hree
days she lay in the dim borderland of death, during which the doctor,
when he visited her, became more and more grave. A time came when he
could do no more; he told Mavis that the accompanist would soon be
beyond further need of mortal aid.

The news seemed to strike a chill to Mavis' heart. Owing to their
frequent meetings, Miss Nippett had become endeared to her: she could
hardly speak for emotion.

"How long will it be?" she asked.

"She'll probably drag through the night. But if I were you, I should go
home in the morning."

"And leave her to die alone?"

"You have your own trouble to face. Hasn't she any friends?"

"None that I know of."

"No one she'd care to see?"

"There's one man, her old employer. But he's always so busy."

"Where does he live?"

Mavis told him.

"I'll find time to see him and ask him to come."

"It's very kind of you."

But the kindly doctor did not seem to hear what she said; he was sadly
regarding Miss Nippett, who, just now, was dozing uneasily on her
pillows. Then, without saying a word, he left the room.

Thus it came about that Mavis kept the long, sad night vigil beside the
woman whom death was to claim so soon. As Miss Nippett's numbered
moments remorselessly passed, the girl's heart went out to the pitiful,
shrivelled figure in the bed. It seemed that an unfair contest was
being fought between the might and majesty of death on the one hand,
and an insignificant, work-worn woman on the other, in which the ailing
body had not the ghost of a chance. Mavis found herself reflecting on
the futility of life, if all it led to were such a pitifully unequal
struggle as that going on before her eyes. Then she remembered how she
had been taught that this world was but a preparation for the joyous
life in the next; also, that directly Miss Nippett ceased to breathe it
would mean that she was entering upon her existence in realms of bliss.
Somehow, Mavis could not help smiling at the mental picture of her
friend which had suddenly occurred to her. In this, she had imagined
Miss Nippett with a crown on her head and a harp in her hand, singing
celestial melodies at the top of her voice. The next moment, she
reproached herself for this untimely thought; her heart ached at the
extremity of the little old woman huddled up in the bed. Mavis had
always lived her life among more or less healthy people, who were
ceaselessly struggling in order to live; consequently, she had always