Chapter 12 - Page 2

which he was toiling fell to the ground, and he stood in mute surprise for a moment or two.

"What is your name?" Doctor R--asked.

"Henry Gaston," replied the child.

"Then jump in here, Henry, and I will take you to see your mother."

The boy took two or three quick steps toward the doctor, and then stopped suddenly and looked back at the load which had just fallen from his shoulders.

"Never mind that. Let Mr. Sharp look after it," said Doctor R--.

"But he will--," and Henry hesitated.

"Jump in, quick, my little fellow; and say good-bye in your heart to Mr. Sharp! You shall never go back there again."

The child sprang eagerly forward at this, and clambered into Doctor R--'s sleigh. A word to the horses, and away they were bounding toward Boston. When Doctor R--arrived there, his mind was made up, as it had been, indeed, before he started, not to take Henry home to his mother that day. He saw that it would be too cruel to present the child to her in the condition he was; and, besides, he felt that, after having procured for him the situation, he could not look the mother in the face with her abused child in all the deformity of his condition before them. He, therefore, took Henry to his own home; had him well washed, and dressed in a suit of comfortable clothing. The change produced in him was wonderful. The repulsive-looking object became an interesting boy; though with a pale, thin face, and a subdued, fearful look. He was very anxious to see his mother; but Doctor R--, desirous of making as great a change in the child's appearance and manner as possible, kept him at his house all night, and until the afternoon of the next day. Then he took him to his eagerly expectant mother.

Mrs. Gaston had waited and waited with all the patience and fortitude she could summon, hour after hour, until the afternoon had advanced far toward evening. So anxious and restless had she now become, that she could no longer sit at her work. She had been standing at the window looking out and watching each approaching vehicle for some time, until she felt sick from constantly awakening hope subsiding in disappointment, when she turned away, and, seating herself by the bed, buried her face despondingly in the pillow. She had been sitting thus only a minute or two, when a slight noise at the door caused her to lift her head and turn in that direction. There stood a boy, with his eyes fixed upon her. For an instant she did not know him. Suffering, and privation, and cruel treatment had so changed him, even after all the doctor's efforts to eradicate their sad effects, that the mother did not at first recognize her own child, until his plaintive voice, uttering her name, fell upon her ear. A moment more, and he was in her arms, and held tightly to her bosom. Her feelings we will not attempt to describe, when he related in