had noticed for
some time that "John Heedman had a bad look," and would shake their
heads and look significantly at each other as he passed by, with his
slow gait, his stooping shoulders, and loud, hollow cough, now almost
constant, and more painful than ever. Often when Charlie awoke in the
night he would hear his father pacing the room, unable to rest, or even
lie down. The first time he heard him, he thought "Father must be ill;
he has gone downstairs," and springing out of bed, he crept lightly down
to see what was the matter.

The shutters were thrown open, and the blind pulled up to the top.
Charlie saw it was a calm, still night, and that every part of the sky
visible from the window was spangled with a countless multitude of
brilliant stars. His father stood at the window--he was leaning slightly
forward--with clasped hands, and gazing up with eager, questioning eyes.
Charlie felt that he was praying, and crept softly back. He sat down at
the foot of the stairs to wait, feeling cold and shivering, and with a
strange fear at his heart. He had not sat many minutes when he heard his
father moving; then he called softly at the door, "Are you ill, father?
can I do anything for you?"

"Why, Charlie, how is this?" said his father, taking him by the hand and
bringing him into the room.

"I heard you down here, and I was afraid you were ill. Are you ill?"
asked Charlie, anxiously.

"Not altogether ill, perhaps, Charlie, and yet not well. My cough is
very bad to-night, I can get no rest; when I lie down I feel as if I
should be suffocated. But how cold you are, my boy! run away to bed," he
said, trying to speak more cheerfully, "or we shall be having you laid
up next."

The cheerful tone did not deceive Charlie; he clung to him. "Father, you
are worse than you say--tell me all; do not treat me like a little
child; I am nearly fourteen years old."

His father stood for a moment undecided, then he sat down and drew
Charlie to him and told him all; how he had felt lately that his cough
was getting worse and worse, and his whole frame weaker; that he was
afraid some disease of the lungs had taken a firm hold, and that he
intended to take a rest the next week and see a doctor if he did not
feel any better. "You must not think I am going to die at once," he
said, feeling Charlie tremble; "even if I have disease of the lungs I
may live a long while yet, if