of her occasional sharp words.

Dr. Woodburn continued about the same all the following day, saving that
he slept more. The next day was Sunday, and Beth slept a little in the
afternoon. When she awakened she heard Dr. Mackay going down the hall,
and May came in to take her in her arms and kiss her. She sat down on
the bed beside Beth, with tears in her beautiful eyes.

"Beth, your father has been such a good man. He has done so much! If God
should call him home to his reward, would you--would you refuse to give
him up?"

Beth laid her head on May's shoulder, sobbing.

"Oh, May--is it--death?" she asked, in a hoarse whisper.

"I fear so, dear."

Beth wept long, and May let her grief have its way for a while, then
drew her nearer to her heart.

"If Jesus comes for him, will you say 'no'?"

"His will be done," she answered, when she grew calmer.

The next day lawyer Graham came and stayed with Dr. Woodburn some time,
and Beth knew that all hope was past, but she wore a cheerful smile in
her father's presence during the few days that followed--bright winter
days, with sunshine and deep snow. The jingle of sleigh-bells and the
sound of merry voices passed in the street below as she listened to the
labored breathing at her side. It was the last day of the year that he
raised his hand and smoothed her hair in his old-time way.

"Beth, I am going home. You have been a good daughter--my one great
joy. God bless you, my child." He paused a moment. "You will have to
teach, and I think you had better go back to college soon. You'll not
miss me so much when you're working."

Beth pressed back her tears as she kissed him silently, and he soon fell
asleep. She went to the window and looked out on it all--the clear, cold
night sky with its myriads of stars, the brightly lighted windows and
the snow-covered roofs of the town on the hill-slope, and the Erie, a
frozen line of ice in the distant moonlight. The town seemed unusually
bright with lights, for it was the gay season of the year. And, oh, if
she but dared to give vent to that sob rising in her throat! She turned
to the sleeper again; a little later he opened his eyes with a bright
smile.

"In the everlasting arms," he whispered faintly, then pointed to a
picture of Arthur on the table. Beth brought it to him. He looked at it
tenderly, then gave it back to her. He tried to say something, and she
bent over him to catch the words, but all was silent there; his eyes