UNCLE DICK.

RONALD ‘sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes. Was it all
a dream? Was Uncle Dick really better? Had he ever
been ill? Ronald pinched himself to make sure that he
was awake. The house seemed very quiet, and he could
not hear any footsteps. ‘‘ Mother, may I get up?” he
called softly. There was no answering call from the next
room, and he sprang out of bed. Perhaps Uncle Dick
was worse, and it was only a dream that he was so much
better. Ronald crept along the passage to his Uncle’s
room, pushed the door gently open, and peeped in. Some-
body was sitting in the big arm-chair in front of the fire-®
place. It was Uncle Dick! ‘Oh, I’m so glad!” cried
Ronald, running into the room, and throwing his arms
round his Uncle. “I’m so glad; I thought I’d dreamt
it all, and that you were not better. You are better,
aren't you?” Uncle Dick. smiled. “So you've waked
up at last, young man,” he said. ‘Do you know what
time it is? Of course, I’m better.” Ronald looked up
at the clock, and laughed. ‘I was so tired last night,”
he said. “It was kind of Mother to let me sleep!”