But the rotting, falling logs
of the cabin's walls were far apart, the mud which had once made them
snug having dropped out; and the chilly, rising wind blew bitterly
through the miserable hut. The covers on the bed were few and thin,
although Father Orin had spread Toby's blanket over them. The three
little white faces lying in a pathetic row on the ragged pillows, lay so
still that the doctor was not sure they were alive, till the oldest
child, a boy of three, languidly opened his eyes, looked up unseeingly,
and wearily closed them again.
There was a tightening in the doctor's throat when he turned away, and
he was glad to smile at Father Orin's housekeeping. The priest certainly
had left nothing in his power undone, to keep life in the frail little
bodies. On the hearth was such food as he had been able to prepare,
carefully covered to keep it warm. As the young man's gaze thus wandered
sadly about the cabin, his eyes encountered the old man's. The laughter
with which he was fighting emotion died on his lips, and their hands met
in a close clasp.
Pages:
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176