is hardly possible
that any should occur so soon. At any rate he is no worse."

So Mr. Barnett and I sat down by the bed, and Dr. Johnson went away for
some supper; I am sure he must have been nearly starving.

"He's been muttering a good deal," said the doctor before leaving, "but
that is of no very great moment. The important thing is to watch him to
prevent his getting out of bed, if he should become excitable. We must
have no undue strain on his weakened heart."

So the little parson and I sat quietly by the patient, who appeared to be
sleeping, and for a long time there was no sound at all, and I think we
dreaded to move lest the slightest noise might rouse him.

But after a time, so suddenly that it startled me, came the hoarse, low
voice that was so painful to hear, and I bent further forward to listen.
At first the words were disconnected, with queer interruptions, so that
they possessed no meaning, but presently I was listening, breathlessly.
He appeared to be giving orders.

"You, Sammy, cast away the lines! Look lively there! Time, time, time!"
he muttered. Then he seemed to be waiting for something and began again.

"I told you to be ready! The years, do you hear me? You are wasting the
years. She's good for sixty miles an hour and it will take forty million
years to reach the nearest star, where Helen waits. Can't make it, you
say? Don't I see her beckoning!"

Then he turned his head, slightly, as if he were addressing some one very
near.

"One has to have patience," he said. "They don't understand, and their
fingers are all thumbs, and the hawser is fouling my propeller, and
Helen calls, and--and I can do nothing."

His head, that had been slightly uplifted, fell back again, and two great
drops gathered in the dark, sunken eyes and slowly ran down the hollowed
cheeks.

Mr. Barnett turned to me. In his eyes there was a strange look of
apprehension, as when one awaits yet fears an answer. But there was
nothing that I could say to him. My heart was beating as though ready to
burst. I cared nothing then for the little man who stared at me, and sank
on my knees beside my poor unconscious John, lifting his limp hand to my
lips.

CHAPTER XXI

_From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_

_Aunt Jennie_, _darling_:

Isn't the world just the most wonderful place? No one knows it at all
until after it has played battledore and shuttlecock with them, and they
have been tossed to and fro