ng; haven't the least idea. He has the softest brown,
curling hair of his own, with a wig over it. Can't find out his name, or
anything about him. I like him, though, Anna. He's like somebody! used
to know. I brought him here from the hospital, several days ago, but he
hasn't given me much peace since, and the people down below think I'm as
crazy as he; but I cannot help it; I will not turn him out now."

"Of course you wouldn't, father. We'll manage him superbly. I'll chain
him for you."

My father rose up, comforted by my words, and said "it was time for
tea." We went down. I was the Sophie of Aaron's home, at my father's
table.

"Papa," I said, as if introducing the most ordinary topic of
conversation, "what was the occasion of sister Mary's death? She was
only seventeen. How young to die!"

My father sighed, and said,--

"Yes, it was young. She had fever, Anna. One of those long, low fevers
that mislead one. I did not think she would die."

"Was Mary engaged to be married, father?"

Dr. Percival looked up at his daughter Anna with the look that says,
"You're growing old," although she was twenty-three, and never had gone
so far in life as his eldest daughter at seventeen.

"She was, Anna."

"To whom, father?"

"Perhaps you've seen him, Anna. I hear that he is come home. His name is
Axtell,--Abraham Axtell."

I told my father of the first words,--where we had found him, tolling
the bell,--and of his mother's death, and his sister's illness.

"Incomprehensible people!" was my father's sole ejaculation, as he went
to look after the deranged patient.

I occupied myself for an hour in picking up the reins of government that
I had thrown down when I went to Redleaf. Looking into "our room,"
and not finding father there, I went on, up to my own room. A warm,
welcoming fire burned within the grate. I thought, "How good father is
to think for me!" and with the thought there entered in another. It came
in the sudden consciousness that the room was prepared for some one else
than me. I glanced about it, and saw the strange, wild man, with eyes
all aglow, looking at me from out the depths of my wonted place of rest.
No one else was in the room. I turned around to leave, but, dropping my
precious box of margarite, I stooped to pick it up.

"It is a good harbor to sail into. I'm content," said the voice from the
corner, before I could escape.

I met father coming in.

"Why, how is this?" he said to me.

"Yo