They sat there beside him for an hour before Benjamin Wright spoke
again; then William King came in, and stood looking down at him.
"He'll just sleep away," he told the son.
"I hope he is prepared," said Samuel, and sighed. He turned his back
on the big bed with the small figure sliding down and down towards the
foot-board, and looked out of the window. The boy had not been
prepared!
Suddenly, without opening his eyes, Benjamin Wright began:
"'Animula vagula blandula,
Hospes comesque corporis,
Qua nunc abibis in loca?'
"What do you think, Lavendar?"
"It will return to God, who gave it," said Dr. Lavendar.
There was another silence; until he wakened to say, brightly,
"Simmons, you freckled nigger, you'd better wring their necks, now, I
guess."
"No, suh," came a murmur from the shadow on the floor, "I'm a-goin to
take care of 'em fine. Yes, suh, I'll chop their eggs small; I sho'ly
will."
The dying hand began to wander over the coverlet; his son took it, but
was fretfully repulsed; then Dr. Lavendar made a sign, and Simmons
laid his thin old hand on it, and Benjamin Wright gave a contented
sigh. After a while he opened that one eye again, and looked at Dr.
Lavendar; "Isn't it cus-customary on such occasions, to--admonish?" he
said, peevishly; "you ain't doing your duty by me, Lavendar."
"You don't need admonition, Benjamin. You know what to do.
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