Just do your best. Reward will come
To those who stand the test;
God does not forget. Press on,
Nor doubt, nor fear. Just do your best.
ERNEST LLOYD.
THE STRENGTH OF CLINTON
When Clinton Stevens was eleven years old, he was taken very sick with
pneumonia. During convalescence, he suffered an unexpected relapse, and his
mother and the doctor worked hard to keep him alive.
"It is ten to one if he gets well," said Dr. Bemis, shaking his head. "If
he does, he will never be very strong."
Mrs. Stevens smoothed Clinton's pillow even more tenderly than before. Poor
Clinton! who had always been such a rollicking, rosy-cheeked lad. Surely it
was hard to bear.
The long March days dragged slowly along, and April was well advanced
before Clinton could sit at the window, and watch the grass grow green on
the slope of the lawn. He looked frail and delicate. He had a cough, too, a
troublesome "bark," that he always kept back as long as he could.
The bright sunlight poured steadily in through the window, and Clinton held
up his hand to shield his eyes. "Why, Ma Stevens!" he said, after a moment,
"just look at my hands! They are as thin and white as a girl's, and they
used to be regular paws.
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