him away: “Here! Listen to me. I will tell you now. Your mother is ill; she must undergo a little operation; I will explain it all to you: come with me.”
“No,” replied the lad resisting; “I want to stay here. Explain it to me here.”
The engineer heaped words on words, as he drew him away; the boy began to grow terrified and to tremble.
Suddenly an acute cry, like that of one wounded to the death, rang through the whole house.
The boy responded with another desperate shriek, “My mother is dead!”
The doctor appeared on the threshold and said, “Your mother is saved.”
The boy gazed at him for a moment, and then flung himself at his feet, sobbing, “I thank you, doctor!”
But the doctor raised him with a gesture, saying: “Rise! It is you, you heroic child, who have saved your mother!”
SUMMER
Wednesday, 24th.
Marco, the Genoese, is the last little hero but one whose acquaintance we shall make this year; only one remains for the month of June. There are but two more monthly examinations, twenty-six days of lessons, six Thursdays, and five Sundays.
The air of the end of the year is already felt. The trees of the garden, leafy and in blossom, cast a fine shade on the gymnastic apparatus. The scholars are already dressed in summer clothes. And it is beauti-
