‘So tired, mother!  Put your hand under my cheek.  Good-night.’

The eyelids closed, and the limbs relaxed in healthy sleep.  The mother sat down, and though her arm became stiff and weary, not a muscle of it moved.

The doctor came in just before he woke.

‘He has spoken; he knew me,’ she said; and the doctor nodded and smiled.  And then a minute after the boy raised his head.

‘Where am I, mother?’ he asked feebly.

‘In bed, darling.  You’ve been ill.’

‘Where’s my button?’

‘He’ll do,’ said the doctor contentedly; ’keep him quiet, and feed him up.’

And the glad news went round the village that Teddy was getting better.

It was a bright day for the farm when Teddy was brought down in a blanket and put in the big easy-chair by the fire.  His little face and hands looked very fragile, with the blue veins standing out clearly under the transparent white skin, but his large eyes shone with light and gladness.  His mother made him comfortable, then left him in his grandmother’s charge for a short time.  Old Mrs. Platt had had her share of suffering during those sad days; her heart was wrapped up in the boy, and perhaps the greatest trial of all was to stand aloof, and perform her daily work downstairs, whilst her daughter-in-law had the sole charge of him.

She came across to the chair now, and kneeling down in front of it, said, with tears in her eyes, as she took his two little hands into hers, ‘Granny has sadly missed her pickle all this while.’

And then Teddy put his little arms round her neck and hugged her close, crushing her cap in the most reckless fashion as he did so.

‘I’m getting better every day, granny, and I love you ever so!’

When Mrs. Platt released herself, he went on more soberly, ’I feel very tipsy on my legs.  I asked mother to let me walk just now, but I couldn’t manage very well.  I don’t think I shall be able to run fast for a year, shall I?’

‘Oh, we’ll see you about long before that, please God!’

‘And, granny, you know about my sorrow?’

The blue eyes looked wistful at the thought.

‘Yes, laddie; but don’t think of that now.’

’I told mother I didn’t want ever to get well when I first talked about it.  I felt I couldn’t live without my button, but she told me that was wrong; she said it wasn’t being a good soldier to wish to die directly trouble came, and that if I bore my sorrow well God would be pleased.  Do you think I’m bearing it well, granny?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Mrs. Platt said soothingly.  ’Look at those lovely flowers and grapes that Mrs. Graham sent to you this morning.  Wasn’t that kind of her?’

‘I don’t never forget it,’ pursued Teddy, refusing to have the subject changed; ’but I thought this morning that God could give it to me again, and so I’m going to ask Him every day till it comes; and do you know, granny, I think He’ll give it to me, only mother says I must be patient.’