His hands, slim, long, and with tapering fingers like a girl's, reached forward eagerly.
"Daddy, come! I've done the bacon all myself, and the potatoes and the coffee, too.

Quick, it's all getting cold!" Slowly, with the aid of the boy's firm hands, the man pulled himself half to a sitting posture.

His cheeks, like the boy's, were red--but not with health.

His eyes were a little wild, but his voice was low and very tender, like a caress.
"David--it's my little son David!" "Of course it's David! Who else should it be ?" laughed the boy.

"Come!" And he tugged at the man's hands.
The man rose then, unsteadily, and by sheer will forced himself to stand upright.