"
As he spoke he took Max in his arms, and, Ralph preceding them to open the
doors, carried him into an unoccupied bedroom, laid him on a couch, and
covered him up carefully to guard against his taking cold.
"No need to ring for Sam; fire's laid all ready to kindle," remarked
Ralph, glancing at the open grate.
He struck a match, and in another minute the flames were leaping up right
merrily.
Meantime a report that Max was sick had reached the parlor, and Mr.
Dinsmore, his daughter, and granddaughter came up to express their
sympathy and see for themselves how serious the illness was. Their faces
were full of anxiety and concern till they learned the cause of the
sickness, when they evidently felt much relieved.
"Dear boy, I'm sorry you are suffering," Violet said, leaning over him,
"but I hope you will never try it again."
"Papa smokes," he said, "so I thought it was all right for me."
"No," said Mr. Dinsmore; "a grown person may sometimes do safely what is
dangerous for a younger one. You have my sympathy this time, Max, but if
ever you make yourself sick in the same way again, I don't think I shall
pity you at all.
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