Snow continued to fall and was now, a few feet deep. The boys father came to meet him some distance from the house. Exhausted, the boy collapsed in his father's arms, who carried him the rest of the way home. His mother was waiting anxiously, worry lines on her brow and her swollen eyes, revealed evidence of her tears. Inside the boys father removed all of his wet clothing. The house was not very warm, only a small hearth fire smouldering to keep the freezing air at bay. Father laid the boy in his bed and then lay next to him with as many blankets as they owned to warm him. The boy was shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering.
Mother heated some milk and encouraged the boy to drink. But something was wrong. A cough had begun to develop and the boy had barely enough energy to sip the milk. Feverish, the boy shivered, yet still so cold!
The next few days were no better, except the visitor called again which brought a glimmer of joy to the small cottage. The visitor sat with the boy, a faint smile appearing on the boys face to greet the him. The boy, whose voice was but a whisper spoke to the visitor. "Please tell me more about the Good Shepherd." The visitor leaned in close to hear, smiled and nodded in agreement, but he noticed that the boys cough was very bad. To be continued...