glad she had been able to make him
comfortable these last few years.

As for Lester, he was affectionate and considerate.

"Well, how is it to-night?" he would ask the moment he entered the
house, and he would always drop in for a few minutes before dinner to
see how the old man was getting along. "He looks pretty well," he
would tell Jennie. "He's apt to live some time yet. I wouldn't
worry."

Vesta also spent much time with her grandfather, for she had come
to love him dearly. She would bring her books, if it didn't disturb
him too much, and recite some of her lessons, or she would leave his
door open, and play for him on the piano. Lester had bought her a
handsome music-box also, which she would sometimes carry to his room
and play for him. At times he wearied of everything and everybody save
Jennie; he wanted to be alone with her. She would sit beside him quite
still and sew. She could see plainly that the end was only a little
way off.

Gerhardt, true to his nature, took into consideration all the
various arrangements contingent upon his death. He wished to be buried
in the little Lutheran cemetery, which was several miles farther out
on the South Side, and he wanted the beloved minister of his church to
officiate.

"I want everything plain," he said. "Just my black suit and those
Sunday shoes of mine, and that black string tie. I don't want anything
else. I will be all right."

Jennie begged him not to talk of it, but he would. One day at four
o'clock he had a sudden sinking spell, and at five he was dead. Jennie
held his hands, watching his labored breathing; once or twice he
opened his eyes to smile at her. "I don't mind going," he said, in
this final hour. "I've done what I could."

"Don't talk of dying, papa," she pleaded.

"It's the end," he said. "You've been good to me. You're a good
woman."

She heard no other words from his lips.

The finish which time thus put to this troubled life affected
Jennie deeply. Strong in her kindly, emotional relationships, Gerhardt
had appealed to her not only as her father, but as a friend and
counselor. She saw him now in his true perspective, a hard-working,
honest, sincere old German, who had done his best to raise a
troublesome family and lead an honest life. Truly she had been his one
great burden, and she had never really dealt truthfully with him to
the end. She wondered now if where he was he could see that she had
lied. And would he forgive her? He h