Shut your fist and do it--quick." "My dear!--my boy!--I haven't the heart to do it!" "Ah!" Robert's chest dropped in; but tightening his muscles again, he said, "now do it--do it!" "Oh! a poke at a poor fire puts it out, dear.

And make a murderess of me, you call mother! Oh! as I love the name, I'll obey you, Robert.
But!--there!" "Harder, mother." "There!--goodness forgive me!" "Hard as you can--all's right." "There!--and there!--oh!--mercy!" "Press in at my stomach." She nerved herself to do his bidding, and, following his orders, took his head in her hands, and felt about it.

The anguish of the touch wrung a stifled scream from him, at which she screamed responsive.

He laughed, while twisting with the pain.
"You cruel boy, to laugh at your mother," she said, delighted by the sound of safety in that sweet human laughter.

"Hey! don't ye shake your brain; it ought to lie quiet.