“The room was ill-lighted when the candle was in it, but there could be seen two beds; one raised on some sort of a bedstead, the other on the floor in a corner. No fire was in this room, and the bed was covered with all sorts of coverings; a torn quilt, an old great-coat, a small ragged worsted shawl, and Norman’s own poor little jacket and trowsers. But on these, close within reach of the boy’s hand, lay curled the little dog; his glossy white hair and soft outlines making a strange contrast with the rags and poverty and ugliness of the place.
“Norman did not look much changed, except that his face was so very pale it seemed as if he had no more blood to leave it. Mrs. Meadow and Silky came near, and neither of them at first was forward to speak. Mrs. Finch stood holding the light. Then Mrs. Meadow stooped down by the bed’s head.
“‘Little Norman,’ she said, and you could tell her heart was full of tears,—‘do you know me?’
“‘I know you,’ he said, in a weak voice, and with a little bit of smile.
“‘Very well,’ he said, in the same manner.
“‘You know—to that good place. Jesus will take me, won’t he?’
“‘What makes you think you’re going, dear?’ said Mrs. Meadow.
“‘I can’t stay,’—said Norman, shutting his eyes. He opened them again immediately. ‘I’m going,’ he said. ‘I’m so tired. I sha’n’t be tired there, shall I?’
“‘No dear,’ said Mrs. Meadow, whose power of speech was like to fail her. She kept wiping her face with her pocket-handkerchief. Norman stroked and stroked his little dog’s silky head.
“‘Poor Long-Ears!’ said he, faintly,—‘poor Long-Ears!—I can’t take care of you now. Poor Long-Ears! you’re hungry. He hadn’t had anything to eat since—since—mother?’
“‘He don’t know how time goes,’ said Mrs. Finch, who had not before spoken. ‘The dog hasn’t had a sup of anything since day before yesterday. He has a right to be hungry. I don’t know what he lives on. My husband don’t care whether anything lives or not.’
“Silky had not said a word, and she didn’t now, but she brought out that same little tin pail from under her cloak, and set it down on the floor. Norman’s eye brightened. But the dog could not be coaxed to quit the bed; he would set only his two fore-feet on the floor, and so drank the milk out of the pail. Norman watched him, almost with a smile. And when the dog, having left the milk, curled himself down again in his old place, and looked into his master’s face, Norman quite smiled.