The Little Princess of Tower Hill by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER V.

  BILLY'S ILLNESS.

  All that day Billy anxiously watched the baby; he tore off her wet clothes,and wrapped the blanket and the sheet tightly round her, and then he coaxeda neighbor to expend one of his pennies on milk, which he warmed and gavewith some broken bread to the little hungry creature. He forgot all abouthimself in his anxiety for Sarah Ann, and as the day passed on, and she didnot sneeze any more, but sat quite warm and bright and chirrupy in hisarms, he became more and more light-hearted, and more and more thankful. Inhis thankfulness he would have offered a little prayer to God, had he knownhow, for his mother was just sufficiently not a heathen to say to him, nowand then, "Don't go out without saying your prayers, Billy, be sure you sayyour prayers," and once or twice she had even tried to teach him a clauseout of Our Father. He only remembered the first two words now, and, lookingat the baby, he repeated them solemnly several times. At last it was timeto go to bed, and as Sarah Ann was quite nice and sleepy, Billy hoped theywould have a comfortable night. So they might have had, as far as the babywas concerned, for she nestled off so peacefully, and laid her soft head onBilly's breast.

  But what ailed the poor little boy himself? His head ached, his pulsethrobbed as he lay with the scanty blankets covering him; he shivered soviolently that he almost feared he should wake Sarah Ann. Yes, he, not thebaby, had taken cold. He, not the baby, was going to have brownchitis orthat hinflammation which he dreaded.

  The mischief had been done when he tore off his jacket and ran home,through the pitiless sleet, in his ragged shirt-sleeves. Well, he was gladit was not Sairey Ann, and mother would soon be home now, and find herbaby well, and not starved, and perhaps she would praise him a little bit,and tell him he was a good boy. He had certainly tried to be a good boy.

  All through the night--while his chest ached and ached, and his breathbecame more and more difficult, and the baby slumbered on, with her littledowny head against his breast--he kept wondering, in a confused sort ofway, what his mother would say to him, and if the Our Father, in the onlyprayer he ever knew, was anything like the father who had been cruel, andwho had run away from him and his mother a year ago.

  All his thoughts, however, were very vague, and as the morning broke, andhis suffering grew worse, he was too ill to think at all.