is bed. Dr. Gracie dropped in,
friendly-wise, of an evening--said little that was strictly
professional--but held his hand a second longer, perhaps, than he would
have done for a mere greeting, and looked rather scrutinizingly at him
when Mr. Gartney's eyes were turned another way. Frequently he made some
slight suggestion of a journey, or other summer change.

"You must urge it, if you can, Mrs. Gartney," he said, privately, to the
wife. "I don't quite like his looks. Get him away from business, at
_almost any_ sacrifice," he came to add, at last.

"At _every_ sacrifice?" asked Mrs. Gartney, anxious and perplexed.
"Business is nearly all, you know."

"Life is more--reason is more," answered the doctor, gravely.

And the wife went about her daily task with a secret heaviness at her
heart.

"Father," said Faith, one evening, after she had read to him the paper
while he lay resting upon the sofa, "if you had money enough to live on,
how long would it take you to wind up your business?"

"It's pretty nearly wound up now! But what's the use of asking such a
question?"

"Because," said Faith, timidly, "I've got a little plan in my head, if
you'll only listen to it."

"Well, Faithie, I'll listen. What is it?"

And then Faith spoke it all out, at once.

"That you should give up all your business, father, and let this house,
and go to Cross Corners, and live at the farm."

Mr. Gartney started to his elbow. But a sudden pain that leaped in his
temples sent him back again. For a minute or so, he did not speak at
all. Then he said:

"Do you know what you are talking of, daughter?"

"Yes, father; I've been thinking it over a good while--since the night
we wrote down these things."

And she drew from her pocket the memorandum of stocks and dividends.

"You see you have six hundred and fifty dollars a year from these, and
this house would be six hundred more, and mother says she can manage on
that, in the country, if I will help her."

Mr. Gartney shaded his eyes with his hand. Not wholly, perhaps, to
shield them from the light.

"You're a good girl, Faithie," said he, presently; and there was
assuredly a little tremble in his voice.

"And so, you and your mother have talked it over, together?"

"Yes; often, lately. And she said I had better ask you myself, if I
wished it. She is perfectly willing. She thinks it would be good."

"Faithie," said her father, "you make me feel, more than ever, how much
I _ought