elessly ticked off the
accompanist's remaining moments.

Mavis, heartsick and weary, got little sleep. She watched the night
grow paler and paler outside the window, till, presently, the shaded
lamp at the bedside seemed absurdly wan. Birds greeted with their songs
the coming of the day. The sun rose in another such a blue sky as that
on which she and Charlie Perigal had enjoyed their
never-to-be-forgotten visit to Llansallas Bay. Mavis was not a little
jarred by the insensibility of the June day to Miss Nippett's
approaching dissolution. She reflected in what a sad case would be
humanity, if there were no loving Father to welcome the bruised and
weary traveller, arrived at the end of life's pilgrimage, with loving
words or healing sympathy. In her heart of hearts, she envied Miss
Nippett the heavenly solace and divine compassion which would soon be
hers. Then her heart leapt to the glory of the young June day; she
devoutly hoped that she would be spared to witness many, many such days
as she now looked upon.

"Mrs Kenrick!" said a voice from the bed.

"Are you awake?" asked Mavis.

"Do draw that there blind. I can't stand that there sun."

"Does it worry you?"

"Give me the 'lectric, same as they have at the Athenaeum on long
nights."

Mavis did as she was bid: the light of the lamp at once became an
illumination of some importance.

"Now I want me shawl on again; the old one." "Don't you want any
nourishment?" asked Mavis, as she fastened the familiar shawl about
Miss Nippett's shoulders.

"What's the use?"

"To get better, of course."

"No getting better for me. I know: reely I do."

"Nonsense!"

Miss Nippett shook her head as resolutely as her bodily weakness
permitted.

"What's the time?" she asked presently.

Mavis told her.

"Whatever 'appens, I shall go down to posterity as a partner in
'Poulter's'!"

"You've no business to think of such things," faltered Mavis.

"It's no use codding me. I know; reely I do."

"Then, if you don't believe me, wouldn't you like to see a clergyman?"

"There's someone else I'd much sooner see."

"Mr Poulter?"

"You've guessed right this time. Is there--is there any chance of his
coming?" asked Miss Nippett wistfully.

"There's every chance. The doctor was going to tell him how ill you
were."

"But you don't understand; these great, big, famous men ain't like me
and you. They--they forget and--" Tears gathered in the red rims of
Miss Nippett's eyes.