Page:The Father Confessor, Stories of Danger and Death.djvu/307

Rh "He is so thoughtful, poor little child! Sit by me, my love."

The boy sat himself by his father's side, and commenced whittling a bit of stick. "I am making a whistle," he volunteered; "but it won't blow."

"If it does," I said to myself, "out you go."

"I am doing a curious thing," the old man muttered; "but it must be done. If you will look after the interests of my children, my housekeeper, whom you have seen, will keep the home together." He hesitated. "My wife——" he looked distressed.

"I know," I hastened to tell him. "I understand all about it; you could not agree, so you separated. It was best for the children. But now that you are so ill, could you not forget? A mother would be best to look after her children, after all."

His face contracted in a terrible sorrow.

"It is impossible," he said; then looked fiercely at me. "We did not agree." He spoke in a strong voice. "Remember, incompatibility of temper; make no mistake, incompatibility of temper." With a hoarse cry he put his