He heard her sweet, low voice as she tried to thank him.

He saw, too, the little, soft, white hands, holding so fast to Willie.

Was he her brother or her son?
She was young to be his mother.

Perhaps she was his sister; but, no, there was no mistaking the mother-love shining out from the brown eyes turned so quickly upon the boy when he moaned, as if in pain, and seemed about to waken.
"He's been sick most all the way," she said.

"There's something the matter with his ear, I think, as he complains of that.