DANISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES
ing or glee, but because the violent coughing takes his breath away and shakes the little body. Mother folds her quivering hands around the glowing forehead. Father is sitting immovable, watching his child.
Healthy and fresh, with rosy cheeks, did he fall asleep the previous evening; hot and feverish did he awake in the morning. The Christmas joy vanished, giving room for the shadows of anxiety which fell upon the home. The physician came and went during the day; now he is expected back.
Suddenly the coughing stops, a gleam of relief spreading upon the child's countenance. He recovers his breath and turns to his mother, whispering:
"Mama! Will I find my place under the angel's wings to-night?" This was his thought and longing for many days and weeks. But mother can only nod; she dares not venture to answer the question.
"Mama, kiss me! Papa, come here!"
His mother bends over him, and his father kisses the little face. There is a happy smile, a faint struggle, and a deep silence at last.
In the room, where stood a Christmas-tree which will not be lighted, sits the young mother, alone. The door is opened, and her husband walks softly in. Bending over her, he looks into her tearless eyes.
"The shooting-star," he says, at length, "spoke the truth. Your boy and mine is now under the angel's wings. We both believe it, you and I."
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