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 heart would break. "What is the mat- ter, Harry?" she asked. But Harry only threw himself down on the floor and laid his head in his mother's lap, and cried more bitterly. "Are you sick, my son ?" asked his mother. "No, mamma." "What is the trouble, then?" But Harry made no answer except by tears and groans. When the time came for them to go to bed, Harry went up with the rest, a wretched, unhappy little boy. His broth- ers were soon asleep, but Harry tossed about on his pillow, and could not sleep or rest. The lump in his throat seemed as if it would choke him, and a great