Mother had one of her seizures, one of the now infrequent "sinking spells," as the doctor called them, on an evening when I was alone with her.

Dorinda and Lute had gone, with the horse and buggy, to visit a cousin in Bayport.

They were to stay over night and return before breakfast the next morning.
I was alone in the dining-room when Mother called my name.

There was something in her tone which alarmed me and I hastened to her bedside.
One glance at her face was enough.
"Boy," she said, weakly, "I am afraid I am going to be ill.

I have tried not to alarm you, but I feel faint and I am--you won't be alarmed, will you?
I know it is nothing serious." I told her not to worry and not to talk.