much in my illness.

They were disposed to discuss Uncle George's death from every point of view. Fred particularly wanted to know whether uncle had made a will, and if I knew who would have his horses and cattle and the dogs, of which my young brother was particularly fond. He leaned his whole weight on the footboard of my bed, and swung to and fro as he asked those questions, thus inflicting the utmost torture on my shattered nerves. I was summoning what little firmness I yet retained in order to insist on their leaving me at once, when, to my relief, father appeared and sent them away.

It was like father that in the bustle of departure, he found leisure to come and sit beside me for a few minutes and express his tender sympathy.

"I am very sorry for you, Nan," he said, "but you must not fret. It is a comfort to me to know that the doctor says you have no organic disease. It is just a question of taking it easy for a while, and, at your age, you can spare the time."

"Oh, can I?" was my reply. "I don't think so, father."

"Perhaps not," he said, with a melancholy smile, "but when you are my age you will know what a blessed thing it is to be young. All things are possible to the young in the present age, it seems to me. Think of your poor Aunt Patty now. What a sorrow to lose the one who has shared her life for thirty years!"

"I am very sorry for her, father. Will you give her my love and tell her so?"

He nodded gravely.

"She has been a good wife to George Lucas, and he was good to her, though a bit grumpy at times," he said. "Poor fellow! I believe he suffered more than we knew. And he had a good deal to worry him. I don't know what your aunt will do. I am afraid she will be poorly off, for farming has been so bad of late, and your uncle, owing to his ill-health and growing infirmities, has let his affairs get into a sad muddle. I should not wonder if she has to leave 'Gay Bowers.'"

"Oh, I hope not, father," I said. "Could she not stay on there and take 'paying guests,' as Mary Dakin's mother does?"

"'Paying guests,'" repeated my father impatiently. "What an absurd expression that is! If a man pays for his board and lodging, how can he be a guest? When will people learn to use words with some respect for their meaning? The word boarder is good enough for me. I like to call a spade 

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