s, it's Cupid. And Cupid means love.
Love! God bless all good people. It's a fine day. Yes, it is a fine day.
I'm very fond of this window, Carrie; I think it's such a cheerful view.
Look at those lovely clouds. What a way you can see--right beyond the
'Angel' to the country. Those aunts are coming again. Tut, tut. What do
_they_ want to come here for? They sha'n't have her, they sha'n't have
my Jenny. Jenny!" cried Mrs. Raeburn, recognizing at last her best-loved
daughter. "I meant you to be so sweet and handsome, my Jenny! Oh, be
good, my pretty one, my dainty one. I wish you'd see about that knob,
Charlie. You _never_ remember to get a new one."

Then, though her eyes were rapturous and gay again, her mind wandered
further afield in broken sentences.

"I think you'd better kiss her good-bye," the nurse said.

Softly each daughter kissed that mother who would always remain the
truest, dearest figure in their lives.

Downstairs in the stuffy little parlor, Dr. Weever interviewed them.

"Whoever allowed you two girls to come here?" he asked sharply. "You've
no business to visit such a place. You're too young."

"Will our mother get better?" Jenny asked.

"Your poor mother is dying and you should be glad, because she suffers
great pain all the time." His voice was harsh, but, nevertheless, full
of tenderness.

"Will she die soon?" Jenny whispered. May was sobbing to herself.

"Very soon."

"Then I'd better tell my father to come at once?"

"Certainly, if he wants to see his wife alive."

Jenny did not go to the Orient that night, and when her father came in,
she told him how near it was to the end.

"What, dying?" said Charlie, staggered by a thought which had never
entered his mind. "Dying? Go on, don't make a game of serious things
like death."

"She is dying. And the doctor said if you wanted to see her alive, you
must go at once."

"I'll go to-night," said Charlie, feeling helplessly for his best hat.

Just then came a double-knock at the door.

"That means she's dead already," said Jenny in a dull monotone.

Chapter XXXII: _Pageantry of Death_

Mr. Raeburn determined that, if there had sometimes been a flaw in his
behavior towards his wife when alive, there should be no doubt about his
treatment of her in death. Her funeral should be famous for its
brass-adorned oaken coffin, splendidly new in the gigantic hearse. There
should be long-tailed sable horses with nodding plumes, and a line