When he returned, he took his seat in the chimney corner, but remained silent for a long time.

At length he turned to her, and speaking very gently, hoped she would say a prayer that night for a sick child.
'My favourite scholar!' said the poor schoolmaster, smoking a pipe he had forgotten to light, and looking mournfully round upon the walls.
'It is a little hand to have done all that, and waste away with sickness.

It is a very, very little hand!'.