And he said it to
himself again, now that he was face to face with the little ones, and
though every nerve in his body thrilled at the touch of the soft hand on
his, he tried to smile, and said:
"No, I am not asleep; I am only tired. What is your name, my little
man?"
"Wobin; tree years old. And this is Baby Bessie, and this is Bessie
mamma," was the prompt reply; and Neil rejoined:
"Yes, I knew your mamma when she was a little girl no bigger than you,
and her hands felt just as yours feel."
"I p'ays for you every night when mamma puts me to bed. I say, 'God
bless Uncle Neil,'" the child continued.
Then two great tears gathered in the sick man's eyes, but he brushed
them away quickly, while Bessie took the boy in her lap and kept him
from talking any more.
By this time they were in the road which led from the highway to the
house. This had formerly been little more than a lane, but under
Bessie's supervision it had been transformed into a broad avenue,
bordered with trees and footpaths on either side, and seats beneath the
trees, which, though young, had grown rapidly, and already cast cool
shadows upon the grass.
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