ude. Let him go with us. I'm not a naughty boy." He
looked as though he meditated taking up a position on the sofa.

"Go," said his sister.

"How will you punish me, then?"

"I will tell you when I come to the nursery," she said, opening the door
for him.

Not very willingly, but quietly, he went; and in a little while they
heard his merry voice ringing along the hall.

"I am very sorry," said the young lady, coming back; "give me Claude. I
will walk about with him; you are not able."

"No, no," said Mrs Seaton, though the little boy held out his arms to
go to her. "Go; the carriage is waiting. You should have gone long
ago."

"Need we go?" she asked, looking at Christie. "Clement can be kept out
of the way now."

"Yes, yes; go," answered she, hastily. "We have had vexation enough for
one day. And I thought this dear child was so nicely settled for the
day; and now he is getting quite feverish again."

Miss Gertrude turned and went out without reply.

"My boy, my poor boy!" murmured the mother, as she rocked him in her
arms, and her lips were pressed on his feverish brow. "Will he ever
play among the hay again?"

She rocked him till his crying was hushed, and weary with struggling, he
begged to be laid down. Christie arranged the pillows, and his mother
placed him on the sofa. She would fain have lingered near him; but,
weak from recent illness, she was obliged to lie down. In a little
while he asked for water, and to his mother's surprise, was willing to
take it from Christie's hands. He even suffered her to bathe his hands
and feet, and when he grew restless again, let her take him on her lap.
He was quite contented to stay there; and the last object the mother saw
before she sank to sleep was her sick boy nestling peacefully in the
arms of the little stranger maid. And it was the first object she saw
when she waked, some three hours afterwards. Christie had not moved,
except to let her hat and shawl fall on the floor, and little Claude was
slumbering peacefully still. He awoke soon, however, refreshed and
strengthened, and not at all indignant at finding himself in a
stranger's arms, as his mother feared he might be. He suffered her to
wash and dress him, as he had suffered no one but his mother to do for
the last three weary weeks. It was very well that he was inclined to be
friendly, for Mrs Seaton found herself much too ill to do the
accustomed duty herself; and it was with somethi